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November 1, 2013
Skunk Holocaust: Allah Claims Another
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I'm sitting here in my underwear as a light snow begins to fall, despite clear sunny skies. The Fall doesn't care. Unburdened by shame or guilt. The bird bath seldom thaws any more. The birds somehow sense this and stay away. But the other animals, still they come. Skunks. Foxes. Lord knows what else.
I'm gasping for air. Hocking up stuff out of my lungs. Just threw up in my sink. My eyes are watering. I begin to feel empathy for the soldiers in the trenches of WWI, as the Allies and the Germans fought to a draw in the soggy trenches, poisoning each other with deadly Chlorine gas.
Jennifer calls me on my cell phone and asks if I can come pick her up in an hour and I'm like, "Who is this? How did you find me here?"
I don't like waking up and finding a skunk in my trap. I really don't. It's not something that I'm happy about. I just hate that they keep scent-bombing my house underneath my bedroom window, and I can't come up with a better plan to make it stop, because I'm not that clever.
You can go outside any time of the night, and the fox is out there. He's next, make no mistake. He will be "relocated" also.
You can't go through the gamecam pics that he's not in them, beside the trap, on top of it. Or trotting through the yard when I go outside with the spotlight. He's always there. He's not afraid of me, which makes me afraid of him, somewhat, even though he's only 18" tall.
I go outside this time in my "skunk clothes". Clothes I don't like and could burn without remorse, if need be. As I step outside, it starts to snow. The caged skunk is just 10 feet from me. He's calm, but awake. I have a blanket I could throw over the cage, but the cage is so large there's no way it would cover it all. I decide to go with a modified approach - A single kill shot from the .22 rifle at close range, then run, grab the other end of the tow strap, and drag the whole "kit-and-kaboodle" down into the woods and leave this skunk down by the other one.
This seems like a good idea, right. So, I pray that I have the luck of Kokura and I drill him carefully right between the eyes and then dash for the tow strap and start running through the fields, rifle in one hand, tow strap in the other, hell-bent-for-leather towards the woods.
It's starting to snow, and I'm in horrible shape. So, I'm huffing and puffing, trying to run pulling this royally pissed-off skunk in a grizzly-bear-sized cage by a 30' tow strap, but it keeps getting caught on things...hoses...stakes...trees...stuff that a man with any pride wouldn't leave lying about on his property.
Finally get down to about where I left the other skunk yesterday, but he's gone. Now, this begins to concern me because, part of my goal is to thin out the carnivores on the property, but slowly it occurs to me that leaving piles of fresh meat in the snow is probably not the best way to accomplish this goal. I abandon the mortally-wounded skunk, caged and writhing in misery, nuking the world for all he's worth.
I have a new-found empathy for the nerve gas victims of WWI. Maybe I should wear a gas mask. It's not like I don't have them lying around here. For sure, I'll wear one next time.
I turn back uphill, toward the house, and suddenly it hits me that I neglected to check the wind's direction. It's blowing the skunk scent toward the house this time. And, it's starting to snow, so not a great time to throw open the windows like "The Sound of Music" type of situation.
I try to make it back uphill to the house, but I end up collapsing beneath a "Danger: Fire Ban in Effect" sign of questionable origin. Collapse onto the ground, the same as I did back at Tulane when I was running from the bouncers at that bar. They were going to kill me, but somehow I made it to TUPD, starting banging on the door, and screaming for help. Le Blanc and Rinidin came out and saved my ass as I threw up in the street.
All this comes back to me now as I struggle back up to the nuked, ruined house. Inside, I can hardly breathe. It's nearly impossible to assess, independently, how badly you've been hit. The nose does funny things. It adjusts to the scent fairly quickly, so I think it smells fine, but it's hard to know.
I drive down the hill to pick up Jennifer.
"I caught another skunk," I beam.
"I can tell," she chokes.
Back at the house, I check the gamecam, and sure enough, the fox is there. He's in every frame, mocking me. But thankfully, I don't see any other skunks in the gamecam shots. Maybe there were only 2 and I got both of them? At this point, I feel like I'm ready to meet with them on a train car in neutral territory and sign a hasty detente with them. There's no shame in that, is there? It worked for the Korean peninsula, right? I'm all for a bipartisan armistice. A stalemate we can both be proud of.
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Posted by Rob Kiser on November 1, 2013 at 11:48 AM
Comments
I see you did not follow the plan. It probably would have worked even though the blanket did not cover the whole cage. Now you are left with a skunk smell eliminating concoction of h2o2, baking soda and dish washing soap. You can find the exact mixture on the net. It seems to really do a good job of removing the odor in dogs. Good luck.
Posted by: mark on November 5, 2013 at 8:33 AM