Why the Chipmunk's Back Is Striped

Why the Chipmunk's Back Is Striped

An old story from Montana tells of a time when the world was still young and animals and birds could speak with one another. In those days, Napa, Old Man, travelled through the forests. He was a strange wanderer: sometimes wise, sometimes impatient, and sometimes such an inventor that even the squirrels would peer from behind the pines when they heard his footsteps and whisper, “What will he do this time?” One summer day, Napa was walking north. The sun was sinking toward the treetops, the grass smelled of resin and dry pine needles, and patches of gold leapt across the path. Napa was walking so thoughtfully that he scarcely noticed anyone. “Where are you going?” called a pine squirrel. “Where my feet take me,” Napa replied. “And why?” “When I arrive, I shall find out.” The squirrel gave a little snort and disappeared behind a trunk. Soon Napa heard a faint rustling in the bushes. Rustle, rustle. Then again. Rustle, rustle. “Who is there?” he asked. From beneath the roots of an old pine, a little forest creature peeped out. It was quick, with sharp ears, round eyes, and a fluffy tail. Its fur was plain brownish grey, almost the colour of dry earth. “I am here,” said the little creature. “Only do not step on me. I am small.” Napa crouched down. “Small, but quick. I almost did not see you.” “That is the trouble,” sighed the creature. “Everyone in the forest has something special. The jay has beautiful feathers. The young deer has pale spots. The squirrel has a splendid tail. But I am like a piece of last year’s leaf.” Napa looked at the creature, then at the ground, then up at the sky. Evening light was falling through the pine branches. Long dark shadows lay across the path, and between them shone narrow golden tracks. “You know,” said Napa, “I believe the forest has already invented clothes for you.” “The forest?” “Look at your back.” “I cannot look at my own back!” “Then I will have to help.” Napa untied the small pouch he carried with him. Inside were paints of many colours. He knew how to decorate wood, stones, and objects he wanted to make more beautiful. “Sit very still,” he said. “Will it hurt?” “It may tickle.” The little creature pricked up its ears, but agreed. Napa drew one dark stripe down its back, then another. Between them he left pale paths, like shafts of light between the pine shadows. With a few more strokes of paint, a pattern appeared on the small back that could not be mistaken for anything else. “There,” said Napa. “Finished.” The creature spun in place. “Where? Show me! I want to see!” Napa led it to a quiet puddle near the stream. The water was smooth as a mirror. The little creature bent over and became very still. “Is that me?” “It is.” “And those stripes are really mine?” “From now on, they are.” The creature turned one way, then the other, lifted its tail, and nearly fell into the water with delight. “I am the handsomest creature in the whole forest now!” “Careful,” Napa laughed. “Fine stripes are no reason to grow too proud.” “What are they for, besides being beautiful?” Napa looked at the pines again. “When you run among the roots, the shadows and sunlit stripes will help you blend with the forest floor. They will also remind you of the pines. Pine trees can feed a small traveller like you very well.” “With what?” Napa picked up a cone and drew out a seed. “With nuts. When the leaves begin to turn yellow and the air grows colder, gather seeds and hide them in little stores. In winter, you will thank your summer self.” “And what if I forget where I put them?” “Then a new pine may grow there in spring. The forest will not be offended.” The little creature thought about that. “So I can save food for myself and accidentally help the forest?” “Exactly. Small deeds can be important, too.” The creature stood up very straight. “And what am I called now?” Napa narrowed his eyes, as if the word were flying somewhere nearby and he only had to catch it. “Chipmunk,” he said at last. “A small, quick, striped chipmunk.” “Chipmunk!” repeated the creature. “I like it.” It grabbed its first pine nut, tucked it into its cheek, and suddenly looked very funny. Napa raised his eyebrows. “Where did you put it?” Chipmunk tried to answer, but with a full cheek it came out only, “Mmmph!” Napa laughed so loudly that a woodpecker stopped tapping at its tree, and the squirrel peeped out from its pine again. “What is happening?” asked the squirrel. “Our forest has a new gatherer of nuts,” Napa said. Chipmunk swallowed the nut and added quickly, “And new clothes!” Then it raced down the path. The dark and light stripes on its back flickered among the pine shadows so nimbly that a moment later it was hard to tell where the chipmunk ended and where a sunbeam began on the forest floor. That autumn, Chipmunk really did gather seeds and hide them in sheltered places. Some it found in winter, and some it forgot. In spring, thin green shoots sometimes appeared where the forgotten nuts had lain. When the other animals asked, “Where did you get such stripes?” Chipmunk would answer, “They are the shadows and light of the old pine forest. Napa only helped them settle on my back.” So, according to the old story, the chipmunk came to have its dark stripes. And ever since then, it has known two useful things: a small store can save you on a cold day, and a small good deed can sometimes grow into a great tree.

May this story leave a little light in your heart ✨