Skunked! Chapter 1

skunkI saw her first one fall evening a year ago. She waddled through the garden, hugging the fence line, slunk through the gate, across the drive and into my neighbor’s bushes.  Nothing like Disney’s suave Pepe Le Pew, or even the classic, glossy-furred black and double-white striped image familiar to us all.  No, she had a single horizontal stripe across her shoulders and a tiny wisp of white at the tip of her tail. She was bedraggled and dirty and the mass of her black fur seemed a burden to carry. An unlovely, pitiful sight.  I felt kind of sorry for her.  A few days later she made her presence known in the skunk’s inimitable way – in the middle of the night.

I’m a pretty handy and self-sufficient person.  I like to take care of things myself as much as possible. So, on to the internet and “How to Get Rid of a Skunk.”  I knew she was living under my deck, but didn’t know where she got in.  Taking the web’s advice, well after dark I sifted a thin layer of flour across the deck to capture her tracks as she came ‘home.’ It was unlikely to see her again, coming or going. DSC00577It worked!

I saw paw prints and the sweep of her tail captured in the sifted flour. But it was late in the year and the snows were upon us. I didn’t want to trap her in under the deck, and decided to wait until spring to block the opening. Researching the gestation period for baby skunks, I decided that by July she and any offspring would be nocturnally mobile – out at night.  So I waited and  spent a July night blocking that opening and every other one I could find. Pat-on-the-back! No noxious odors the rest of the summer.

Since moving to this lovely, inner-ring suburb of Cleveland and into my charming, 1920’s bungalow on a tree-rich street, I have enjoyed the wildlife that I encounter each day.  A small herd of deer sometimes sleeps among the trees at the back of my yard.  Two injured does have made it through last winter and this. DSCF4726 I see them limping on three legs, but still able to jump fences with the grace of ballerinas.  I have seen and heard owls. Birds of varied song flit from bush to tree, animating the air with chips of color.  The squirrels taunt each other and play manic games of tag, chipmunks scamper and veer like radio-controlled toys and the rabbits munch the dew-washed grass unconcernedly. I’ve seen an opossum and a raccoon and a few mice as well.  Hawks soar above the huge trees each day. The food chain is well supplied.

I am content for all these creatures to share my yard, knowing that I am really the interloper. I accept that the deer will eat my plants and the chipmunks will burrow beneath the stones of my walk and am willing to do what I can to discourage, but not harm them. As I said, I am content to share with all—save one.

There is a saying, “Man plans; God laughs.”  Its early spring now, and she’s back. Last week I got another distinctive wake-up call. Surprisingly, twice that week I saw her returning, about 6:45 AM, when I’m on my second cup of coffee and staring out my kitchen window.

So, with a blessed run of dry, sunny days, I tried the flour trick and it worked again. DSC00576-001She’d found a new way in.  Hoping to discourage her from setting up house again, I piled bricks in front of the new opening she’d dug at the base of the deck. But perhaps you can guess the measure of success.

The “call” came again last night, at midnight.  This morning I saw her trundling up onto the deck and watched her disappear under the steps—where I was certain there was NO WAY she could get in.  When I investigated, I saw she had pulled back the rolled-up chicken wire I had stuck in an open space under the steps.

Social media can be a good thing.  As I checked my email, there was a message from a neighbor on my Next Door  news feed talking about skunks.  The neighbor had called a live trap removal service which caught 16 skunks and a groundhog over two weeks!

Self-sufficiency aside, I’ve decided there are some things better left to the experts.  Stay tuned for chapter two. Meanwhile, here’s a lovely poem on the subject  by the late, Nobel Prize winning Irish Poet Seamus Heaney.  (Apologies for the double-spaced formatting.  I haven’t figured out how to change that for poems in WordPress yet.)

The Skunk  Seamus Heaney (1939-2013)

Up, black, striped and damasked like the chasuble

At a funeral mass, the skunk’s tail

Paraded the skunk. Night after night

I expected her like a visitor.

 

The refrigerator whinnied into silence.

My desk light softened beyond the verandah.

Small oranges loomed in the orange tree.

I began to be tense as a voyeur.

 

After eleven years I was composing

Love-letters again, broaching the word “wife”

Like a stored cask, as if its slender vowel

Had mutated into the night earth and air

 

Of California. The beautiful, useless

Tang of eucalyptus spelt your absence.

The aftermath of a mouthful of wine

Was like inhaling you off a cold pillow.

 

And there she was, the intent and glamorous,

Ordinary, mysterious skunk,

Mythologized, demythologized,

Snuffing the boards five feet beyond me.

 

It all came back to me last night, stirred

By the sootfall of your things at bedtime,

Your head-down, tail-up hunt in a bottom drawer

For the black plunge-line nightdress.

 



Comments

  1. An ‘All Creatures Great and Small’ story. Charmed.
    Difficult…and most likely a fact… any service that one hires will euthanize Mrs.Skunk. Check with your city…most likely hehe is not permitted to be released in the Metroparks no matter what the animal control person may say.

  2. Cindy Einhouse says:

    This makes me think of the time I felt compelled to google “How to stop a cat from peeing on your front porch.” The top answer for that question: “Put cat food on your neighbor’s porch.”

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  1. […] coming and going so I could block the gaps after he – or she – had departed for the evening (see previous post). I thought I was being so […]

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