How about this one for a change? All you need is a different perspective to challenge the common approach, and… a cute little chipmunk on a tree trunk (along with a good stylist, of course).
On a separate note, however related, I must mention here that while indulging in one of my recent reads I’ve learned (to my horror) that Ernest Hemingway’s second wife, Pauline Pfeiffer, a wealthy Midwesterner who worked for Vogue, had a coat made of hundreds of chipmunk skins. I have to say, I did not see it coming from this otherwise engaging recount of Hemingway’s Paris days. To me, it has murder written all over it! I am still nauseous when I think about it. Though, I am secretly hoping that this was only an example of extremely impaired imagination that somehow translated into a piece of gruesome fiction. Say, it is so.