Up close and way to personal
Skunks are nocturnal animals, at least when they don’t get the urge to enjoy a nice stroll on a sunny afternoon. More on the “great confrontation” a little later. First though, an interesting tale straight out of Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom. (For you youngsters out there that’s an obscure reference to a 1960s television series starring a white-haired biologist named Marlin Perkins who did everything from wrestling rhinos to swimming with anacondas.)
Anyway, a few days back while sitting in our den, my bride lifted her head and sniffed delicately. “Do you smell that?” Of course, given that my olfactory sense has gradually deserted me with age, I answered “No.”
“It’s a skunk,” she replied as she leapt from her chair and started closing windows. Sure enough, even I began to notice the gradually, growing odour. Now this isn’t an unusual occurrence. A passing polecat in our neighbourhood will often let loose with a whiff of its toxic spray. Nothing serious but unpleasant just the same. When it happened again the next night and the following day we became concerned.
By the third day we began picking up the scent of our unwelcome friend at all hours. Things would be fine and then a sudden breeze would bring a hint of eau de mouffette and another dash to the windows.
“Do you think maybe another skunk has fallen into Marc’s basement window well?” the love of my life asked that evening. And indeed this had happened once before. There was only one solution, so off I went flashlight in hand.
Arriving at the back of our neighbours’ house I turned the corner and came face to face with the couple who were looking after the place while said neighbours were away on holidays. They, in turn, were staring into the window well with a look of shock on their faces. I peered over the edge and played the flashlight across the hole. There was mom and her family of six.
The sad thing was that three of the babies were dead and mom was naturally a bit frantic. After a quick discussion I retrieved a large plank from my shed and slid it into the hole. To be fair, my co-naturalists had already thought of that but their planks were a little too short and to narrow. We left. By the next day, mom and the surviving kids had made their way out and were gone and after a cleanup things were back to normal, well almost.
The day after that, I was doing what I do best, reclining with a good book safe from the bugs in our gazebo while the gardener was repotting something and the dog supervising. Suddenly I heard my partner in her best She Who Must Be Obeyed voice yell “Brando! No!” From my previous conditioning I too jumped at the command.
Looking down into the yard I saw Brando the Wonder Dog nose to nose with young Jimmy, or Jennie we haven’t ascertained the sex as yet, and my bride frantically pulling the dog away. Thankfully, Brando obeyed the command and Jimmy held off any major spraying, whether because of his youth or the surprise at his first meeting with a large canine who didn’t bark or jump at him. Eventually, with a lot of shooing and the aid of a garden hose the young skunk headed off into the woods and to what we hoped would be a normal forest existence. Not quite.
The following day seemed to be a good one for working in the garden so the hound and I started out through the garage. I threw open the door, Brando bounded out and I shut the door behind me. When I turned there they were, Brando and his new best friend, once again nose to nose. Thankfully the door didn’t lock behind me and we were both able to beat a hasty retreat while the skunk merely stared.
So there it is. At the moment it’s a stand-off. Jimmy is still out there wandering our neighbourhood all day, unfazed by the sunlight and untutored in the survival skills his mom never had the time to impart. As for Casa Belford, all the doors remain unlocked when anyone is in the yard, just in case it’s necessary to beat a hasty retreat.