I was wandering around the village after a recent rain shower, photographing raindrops on flowers and leaves, when I crossed paths with a little denizen of the church steps, a chipmunk. As animals go, chipmunks are bold and gregarious creatures, and can quite easily be convinced to eat out of your hand; we had one at our house late last summer who expected it. 

I spoke gently to this little one, and he allowed me to take a few pictures. The macro lens I had on the camera wasn't optimal for our impromptu session, since it's made for getting very up close and personal with the subject, and chipmunk or no, a wild critter is not going to be persuaded to go along with that sort of proximity. So we went our separate ways, and I returned to the house to change lenses on the camera in order to get some other pictures I'd envisaged on my first go round the village. Almost as an afterthought, I grabbed a small handful of pecans so that I could leave them on the church steps as a little thank you offering.

To my surprise, my friend the chipmunk was still hanging about, and was most pleased with the feast I'd brought, and he stood and posed as he stuffed his face as I talked to him gently and clicked away. 

I follow a photographer who has established an amazing rapport with various kinds of birds (cardinals, chickadees and even red-winged blackbirds, who are notoriously aggressive and unfriendly) as well as squirrels and chipmunks. I admire and envy the kinship he has with these animals in a small suburban wetland. This brief encounter with the chipmunk was a small, delightful taste of the gift of trust from a wild thing.