Sarah Nigbor

I have some new neighbors of whom I’m not particularly fond. No, they don’t have loud parties. They don’t store ugly rusting cars in their yard. They’re of no certain political affiliation, that I can tell. Yet, they like to scare me in the dark and make me apprehensive about getting the mail.

A family of skunks has moved into our culvert. In fact, I think their extended family has taken up residence throughout the neighborhood. I have seen more skunks in the last week than I’ve probably seen my entire life. Unfortunately, a couple of them were squashed on the road, which I did not do. I like to stay in their good graces, if that’s possible.

On our way home from the grocery store one evening, my daughter and I saw two skunks out and about near neighboring homes. The next night I saw a line of them walking in our ditch. They looked like they were playing Follow the Leader. I didn’t make eye contact for fear they’d see me as an enemy.

Last night when my daughter and I stopped by our shop to feed her pet rabbits, we looked warily behind us. The culvert in which I suspect the skunks reside is a mere 25 yards from the shop door. Seeing nothing but smelling that unmistakable skunk aroma in the air, we completed our chores quickly. Carolina bee-lined it to the car while I locked everything up for the night. Suddenly I heard her muffled shriek from inside the car: “They’re coming!” I slammed the garage door shut and hightailed it to the car faster than I’ve moved in years. I thought I heard a hissing noise nearby but I wasn’t sure. I made it to safety unscathed.

However, the next morning when we came out to our car, the inside and outside of it smelled like a skunk had moved in. It was so strong I almost gagged.

“You don’t think they took revenge on us and sprayed the car last night, do you?” Carolina asked.

“For what?” I asked. “We didn’t do anything to them.”

“I bet they think you’ve been murdering their relatives along the road,” Lincoln piped in. “I bet the one squashed by the neighbor’s house is the Skunk Queen’s nephew.”

Before I could answer or even ponder if skunks have nephews, a fine mist of lavender/cherry/vanilla spray engulfed my face. Carolina, ever resourceful, had found two perfumes in the center console and decided to spray them at the same time to combat the stench. An immediate migraine leapt between my eyes as I inhaled skunk/lavender/cherry/vanilla spray. It was 35 degrees out, but we drove to our destination with the windows down.

I’m hoping the skunks calm down and either move out or hibernate. I can just see our curious Bagle Hound sticking his nose in the culvert and receiving a fine welcome.

Here are a few interesting skunk spray facts I found online:  

• Skunks don’t really “want” to spray you since it can take up to a week for their bodies to restore their spray supply. They will stomp, hiss and “puff up” their fur, much like an angry cat to serve as a warning, and only unleash their smelly spray as a last resort.
• Skunks can accurately spray at a distance of up to 15 feet.
• While skunk spray does not lead to permanent damage, it can cause significant eye irritation and even temporary blindness.
• Skunks won’t spray other skunks.
• The skunk spray odor can linger for days or even months, depending on the amount released. (Yay)

“If a miffed skunk goes through its stomping, hissing and puffing routine and still feels threatened, it’s time for it to release its full fury on the intruder. The animal will turn its back toward the victim, form its body into a horseshoe shape, lift its tail and let loose. The rest, as they say, is history!” according to havahart.com

Well, I don’t know why any skunk was miffed at me or my car, but it can take its hissy fits somewhere else.