The annual increase in skunk activity is now in full swing in part of the rural areas around where I live. It has something to do with the mating season I do believe. Anyway it caused me to remember this adventure from my childhood.

My memory is not what it used to be but this is one I'll never forget....not EVER!


SKUNK TALES
When I was a kid, my aunt, uncle and 2cousins had a
dairy farm in the Waco, Texas area. It was off Hwy 6,
between Valley Mills and Clifton, right dead bang in
the Heart-O-Texas where the summers are notoriously
long, hot, and dry. Every summer I'd go up and spend 2
or 3 weeks with them and get my "country fix". I'm a
city boy and always have been and always will be but I
love being in the country for a while from time to
time. Relaxes and rejuvenates the spirit and charges
up the old batteries, you might say.

I think it was the summer when I was 9 years old, and
up for my annual summer visit when I had my...close
encounter of the stinkiest kind. By now, I can't
remember the month but it must have been late July or
August because it was very hot and very dry. My
cousin, who is 2 years older than me, and I were out
one day varmint hunting. He had a single shot .22 and
I had BB gun. That farm seemed like the whole world to
a 9 year old city kid but it was really only 160 acres
and fenced off into different grazing pastures and
areas for growing this crop and that crop. We were
going from one of the grazing pastures to another and
my cousin had forgotten to tell me that there was a
few volts of electricity in a wire that ran along the
3rd strand from the bottom, in the 4-strand barbed
wire fence, to keep the cows in (nothing much funnier
than seeing a cow put her wet nose on the hot wire).
He went through the fence without touching the hot
wire but I was about halfway through when the back of
my neck came in contact with the hot wire. Made a loud
"pop" and put me face down on the ground. I thought
I'd been shot. Couldn't figure out why my cousin
was laughing so hard.

I was still sulking about that when we both saw it at
the same time...A big, fat skunk running flat out for
an enormous patch of prickly pear cactus. It was nearly
perfectly round and must have been 15' across. The
skunk must have seen us a split second before we saw
him. He could have just hunkered down and we'd never
have known he was there. I sure wish now that he would
have, it would have spared me a lot of grief.

Of course, when we saw that skunk disappear inside
that cactus patch we perceived that as a direct
challenge..."betch'all can't get me outta here!". We
happily took up that challenge and commenced to
planning a strategy for our attack. We wanted to get
him but we wanted to drive him out and bag him out in
the open so we could confirm our victory. We just go
blasting away and we'd never know for sure if we
got him or not.

My cousin found a suitable tree branch and told me to
poke around in the cactus and try to drive him out so
he could get a clear shot. I poked and poked but
nothing moved as far as we could tell. We finally
realized that we were not going to be able to get him
out of there with just the two of us and no other
means of driving him out other than shooting into the
patch. I went first because a direct hit with a BB
wouldn't slow him down any and it might make him make
a run for it. I blasted away and kept it up until my
gun went dry. I reloaded and started blasting again.
My cousin would fire a shot into the patch now and
then, hoping the noise would drive him or a bullet
hitting close by would jump him up. Nothing...no
sign of movement at all.

Now we were getting impatient. Did he make a run for
it and we didn't see him? Did one of the shots from
the .22 finish him off? I picked up the tree branch,
which was pretty long and fairly straight. Made a few
tentative pokes at the edge of the patch. Thought I
noticed a little movement in one spot so I cautiously
approached and made a mighty thrust with the branch
into the spot where I thought I'd seen movement.

Instantly and with out warning, My eyes were watering
to the point that I couldn't see and I was unable to
breath. I took the blast from the skunk directly in
the face from 4' away. My cousin was around kind of on
the other side of the patch and not paying attention
to me he was fooling with the .22 or something and I
heard him holler...SKUUUUUNK, RUN FOR IT!! And he did
too, but it was too late for me. Just way too late.

My cousin's dog, Butchie, a mixed breed that was
predominately some kind of hound or other, had been
playing around us the whole day. Now you see him - now
you don't. When I picked up the branch and started to
plan where to begin poking he came up to where I was
and stood right by my side and took a loose, kind of
informal "point" stance. When the skunk cut loose, I
heard him yelp but no one saw that dog again for the
next 2 days and then he just stayed in close to the
house and milkin' barn for the rest of the time I
was there.

After a few seconds I could breath a little bit but I
still couldn't open my eyes at all. I was staggering
around, hoping not to walk into the cactus patch and
then I felt my cousin's hands pulling me away
from" ground zero".

Now, it turns out that my aunt HATES skunk scent. I
mean she really, really hates it. We knew we couldn't
go home like we were so my cousin said we should go
take a dip in one of the stock tanks. That was a no-no
as well but we decided that, under the circumstances,
it might be the best we could do.
After we got out of the water my eyes and breathing
were ok again but it didn't make a dent in the smell
that was on us. The sun was starting to get low and we
new that we had to go home and face the music.

There was a gravel pathway that connected the house
with the hay barn, feed lot, milkin' barn and turkey
brooder. We were just about to step up on the gravel
path when my aunt, who was out in the yard, beating a
rug, jumped up like she'd been hit with a switch and
yelled, "Right there!! Don't you boys take another
step...You just stay right there. You take them
clothes of, ALL of them. Leave 'em where they lay and
come up to the yard gate and STAY THERE!"

She then filled two wash tubs with water and hollered
to the two naked boys standing, trembling in
fear, and stinking to high heaven, to come on into the
back yard and each get in a tub of water. While we
were doing that she disappeared inside the house and
when she came out her arms were full all kinds of soap
and chemicals and, I swear, she had a clothes
pin on her nose. She set the stuff in here arms down
next to the tubs and carried a broom handle out to
where the clothes lay on the gravel path. With the
broom handle she gingerly carried them to the burn
barrel and we never saw them again.

My aunt is the absolute epitome of the American
country woman. There was a basic prettiness about her
but it was long buried beneath the layers of sun dried
skin and carved by lines resulting from a lifetime of
hard work, worry, and bad luck. Her hands were the
hands of a construction worker, rough and strong.

I remember one
morning a flock of scissor-tails landed in the oak
trees in the back yard at dawn, and woke her up with
their squawking. Next thing, she was in our room,
shaking us awake and putting .410 shotguns and shell
in our hands and telling us to follow her. We spent
the next few minutes out in the back yard blasting
away at the scissor-tails and then, with out a word,
she took our empty guns and went back into the house
and back to bed, leaving us standing out in the yard
in our underwear, up to our kneecaps in dead birds.
The dogs had a good breakfast, though.

Why, I remember seeing her grab a live chicken by the
head, in each hand, give a quick, simultaneous crank
with each arm and in the next instant two headless
chickens would be flopping around on the ground,
squirting blood every where. A little soak in the
scalding tub and then she'd sit on a milking stool,
hoist up her apron and pluck 'em. Gave me a real
appreciation for fried chicken, I'll tell you.

For all her roughness she could be tender when she was
with her kids. Unfortunately, she wasn't in a very
tender mood, sitting on that self-same milking stool
and scrubbing the skin off two stinky little boys with
that clothes pin on her nose. I distinctly remember
the milk, the tomato juice, and the vinegar. Then came
the grit soap (that's what was takin' the skin off)
and then something like lighter fluid or turpentine or
something and that felt really stimulating after the
scrubbing...whew. I remember looking into her eyes to
see if there was anything like kindness, or mercy, or
any sign of forgiveness,
however small. All I saw was two dark, shiney pieces
of flint, glaring at me and I could hear her cursing
softly as she scrubbed. I knew I was in for the
whole ride.

The incident finally blew over and I formed new skin
and the stink was eventually gone. I have smelled
skunk many times since and each time I recall that
experience. I only hope that I never get another
direct hit like that again. Nothing you can do will
help much. It just takes time. I guess if this story
has a lesson to be learned it would be this: If you
see a skunk, let him be...just let him be.

When I was a kid Tippy was barking and making a lot of noise one night.

I went outside to see what was going on, I did find out, was the only time in my life I smelled the same as old Tippy.

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Doesn't hasta call me Johnson

What a story!

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Lounge Lizard Extraordinaire

We've had trouble over the years with skunks, foxes, and raccoons getting into the chickens.

Over the past twenty-five years I've trapped so many skunks I've lost count...but there was definitely enough to make my wife a coat with matching slippers and handbag.

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Pack light and cinch tight.

A couple of years ago, my dog was sprayed by a skunk in our back yard. Of course he came running into the house through the pet door, and oh good grief what a stink! This was about 11pm, and we were up all night bathing and trying everything we could think of or find on the internet...and they did not work.

As soon as our vet's office opened, we called her and she suggested Nature's Miracle, which is available at Petco and Petsmart. They make a full line of products, stuff that can be used on pets themselves, as well as stuff for carpets, upholstery, and laundry. I ran to Petco and bought some of everything...and that stuff works! One application on my dog, and there was just the faintest whiff of skunk perfume remaining. A second treatment, and it was completely gone.

It worked equally well on our carpet, clothing, towels, etc. I recommend it highly!

AS many of you know, I did my Master's research on bears. Specifically, the ecology and food habits of "urban bears"==those living in the mountains and foothills north of Los Angeles that come down into the residential areas.

For two years, I prowled the back roads and jeep trails of gated communities, city parks, National Forests and flood control basins. My study required that I collect data from all times and days (My wife actually spent our 10th Anniversary tracking bears with me). Irate/suspicious homeowners, drug plantations, "home boys" ,and DEA agents were the norm, as were pit bulls and rottweilers. Excepting one "bluff" charge, the scariest thing that happened involved a skunk.

I was up a narrow canyon==maybe 100 yards across. The foothills of SoCal have very, very steep slopes. The slopes are almost cliff-like. The canyon was gated and locked, largely due to construction equipment, since many new homes were being built (We found that our sow actually made her daybed under one foundation). I had seen two of the biggest coyotes ever when I unlocked the gate (maybe they were German shepherds, or dire-wolves escaped from the La Brea Tar Pits?). Oh, it's 2 or 3 AM and slightly foggy (of course!).

I had just taken a radio fix on one of my bears, a young male about 2-3 years old and 200-220 lbs. I changed positions to get a second bearing (you plot 2, preferably 3, bearings and where they intersect, the animal is.) and, DARN (yeah, I actually said "darn"), he had moved down canyon and was behind me. So I had to change position and go back down the canyon. Third time, he's moved again. Well, I figure 100 yards (width of the canyon) was within my margin of error, so I got ahead of him and was going to wait until he was directly across from me, and maybe get a visual on him.

While I am waiting for him to move downhill towards me, I'm filling out a data sheet using my "new office" (the camper shell). Suddenly, something brushes against my leg! You guessed it, there's a large skunk (well, he seemed gigantic!) standing on my boot!. He wanders off, UNDER THE TRUCK, so I can't see where he's at. Nothing to do but wait him out and hope the bear stays on his side of the canyon.

Forty-five minutes later he wanders out from the front of the truck and waddles off into the brush!

Back when we were in college we (around 7-8 of us) were at a friend's house in the country spending a drunken weekend of playing cards, duck hunting, running trot lines and other wholesome pursuits. We had a keg of beer and decided to go "shining". We put the keg in the back of the El Camino and all of us and the dog piled in and off we went. Since the game warden lived not too far away and could hear gunshots, One of our friends had his bow with him and we left the guns at home. Anyway the drill was to drive around shining possums and whatever and then try to catch them. Raccons were left alone but possums provided great sport-we called it possum kicking. Run one down kick the snot out of it without spilling your beer than come back to the El Camino . Meanwhile the dog (about a 90 pound lab) was in the truck whining and lapping up beer from the top of the keg and getting as drunk as the rest of us. Well, finally one of us kicked my(I mean "his") possum and then picked it up by the tail and brought it back to the truck and on a dare pitched it into the back.
That possum came to life and he and that lab got into it and everyone was jumping out of the way. The possum wedged itself under the toolbox and that dog wasn't gonna give up-finally got hold of it and shook it into submission. Dog was MAD when we took it and pirched away.
Which brings is to the skunk. One friend was sitting in the front with his brand new compound bow with the brand new razor sharp broadheads which back then (late 70's) cost close to $12 each!
He spied the next thing moving which was black and white and decided to show off his new toy. Anyway he shot that skunk right up the ....vent. we of course could smell it immediately and were getting ready to leave but he wasn't lleaving a brand new $12 arrow behind. I don't know if he hit the sack and it eexpolded or whether that skunk had one last charge in him, but when he pulled that arrow out you could see the spray in the headlights Worst skunk smell I have ever experienced! He had to ride back on the hood of the El Camino and by the time we got back to the house we were all covered in that stuff! PLus we still had one drunk and mad lab on our hands.
Lessons learned that night:
Don't shoot skunks with broadheads unless you're willing to leave the arrow.
Labrador Retrievers are mean drunks-especially when you take away their possum.

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Forum consigliere

Growing up, I had an old, blind Border Collie. A boy couldn't ask for a better friend, but about once a year she scared up a skunk and got herself sprayed. Fortunately, she was an outside dog. One night she woke everyone up barking on the front porch. The porch was kind of inset into the house, with the front door in one corner and a dog bed in the other. So I open the door to see what all the hubbub is, Mom behind me with the shotgun, and there's old Pokey barking at a skunk that's scratching around on her bed. I got her in the door without upsetting the skunk and she spent the rest of the night in the garage. I miss that danged ole dog.

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Insert short witty words here

Great stories guys.
When we come down out of the mountains to visit family, we're always eager to get back home and away from the craziness of the city. It's always a relief to smell skunk and cow poop on our way home, it means we're almost back to our brick house in the mountains.

One morning about 5:30, I was on my way out to the corrals to feed the horses and mules when I smelled something just awful. I shined my flashlight over toward the dog kennels and there was Patsy, my short-haired Border Collie, with a disemboweled skunk lying in the corner. Apparently, the thing was able to wedge itself through a small opening in the kennel gate. It must've been quite a tussle. As I looked a little closer, the skunk slowly reared its little head. Dang! It was still alive...barely, but still alive. Grabbed my little .22 pistol and finished the thing off, but poor ol' Patsy was impossible to be around for a good week and a half.

Patsy the skunk killer with one of the mules.

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Pack light and cinch tight.

[Lessons learned that night:
Don't shoot skunks with broadheads unless you're willing to leave the arrow.
Labrador Retrievers are mean drunks-especially when you take away their possum.[/QUOTE]

Words to live by. If I had a nickle every time I heard that. Funny Stuff Cajun.

Len

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Endeavor to persevere

Now, we've all heard that "everything's bigger in Texas", and we all know that you Texans are given to imaginative exaggeration in furtherance of this notion, but, c'mon, you can't seriously expect us to swallow this yarn about a 15' diameter cylindrical skunk... I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, and chalk this up to fuzzy recollection, rather than deliberate prevarication. It was nonetheless an amusing anecdote...

I think the 15' is referencing the patch of cactus.