In spite of constant persecution the skunk is without doubt the tamest of
all of our wild animals, and shares with the weasel and mink the honour of
being one of the most abundant of the carnivores, or flesh-eaters, near
our homes. This is a great achievement for the skunk,--to have thus held
its own in the face of ever advancing and destroying civilisation. But the
same characteristics which enable it to hold its ground are also those
which emancipate it from its wild kindred and give it a unique position
among animals. Its first cousins, the minks and weasels, all secrete
pungent odours, which are unpleasant enough at close range, but in the
skunk the great development of these glands has caused a radical change in
its habits of life and even in its physical make-up.
Watch a mink creeping on its sinuous way,--every action and glance full of
fierce wildness, each step telling of insatiable seeking after living,
active prey. The boldest rat flees in frantic terror at the hint of this
animal's presence; but let man show himself, and with a demoniacal grin of
hatred the mink slinks into covert.
Now follow a skunk in its wanderings as it comes out of its hole in early
evening, slowly stretches and yawns, and with hesitating, rolling gait
ambles along, now and then sniffing in the grass and seizing some sluggish
grasshopper or cricket. Fearlessness and confidence are what its gait and
manner spell. The world is its debtor, and all creatures in its path are
left unmolested, only on evidence of good behaviour. Far from need of
concealment, its furry coat is striped with a broad band of white,
signalling in the dusk or the moonlight, "Give me room to pass and go in
peace! Trouble me and beware!"
Degenerate in muscles and vitality, the skunk must forego all strenuous
hunts and trust to craft and sudden springs, or else content himself with
the humble fare of insects, helpless young birds, and poor, easily
confused mice. The flesh of the skunk is said to be sweet and toothsome,
but few creatures there are who dare attempt to add it to their bill of
fare! A great horned owl or a puma in the extremity of starvation, or a
vulture in dire stress of hunger,--probably no others.
Far from wilfully provoking an attack, the skunk is usually content to go
on his way peacefully, and when one of these creatures becomes accustomed
to the sight of an observer, no more interesting and, indeed, safer object
of study can be found.
Depart once from the conventional mode of greeting a skunk,--and instead
of hurling a stone in its direction and fleeing, place, if the opportunity
present itself, bits of meat in its way evening after evening, and you
will soon learn that there is nothing vicious in the heart of the skunk.
The evening that the gentle animal appears leading in her train a file of
tiny infant skunks, you will feel well repaid for the trouble you have
taken. Baby skunks, like their elders, soon learn to know their friends,
and are far from being at hair-trigger poise, as is generally supposed.