First Berry Experience
First Berry Experience
Some of the best moments in the forest happen when you’re lucky enough to watch the youngest wild neighbors experience the world for the very first time
One summer a mother chipmunk made her nest deep inside my wood pile. I discovered it while gathering firewood and decided to leave that section of the pile alone for the season. A few weeks later, the little ones started appearing. At first they barely ventured out. Tiny striped faces would pop up between the logs and quickly disappear again. I began leaving a small stash of snacks and fresh water nearby, hoping to make their first days a little easier. By the third day they were bravely exploring the edges of camp. By the fifth day they acted like they owned the place.
There were two in particular that caught my attention. They were inseparable. One was noticeably bigger and bolder — I called him Big Brother. The other was a tiny runt who stuck to his side like glue. The little guy was scared of everything. He would never go first. He always waited for Big Brother to test things out before following behind.
One afternoon I picked a handful of fresh raspberries and offered them to the crew. Big Brother came right up, grabbed one, and took his time inspecting it. The runt sat back watching with a look of pure horror on his face — eyes wide, body tense, clearly convinced his brother had lost his mind. Then Big Brother took a bite.
Whatever signal he gave must have said “this is the best thing ever,” because the little runt slowly crept closer, stretching his neck to get a better look and a whiff. I managed to capture that exact moment with my camera. That photo — titled First Berry Experience — is still one of my all-time favorites. You can see the perfect mix of fear, curiosity, and hesitation on the little guy’s face. To anyone else it might just be a cute chipmunk picture. To me, it tells the whole story of those early days.
As the weeks went on, this original group attracted two other nearby families. Soon my camp became the neighborhood hotspot. Every day the whole crew would show up, turning the area into their personal jungle gym. They’d chase each other across logs, climb the trees surrounding camp, and snack on whatever I put out. I like to think they felt safe there.
I’ve always enjoyed chipmunks, but that summer was something special. Having such a large, active group around every day was pure entertainment.
Of course, nature is nature. Chipmunks are basically the popcorn of the forest — quick, plentiful, and a favorite snack for hawks, snakes, and other predators. Most of that season’s babies didn’t make it through the summer. It’s always sad to watch, but it’s just how life works out here. They breed twice a year, so by late April and again in late June into July, new batches appear.
To this day I still smile when I hear them barking from tree trunks, hanging upside down like tiny striped chihuahuas, yelling at everything that moves. They may be small, but they’ve got big attitudes. That summer taught me again how special it is to witness wild animals grow up right in front of you. And every time I look at that raspberry photo, I remember the tiny runt and his brave big brother figuring out the world one berry at a time.
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Me and the kids had fun watching