A chipmunk is also a grinny, in case you were wondering.
Bob Frye/Everybody Adventures
If you’re of a certain age, you’ll know what I’m talking about.
Back in the day, before gas stations became convenience stores dependent on everything but gasoline to stay afloat, many neighborhoods had little groceries. They were typically small in size, but offered bread, milk, chips, pop, candy and – most importantly in my pre-teen world – baseball cards.
My grandfather took me to one such place, called Marie’s, for a candy bar, a drink and some cards, I think.
The woman behind the counter put them and whatever else we bought into a small paper bag.
My grandfather motioned to the counter.
“Go ahead,” he said. “Grab your poke.”
My what? I didn’t know we’d even bought a poke.
I learned later a “poke” is another word for a bag or sack. He’d been telling me to grab our stuff and I missed it.
My first hunting experience was similar.
We were looking for squirrels on the farm that adjoined my parent’s property. We’d gone out midday to sit the last few hours.
We’d been sitting a log, my nerves all jumpy with anticipation, when something stirred the leaves on the forest floor. We both looked where the sound came from. Surely, I though, here’s my chance to pull the trigger.
My grandfather leaned in close and whispered.
“It’s just a grinny,” he said.
A what? All I saw was a chipmunk. Was I missing this grinny thing?
Of course, a grinny is another name for a chipmunk, as I found out later. We’d been looking at the same thing and calling it by different names.
My grandfather is long gone, but I think of him and that story each fall when I’m in the woods he taught me to love. Chipmunks, aka grinnies, are special to me for that reason.
And on this occasion – day 10 of my outdoor odyssey – grinnies were providing most of my entertainment.
With just two hours to hunt before dark, I’d see one button buck before the evening was over and pass on shooting it. I’d see another deer, what I believe was a larger doe — one I’d have taken if the opportunity presented itself — right on the field edge at dark as I was walking back to my truck.
But I didn’t fill a tag.
I did, though, get to enjoy a memory with those beloved grinnies one more time.
