INTRODUCING MR. AND MRS. SKUNK
A skunk expects the other fellow to do the running. Not having much
practice he does not have any high speed and puts much awkward effort
and action into all speeding.
One September day a skunk came into the grove where I was watching,
and stopping by an old log did a little digging. While eating grubs he
was disturbed by a falling pine cone. The cone was light, but had a
few spots of soft pitch upon it. It stuck to his tail. Greatly
disturbed, the skunk thrashed and floundered about until he shook the
cone off.
A busy squirrel was harvesting and paying no attention to where his
cones were falling. Down came another cone. This landed not behind the
skunk but in front. Already troubled, the skunk stuck his tail
straight up and struck an attitude of defense.
The skunk had been attending to his own affairs. But after being
struck by one cone and threatened with others, I suppose he thought
it time to defend himself. He looked all around, and with stiffly
turned neck was trying to see into the tree-tops when another cone
came pattering down on the other side of him. This frightened him and
at best speed he started in a run out of the grove. Just as he was
well into action another squirrel cut off a cone and this bounded and
struck near the skunk. He passed me doing his best, and I am sure at
record speed for a skunk.
The skunk is ever prepared. So ready is he that bears, lions, or
wolves rarely attempt to spring a surprise. I ever tried not to
surprise one, but one day a skunk surprised me.
I was edging carefully along a steep, grassy mountainside that was
slippery with two or three inches of wet snow. But with all my care
both feet suddenly lost traction at once. Out I shot over the slippery
slope. As I went I swerved slightly and grabbed for a small bush. A
second before landing I saw a skunk behind that bush; he at that
instant saw me. The bush came out by the roots and down slid bush,
skunk, and myself.
I expected every second that the skunk would attend strictly to
business. In the sliding and tumbling I rolled completely over him.
But as there was “nothing doing” he must have been too agitated or too
busy to go into action.
At just what age the fighting apparatus of a young skunk functions
there is no safe way of judging. If an enemy or an intruder appear
near a young skunk before his defensive machinery has developed the
youngster strikes an impressive attitude, puts up a black-plumed tail,
and runs an effective bluff.
I came upon a black bear, who had guessed wrong, just a few minutes
after he had charged a pair of young skunks. His tracks showed that he
had paused to look at them and do a little thinking before he charged.
He had advanced, stopped, stood behind a rock pile and debated the
matter. The skunks were young--but just how young? Perhaps he had
tasted delicious young skunk, and possibly he had not yet taken a
skunk seriously. When I came up he was rubbing his face against a log
and had already taken a dive in the brook.
A fox came into the scene where I was watching an entire skunk family.
In his extravagantly rich robe he was handsome as he stood in the
shadow close to a young skunk. Without seeing the mother, he leaped to
seize the youngster. But he swerved in the air as he met the old
skunk’s acid test. Regardless of his thousand-dollar fur, he rolled,
thrashed, and tumbled about in the bushes and in the mud flat by a
brook.
A little girl came running toward a house with her arms full of
something and calling, “See what cunning kittens I found.” She leaped
merrily among the guests on the porch, let go her apron, and out
dropped half-a-dozen young skunks.
How many times can a skunk repeat? How many acid shots can a skunk
throw at an annoyer or an enemy before he is through? was one of my
youthful interests in natural history.
Eight times was, so everyone said, the repeating capacity of skunk
fire.
One morning while out with two other boys and their dogs it fell to my
lot to check up on this.
We came upon a skunk crossing an open field. There was no cover, and
in a short time each of our three cur dogs had experienced twice and
ceased barking. Each of the boys had been routed. All this time I had
dodged and danced about enjoying these exhibitions and skunk
demonstrations.
While in action on the dogs and at the boys he had an extraordinary
field of range. From one stand, apparently by moving his body, he
threw a chemical stream horizontal, then nearly vertical, and then
swept the side lines. Far off a tiny solid stream hit in one spot;
close up it was a cloud of spray.
When the innocent wood pussy paused after eight performances I felt
assured that of course he must be out of eradicator. But he wasn’t.
For years I avoided the skunk, the black and white plume-tailed
aristocrat. This generally was not difficult; he likes privacy and
surrounds himself with an exclusive, discouraging atmosphere.
After a number of chance trial meetings with skunks I found that they
were interesting and dependable. From them one knows just what to
expect. The skunk attends to his own affairs and discourages
familiarity and injustice. He is independent, allows no one to pat him
on the back, and no pup to chase him. He is no respecter of persons
nor of robes.
For years, I think, the skunk families near my cabin considered me a
good neighbour. One mated pair lived near me for three years. These
gave me good glimpses of skunk life. Their clothes were ever clean and
bright; often in front of the den I stood near while they polished
their shining black and white fur. A few times I saw the old ones
carry grasshoppers and mice into the den for the waiting little ones.
A few times I saw the entire family start afield--off for a hunt or
for fun.
The last time I saw this pair before the old spruce blew over and
ruined their den, both mother and father were out playing with the
children. She was shooing and brushing the little skunks with her
tail, and they were trying to grab it. He was on his back in the
grass, feet in the air, with two or three youngsters tossing and
tumbling about on his kicking feet.
Skunks have a home territory--a locality in which they may spend their
lives. The territory over which skunks hunt or ramble for amusement is
about a thousand feet in diameter. Rarely were tracks five hundred
feet from the dens of the several families near me. But twice a skunk
had gone nearly a mile away; both of these were outings, evidently
pleasure trips and not hunts.
Once when a Mr. and Mrs. Skunk wandered up the mountainside seeking
adventure and amusement I trailed them--read their record in the snow.
They climbed more than two thousand feet among the crags and explored
more than a mile into the wilderness. They found and ate a part of the
contents of a mouse nest. They killed other mice and left these
uneaten. This outing was a frolic and not a foraging expedition.
Homeward, Mr. and Mrs. Skunk chose a different route from the one
taken in going up the mountain. They travelled leisurely, going the
longest way, pausing at one place to play and at another to sit and
possibly to doze in the sunshine.
[Illustration:
_Photo. by E. B. Webster_
_A Wild Cat_]
[Illustration:
_Photo. by Frank H. Rose_
_Bear Feet. A bear footprint is humanlike_]
[Illustration:
_Photo. by George F. Diehl_
_A Black Bear_]
[Illustration:
_Photo. by E. R. Warren_
_Antelope_]
At one point they apparently defended themselves. Coyote tracks behind
a log within ten feet of them, their own tracks showing an attitude of
defense, and a wild leap and retreat of the coyote--this was the story
in the snow.
The majority of my lively skunk experiences were the result of my
trying to get more closely acquainted with him. On a number of
occasions, however, I was an innocent bystander while some other
person had the experience. Then through years of outdoor life I have
known skunks to do numerous things of interest in which skunk
character and not skunk scent was the centre of interest.
During a night of flooding rain a mother skunk and five tiny skunkies
came into the kitchen of a family with whom I was temporarily staying.
They probably had been drowned out. Mother skunk was killed and the
little ones thrown out the window to die. But father skunk still
lived. The next evening when I went in search of the young ones, as I
stood looking about, father skunk walked into a bunch of grass and
lifted a little skunk out. Taking mouth hold on the back of its neck
he carried it a few feet, laid it down, and then picked up another
little skunk with it. With the two youngsters hanging from this mouth
hold he carried them off into the woods.
An entire family of skunks out on a frolic came unexpectedly upon me.
They numbered eight. I was sitting on a log against a pine, and
resolved not to move. In front of me the mother stepped upon a thorn,
flinched, and lifted her foot to examine it. All gathered about her.
As they moved this way and that, in the sunshine then in the shadows,
their shiny black and clean white showed as though just scoured and
polished. Surely they were freshly groomed for a party.
Without noticing me they began playing, jumping, and scuffling about.
Then single file they pursued one another round a tree. In a mass they
suddenly started to rush round the pine against which I sat. I saw
them vanish behind the northwest quarter but when they swept round the
southeast I was not there.
In Montana I was sitting on top of a low cliff looking down into a
willow thicket below, when a deer shied from the willows and hurried
on. Then a coyote came out mad and sneezing. A squirrel went down to
investigate but quickly climbed a pine sputtering and threatening. The
unusual ever lured me--appealed to my curiosity--and often this
brought adventure plus information. So down into the willows I
started. From the side of the cliff I reached an out-thrust limb of a
pine, swung out, and let go to drop just as the ascending air filled
with skunk publicity.
It is sometimes difficult to predict correctly what a skunk will do
next. At times my skunk neighbours by my cabin prowled forth at night
and again it was in daytime. Generally they showed no concern with the
movements of birds and animals unless one came close. On other days
they would watch the moves of everything within eye range. Hurrying
down a mountainside I one day struck a large skunk with my heavy shoe
and knocked him senseless. I waited and watched him survive. Seeing me
standing by him he rolled over and played possum.
The young skunks stay with the parents for about one year, I think. In
the few instances where I had glimpses inside of winter hibernating
dens, the entire family was hibernating together. Apparently the young
winter with the parents the first year and scatter the following
spring.
Gladly I headed for a prospector’s cabin in which I was to spend a few
days and nights. I was scarcely seated by his fireplace when he went
outside to “cut some meat” that hung at the rear of the cabin.
The first thing I knew a big skunk stood in the doorway. He looked my
way, then started matter-of-fact for me. To heighten interest and to
introduce suspense nothing equals the presence of a skunk.
With utmost effort I sat tight. It would have taken more effort to try
to turn the skunk or to dodge him. But had I known his next move I
would have moved first. He sprang into my lap.
It was too late to dodge so I sat still. He stood up and with paws
against me began to look me over. I did not care to lift him off, and
he did not “scat.” I stood up so he would slide off. With a forepaw in
my vest pocket he hung on and I did not risk shaking too violently.
Finally, realizing that he must be a pet, I sat down and began to
stroke him. He took this kindly and by the time the prospector
returned I was at ease.
Not finding any fresh eggs in a hen’s nest, a young skunk started
playing with a lone china egg. He was so interested that I came close
without his noticing me. He rolled the egg over, pawed it about,
tapped it with forepaws, and then smelled it. All the time he was
comically serious in expression. Then he held the china egg in
forepaws above his head; lay down on his back and played with it,
using all four feet; rolled it across his stomach and finally stood
up like a little bear and holding the egg against his stomach with
forepaws looked it over with a puzzled expression.
The happy adventures of outdoor life never reduce the excess profits
of life insurance companies. They lengthen life. Enjoying the sense of
smell is one of the enjoyments of the open country; the spice of the
pines and perfumes of wild flowers, the chemical pungency of rain,
sun, and soil, the mellow aromas of autumn, and the irrepressible
odour of the skunk.
The occupants of a city flat had complained for two days of the lack
of heat. The janitor fired strong, but the protests continued. The hot
air system did not work. The main must be blockaded, so the janitor
thrust in the poker and stirred things up. There was a lively
scratching inside. A skunk protested then came scrambling out.
Instantly a skunk protest was registered in every room, and a
protester against skunk air rushed forth from each room.
Indians say that skunk meat is a delicacy. The frequent attempts of
lion and coyote to seize him suggest that he is a prize.
An old joke of the prairie is this skunk definition, “A pole cat is an
animal not safe to kill with a pole.” But the Indians of the
Northwest say that a skunk may be so killed and that a sharp whack of
a pole across his back paralyzes nerve action--result, no smell.
In a conversation with a Crow Indian he assured me of his ability to
successfully kill a skunk with a pole, and also that he was planning
to have a fresh one for dinner. I was to eat with him.
He procured a pole and invited me to go along. I told him of my plan
to go down stream for the night. He would not hear of it. As I made
ready to go his entire family, then a part of the tribe, came to
protest as they were planning tomorrow to show me a bear den and a
number of young beavers. There was no escape.
Skunk stew was served. I felt more solemn than I appeared, but not
wanting to offend the tribe I tried a mouthful of skunk. But there are
some things that cannot be done. I tried to swallow it but go down it
simply would not. The Indians had been watching me and suddenly burst
out in wild laughter and saved me.
I wonder if the clean white forked stripe in the jet black of the
skunk’s back renders him visible in the night. Does this visibility
prevent other animals from colliding with him, and thus prevent the
consequences of such collision? The skunk prowls both day and night,
and it may be that this distinct black and white coat is a
protection--prevents his being mistaken for some other fellow.
A skunk is easily trapped. He is a dull-witted fellow, and has little
strategy or suspicion. So well protected is he against attack, and so
readily can he seize upon the food just secured by another, that
rarely does he become excited or move quickly. He never seems to hurry
or worry.
I do not believe that I ever missed an opportunity to see a skunk
close up. Of course I never aimed to thrust myself upon them. But
repeatedly I was surprised by them and it took days to get over it.
A brush pile was filled with skunks. When I leaped upon it they rushed
forth on every side, stopped, and waited for me to go away. I was in a
hurry, and as they refused to be driven farther off I made way for
liberty.
Skunks are not bad people; they simply refuse to be kicked around or
to have salt placed upon their plumy tails. Sooner or later every
animal in a skunk’s territory turns his back on the skunk and refuses
to have anything to do with him. But the skunk turns first.
The skunk to go into action reverses ends and puts up his tail. Every
animal in the woods wonders as he meets a skunk; wonders, “What luck
now?” Head he wins or tails the skunk wins. When a skunk goes into
reverse--thus runs the world away.
The desert skunks that I saw were mighty hunters. Two were even
willing to pose for a picture by their kills: one had a five-foot
rattlesnake; the other a desert rat. There may be hydrophobia skunks,
but I have not seen them nor their victims wasting their lives on the
desert bare.
Skunk character and habits evidently changed as the skunk evolved his
defensive odour to a state of effectiveness. He now is slow and dull
witted. Formerly he probably was mentally alert and physically
efficient. His relatives the mink, weasel, and otter are of
extraordinary powers. While all these have an obnoxious odour, the
mink especially, the skunk is the only one who has made it a
far-reaching means of defense.
Skunks appear to be of Asiatic origin. They may have come into America
across the Siberia-Alaska land bridge a million or so years ago.
Fossil skunks ages old are found in fossil deposits in the Western
states.
“Hurry,” called a trapper with whom I was camping, as he dashed up,
seized his tent-fly, and disappeared behind a clump of trees. As it
was a perfectly clear evening, this grabbing of a tent-fly and
frantically rushing off suggested the possibility of his running
amuck. But I never ask questions too quickly, and this time there was
no opportunity.
As I rounded the trees there before me were two fighting skunks being
separated by the trapper. Both turned on him for separating them; but
he was into the tent-fly and nearly out of range. Again they were at
grips and were biting, clawing, and rolling about when the trapper
rushed in, caught his shoe beneath them, and with a leg swing threw
them hurtling through the air. They dropped splash into the brook.
They separated and swam out to different sides of the brook.
The following day a skunk came out of the woods below camp and fed
along the brook in the willows, then out across an opening. I watched
him for an hour or longer.
At first I thought him a youngster and started to get close to him.
But while still at safe range I looked at him through my field glasses
and remained at a distance. Yet I am satisfied that he was a
youngster, for he allowed a beetle to pinch his nose, ants were
swarming all over him before he ceased digging in an ant hill, and a
mouse he caught bit his foot.
He dug and ate beetles, ants, grubs from among the grass roots, found
a stale mouse, claimed grubs from alongside a stump, and consumed a
whole cluster of caterpillars. Then he started toddling across the
open. Here he specialized on grasshoppers. Commonly he caught these
with a forepaw. At other times with two forepaws or his teeth.
He did not appear to suspect any danger and did not pause to look
around. No other skunks came near. He lumbered back toward the willows
and here met the trapper. They stopped and stood facing each other at
man’s length. The skunk expected him and everything met to retreat
promptly or side step and appeared to be surprised that this was not
done.
A minute’s waiting and the skunk walked by him at regular speed and
never looked up.