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Alvin would come to my front porch every day and sit in my hand while eating his lunch. Once he finished eating a peanut or two, he would stuff his cheek pouches with as many peanuts as possible, then scurry off to his den and put them in his pantry. He would make two or three trips, until I guess he figured he had done enough for one day. He knew winter was coming, though, and he wasn't going to get caught short. Unlike me, Alvin saved for those days when things might not have been as plentiful. I should have paid attention to what he tried to teach me.

No matter how many time he did this, I was always surprised when he would sit quietly in my hand, seemingly unmindful of that big black object that was pointed at him making clicky sounds each time I'd press the shutter.

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