SPUNKY THE SKUNK

          The sun is shining brightly this morning and although much of the snow around our home has melted, it is still hip deep in spots. As I look out the window down toward the old apple tree, the branches bowed as if in awe of winter, the snow is smooth, crisp and silent, no tracks of any wild animals disturbing its serenity. However, on closer observation a few days ago, I did notice  some animal tracks imprinted in the snow around the edge of the house, At first, I thought it was a neighbour's cat gone feral and was living under the deck, but last night as we crawled into bed upstairs, the pungent scent of a skunk assailed our nostrils. There was no disguising our uninvited guess. And speaking of skunks, a couple of years ago, one managed to dig it's way into the crawl space under the newer portion of the house for the winter. Every now and then, for whatever reason but most likely to keep predators away because who wants to move into a stinky place, the skunk would occasionally spray his winter abode. Occasionally we could hear it in the crawlspace but one night while we were sitting in the kitchen we heard quite a ruckus under the floor and the smell, if we had taken its full blast, would have brought tears to our eyes. We never heard another sound after that and the smell eventually dissipated but judging by the fresh tracks in the snow, my guess would be that a coon or a family of coons decided to take over the skunk's dwelling or were hungry. Perhaps the skunk's aroma adds flavour to its flesh that coons find very appetizing but I can honestly tell you, skunk steak is not on my menu!  

          Late October it seems, just before the first snow arrives, we always seem to get a resident skunk rooting around in the lawn searching for tasty little grubs. I didn't really mind the skunk lurking about but there were a couple of times when I stepped out of the door at night, my eye caught its small shape and a flash of white moving around in the darkness. I was amazed how close the skunk came as I slowly backed away trying to avoid perhaps getting sprayed with its obnoxious perfume. I have to admit, it made me more than a little leery about going outside at night, just in case it was poking about the doorstep and I startled it  - ewee - would I ever stink!

          Years ago, when I worked in television as an art director, the woman who hosted a live kid show, would often have me draw cartoons that she would present while reading a children's story. She wasn't always as well organized or prepared as she should have been and one morning, she came into my office in a real frazzle and asked if I could come up with an idea to fill part of her half hour program. Being young at the time, on the fringe of the hippy era, I quickly wrote a short poem titled Spunky the Skunk and drew some cartoons. As she read the poem and pasted up the pictures, the camera man zooming in on the artwork, I had a hard time stifling my laughter because it wasn't really a children's poem, even though it rhymed and sounded like one. No, the words actually described a skunk and his friends smoking marijuana and getting high in the forest. After her show had aired, my suppressed laughter soon turned into worry; what if some of the viewers caught on to what the poem was really about, phoned the TV station and complained; I'd most likely get fired. Luckily for me, no one ever suspected or if they did, they never made a big stink about it - pardon the pun!

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