I've been living here for six years and frequently walk in parks and forest preserves in and around the city. The other day I saw an eastern chipmunk for the first time in River Forest, and it really caught me by surprise. I've seen them in both Wisconsin and Michigan, and Wikipedia says we live in their habitat, so I feel like I should see them more. Does anyone know why they are less frequently seen than squirrels, rabbits, and even more "rare" urban mammals like muskrats, coyotes, and whitetail? Or am I just really bad at spotting them?
I hope someone can help me with this. Lately, I've noticed sounds coming from my kitchen at night time, like things being knocked over like a plastic cup, or Grocery bags. More specifically, I've heard something moving in the storage area of the oven, but I am too afraid to open it. The other night I was hanging curtains and a black rodent like thing ran out from under the couch into the kitchen. It was definitely not a mouse as it was larger and black. Wasn't a rat. There are no signs of a rat, and honestly I don't think we have them here. However, not long ago I did notice a chipmunk or something similar jump out of the area where the oven vent is, and my shoes were just below it (this is outside ) so I thought it was in my shoes. I found some diggings in my yard near this area and i identified them as ground squirrel holes. Whatever I saw matches the description of a chipmunk but I read that black ones are rare. Is it possible for a rare black chipmunk to be living in my house in Georgia?
I don't want to step on anybody's toes here, but the amount of non-dad jokes here in this subreddit really annoys me. First of all, dad jokes CAN be NSFW, it clearly says so in the sub rules. Secondly, it doesn't automatically make it a dad joke if it's from a conversation between you and your child. Most importantly, the jokes that your CHILDREN tell YOU are not dad jokes. The point of a dad joke is that it's so cheesy only a dad who's trying to be funny would make such a joke. That's it. They are stupid plays on words, lame puns and so on. There has to be a clever pun or wordplay for it to be considered a dad joke.
Again, to all the fellow dads, I apologise if I'm sounding too harsh. But I just needed to get it off my chest.
Previous chapter: https://www.reddit.com/r/HFY/comments/rqzuk3/longhunter_ch1_part_2/
First chapter: https://www.reddit.com/r/HFY/comments/rqyezp/longhunter_ch1_part_1/
CHAPTER 2: SHADOWS
Georgeβs troubled sleep was interrupted by someone kicking his boot. He sat up, rubbing his eyes groggily, looking up to see a man holding a lantern peering through the flap of his tent. He squinted against the light, his vision slowly adjusting.
βItβs your turn on watch,β the man said, setting the lantern down. He was terse, irritable, but George could understand that. He would probably be in a similar state of mind when it came time to wake his replacement.
As the man wandered off to his own tent, George collected his rifle, then shuffled out into the camp. They had kept the fire stoked, its golden glow illuminating the surrounding area just enough to put George more at ease. He loaded his weapon, then picked up the lantern, making his way over to the edge of the clearing. Dawes had explained their duties and where they were to stand earlier that evening, so he knew more or less what he was supposed to be doing. A few other men were stumbling their way through the camp behind him, like a very sleep-deprived changing of the guard.
The perimeter was large enough that he couldnβt see any of his fellow sentries directly, just the faint glow from the lanterns of the men to his left and right. His own lantern wasnβt doing much to penetrate the darkness and fog. George couldnβt see more than fifty feet ahead of him, which didnβt give him much time to get off a shot if some grotesque creature should come wandering into the light. The forest ahead was just as dark and as deathly silent as ever. He could have sworn that birds had been chirping when they had first arrived, but now there was nothing but the unnerving creaking of the branches as they swayed in the breeze. The fog was pervasive, rolling between the tall, stout trunks like a thick smoke.
He set the stock of his rifle on the ground, leaning the barrel against his shoulder as he gazed out into the woods, his eyelids still heavy. For what must have been an hour or two, he stood there, his mind playing tricks on him as it conjured moving shapes in the smoke and shadow.
After a while, something more tangible caught his attention. George was suddenly wide awake, brin
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