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Where We Left Off:

In our last case, we shared the investigation and analysis used to solve an attack that left a survivor.

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***This case file resulted in the victim’s death, but all the images are while it was alive.***

A Cold Day in Hell’s Kitchen:

Oliver was coming out on adventures for less time as the temperatures dropped and the wind increased. Even Gus had no interested in a two-hour shift. He would prefer to have many short patrols if I catered to him like that. I’ll give him two patrols with a break in between to go inside, get a snack, and warm up. The calendar was flipped over to December and noted that the Full Moon, the Cold Moon, was four nights away.

I found Ollie on the couch in a deep state of savasana wrapped up under sheets giving him a dark, womb-like hiding spot. I knew not to disturb him unless it was an emergency.

Gus and I prepared for our adventure: packed birdseeds and peanuts, bag o’ stuff, camera and phone. The sun was bright and the sky was a cartoonish blue. We didn’t have time to savor the moment. Two crows were chasing a large hawk. Gus and I headed towards the trees where we saw the hawk perch for safety. The crows kept going. They weren’t the only large birds around our small patch of sky.

Two turkey vultures were in the taller (dead) trees that overlook Fort Winchester. One of them took off and circled. The other was focused while it rested. Were they there because death was close?

Gus wasn’t interested in the hawk. It wasn’t interested in staying either and left soon after landing. I guess all it needed was an escape from the crows. No idea what that situation was about. It was only important for this case because it led us to the area where we needed to be.

I distributed the critter snacks and watched as the blue jays descended. I heard the chattering of a squirrel who was waiting for the jays to pause. The smaller birds willingly share the Big Rock with grey squirrels. The grey ones are larger and far more polite than the petite red ones.

The jungle mess of dead weeds and wildflowers gave me a sign of depression. My eyes took in all the busted stuff: The barrels; a workout bench from the 1980s; a lawn mower; hoses; the mechanisms from when there was a small above-ground pool. It was unsightly. It made for great critter habitat though. The chipmunks and mice loved having places to keep warm and build nests.

Gus began maneuvering around the stacks of cinder blocks. Those are great spots for the critters to hide from him. Some bigger animals like groundhogs manage to squeeze under the pallets. I was correct to assume Gus spotted a chipmunk. My assumptions about why were dead wrong.

You can see in the video that the chipmunk wasn’t moving with incredible speed as they usually do for evasive maneuvers. Gus easily tracked it and patted it through the dead grass. I thought he was being aggressive and using his claws, but I was wrong. I kept observing his behavior at the same time as I tracked the chipmunk’s whereabouts.

“Come here!” Gus said.

I thought he was talking to his prey. I went over to make sure he didn’t hurt anything. He climbed up, down, and around the stacks of cinder blocks, through the overgrown weeds, around the mower, and continued his tracking.

“Don’t hurt it, Gus.” I untangled his leash and eventually stepped over to a place where I could help. “You found a chipmunk? Can I see?”

“He’s barely moving. Watch.” Gus smacked the hidden lump under the weeds as it moved closer to the cinder blocks on a pallet.

“That wasn’t very nice,” I said. Gus was right though. That chipmunk should have been on the move to find a hiding place near the rocks or simply run across faster than we could in order to climb up to the opposite side of the trail.

I put on my glove and moved the crispy weed stalks out of the way. The chipmunk was right there. It’s never been easier for me to pick one up. I gave it an observational examination and saw what I thought were patches of Gus’ saliva. I noticed blood on my glove. I saw that there was a little spot of blood at the chipmunk’s nose. Not a good sign.

“I barely touched him,” Gus walked away from us pretending he had something else to check at the cinder blocks. Then he kept on walking.

I talked to the chipmunk trying to figure out which one it was. Hugh Jackmunk? James MacAmunk? Moira Munktaggert? It’s easier to tell when they’re near each other and I can watch their natural behavior. This one was giving me a new experience even though I’ve rescued chipmunks from Gus’ jaws many times.

I looked around and spotted Gus at the end of the trail by the fallen black walnut tree. Uh oh. There was a good chance that he would climb across that tree to cross the border into the danger zone. I hated leaving the chipmunk, but I didn’t know what the heck to do if I carried it and went after Gus. Decisions! Gus had to come first.

The chipmunk was still moving when I placed him down on a leaf with some bird seeds. At first, he went under the pallet. Then he came out and was figuring his way. I had to leave.

Gus and I met up without incident. It was a miracle he didn’t make me chase him across anyone else’s property. He headed home. I found a box and went back out.

When I reached the junkyard, I grabbed fistfuls of the dried weeds and created a nest inside the box. I found the chipmunk on the other side of the gravel path. He was trying to make his way back. He had reached the natural wall of rocks, but he couldn’t climb it. I put him inside the box and used a couple of heavy rocks to prop the box opening towards the rocky slope. If he couldn’t make it up, I hoped he could stay warm and rest. I wanted to bring him inside and research if there were any ways to help (illegal since I’m not a licensed rehabilitator).

At night, I walked back to the junkyard, flashlight in hand. I didn’t see the chipmunk at first. I dumped out the weeds and had to search through them. I found his stiff, cold body. My heart broke.

The right thing to do was leave the body out in case a predator needed it for food. The next, I checked and the body was still there. The day after that, he was gone.

 

Victimology

Name: Munk Murdock

Age/Life stage: adult

First Appearance: Case File No. 30-342 in 2023

Known associates: Mice Murdock, Munka Kelly, Chipcent Donofrio aka “Kingpin”

Forensics

There was an injury at the back of the chipmunk’s neck indicating it had been carried in an animal’s jaws. The jaws would be thin in measurement from left to right (bite radius).

The victim’s tail was mostly missing. A chipmunk’s tail is normally 3-5 inches. There was approximately a half an inch remaining of the tail.

We took a closer look at the markings on the chipmunk’s back. There was something about the shape of the large mark on its hind quarters that presented a clue.

These signs pointed to a battle with a fox or a large domestic cat. The victim was able to get away from his attacker, but ultimately succumbed to the injuries inflicted.

Case Summary:

The Winchester-Nabu Detective Agency held a private memorial for the loss of Munk Murdock, one of the junkyard’s fiercest and bravest chipmunks. In his lifetime, there were often difficult moral choices made that could be hard for others to understand from the outside looking in. He was well-respected and loved in the community. His life was lost in battle with an unidentified red fox.

Case Status: Closed