I have had a lot of unpleasant run-ins with skunks over the
years, one of which was while I was out hiking. It caused me to stand outside
by my car for hours afterwards because I didn’t want to get back in and stink it up. Of
course, my only other option was to walk 20 miles back home, so I didn’t
have much choice, unfortunately.
My car became known as the “skunkmobile” after that.
And then, two summers ago, there was an attack skunk on my
property. It would hide in the bushes along the edge of my driveway and then
whenever I’d walk by, usually on my way to check the mail, the skunk would leap
out at me and assume the “spray” stance. It never actually sprayed me (thank God), but still, I’m sure sadistic little “Pepe Le Pew Junior” increased my heart rate to
near-stroke proportions every time he pulled his little scare tactic on me.
The other morning, I went out to feed my birds, as usual,
and saw something horrifying lying directly beneath the feeder – a dead skunk
with its throat torn out! My first
thought was, “Thank goodness my feeder is out near the woods and not in my
yard.” My second thought was, “What
animal is crazy (or desperate) enough to attack a skunk?” Obviously one with
severe sinus problems.
Another thing that struck me as being weird was there was
very little “skunky” odor, which made me suspect the skunk had been the victim
of a sneak attack and hadn’t had the opportunity to let off a deadly blast.
The body already was covered with a thick layer of flies,
many of which flew up at me as I approached. That did it – I ran off, wanting
nothing more to do with the corpse or the flies. The problem was, I knew I
couldn’t just leave it lying there, especially in 90-degree heat. The
usual skunk odor would be the least of my problems in a few hours – the odor of
rotting skunk-meat would. And a bunch of flies all but promised to produce a
bumper crop of maggots. I knew I had to dispose of the murder victim...and soon.
My neighborhood has a private group on Facebook where we
share tips, questions, ask for help or to borrow things, etc. Because I had seen some pretty gory photos
of dead deer posted on there by a couple of my neighbors during hunting season,
I figured a dead skunk would be no big deal to them. So I posted a plea for
someone to help me dispose of the skunk, saying I was just too squeamish to do
it myself. Then I sat there and watched how many people read my post. By the time it reached 20, I was getting
frustrated because not one person had responded, offering assistance.
Finally, I received a private message that said, “Oh, just put on
your big-girl panties and go do it yourself!”
I was so aggravated, I was ready to go scoop up the skunk
just so I could drop it off on her doorstep.
When my plea produced no knight in shining armor riding on
his horse up my driveway to rescue me from the rapidly decaying skunk-corpse, I
figured I had no choice other than to tackle the job myself. So I literally did put
on my big-girl panties – and a raincoat, face mask (Covid-19 at least came in
handy for something), gloves, hat and rubber boots – and grabbed a snow
shovel. Then I hesitantly approached the dead skunk and its rapidly thickening
layer of flies. I took a deep breath, scooped it up and bolted to the edge of
the woods where there is a big drop-off, and flung it down there.
Later that day, a post on my neighborhood group’s site said
a State Trooper with a K-9 unit and a game officer were seen
roaming the neighborhood. It made me
wonder why. Were they searching for the beast that had de-jugularized the
skunk? Perhaps something like Bigfoot
or El Chupacabra?
Just last month, I’d had a conversation about Bigfoot with a
friend. He told me that a few years
back, his wife had seen Bigfoot running past their window.
“My wife said he looked like a really tall, naked old man,”
he explained, his eyes wide.
Considering they live across the road from a large
elderly-care facility, I suspected that maybe it actually was a really
tall, naked old man trying to make his escape from the place, but still, the
story intrigued me.
So, for now, the case of the murdered skunk still remains a
mystery.
But I definitely will keep a keen eye on my property from
now on – especially if it involves seeing a naked man…no matter how old he is.
# # #
Sally Breslin is an award-winning humor columnist and
the author of “There’s a Tick in my Underwear!” “Heed the Predictor” and “The
Common-Sense Approach to Dream Interpretation." Contact her at:
sillysally@att.net.
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