Skunk Alert

Mike, my neighbor from across the street, had a run-in with the stow-aways in the tool shed next to his garage. It's hard to imagine how a family of skunks (Mephitis mephitis) could have possibly moved in right under his nose.

When the skunklings grew past the baby stage, the obvious could not be avoided any longer. Often, they could be seen playfully catching the first rays of the morning sun just as Mike or Molly were heading for the garage. Mike sent them scurrying by stomping his foot on the ground while still at a safe distance, but Molly thought it might be wise to start parking on the street. Christian's (not mine) and Sarah's (next door to Mike) cat Elsie made closer acquaintance. A diminutive but fearless hunter who's frequently seen with squirrels and rabbits in her fangs and calmly stares down any mutt in the neighborhood sustained a direct hit in the face, doubtlessly when she tried to make one of the skunks its lunch. She was sprayed so badly that it warranted an $300+ makeover at the University of Minnesota Veterinary Emergency Clinic.

Molly thought it wise to start parking on the street and Mike decided that removal was in order. He enlisted his brother-in-law, did some research on the internet and got going. They rigged a hose to the exhaust pipe of Molly's minivan and stuffed the other end in some hole that Kevin, another neighbor, had drilled in the floor of the tool shed. Apparently those critters have fine noses because before long, the first made its appearance. Armed with spades, like doughboys for trench warfare they were ready for the enemy. When the first head appeared Chop! off with its head, likewise with the second one. But then things started to fall apart, when the three survivors decided to use the weapon evolution had provided them with. Fortunately, they did not score a direct hit, but the poison-gas cloud enveloped them. Somehow, they had forgotten their gas masks in the bunker.

Animal control took care of the remaining ones, showing how it's done correctly. They trapped the critters, stuffed the traps in a plastic bag and gassed them with exhaust from their truck.

I always worry that my dog will get sprayed. I often run early in the morning through wooded areas of Como Park and, judging by the smell, skunks do live there. Mellie's off leash but I make darn certain that she heels when I notice that aroma. It would be worse if something like this should happen on a back country trip, I certainly would care to share a tent with a fouled dog, like my colleague Sheli had to do when her lab was sprayed in front of their tent during a weekend trip to southern Maine. Sheli's dog had awoken in the middle of the night, gone berserk and wormed its way out where the zippers of the tent door were not quite closed, only to meet a skunk that had no intention to back away. Sheli's husband had to drive 10 miles to an all-night convenience store to get some home remedies such as tomato juice, dish washing soap, etc. Since everything I have seen about deskunking indicates that time is of the essence, it must be that two-times 10 mile trip delay is why Sheli's dog had still a faint skunk odor,  several months later especially when wet.

Elsie survived, as did Mike et al. The skunk adventure was not cheap, counting the the vet bill, the new concrete shop floor Mike felt compelled to pour and the big scrape Mike's new Buick sustained while being parked on the street instead of in the garage. But as the saying goes: time heals all wounds, including smelly ones.