Skunk Sightings

“Skuuuunk! There’s a skunk outside!” The cry came from my bedroom, which overlooks a park-like area of our property containing trees, a dry creek bed, and little walking trail. Surely not, I think. These kids are always Seeing Things. Yet, recalling that we almost didn’t take them seriously when they spotted a neighbor’s chimney fire, I stroll over to the window. Sure enough, a very large skunk is ambling through the park, sniffing at possible burrows. I am absolutely sure he lifts his head and looks directly at us in the window as we all converge and cry out at once, “skuuunk!”

THERE’S A SKUNK IN THE PARK, I text the Husband.

“Get a picture!” he answers. “Get out there!”

Now, I know that he is teasing. He is saying the opposite of what he means, because I know my sweet husband would not want me to get sprayed. However, there is a part of me that does want to get out there and get a picture of this thing. For proof. And to see if perhaps this is a skunk mother with skunk babies living in our woodpile, because if that’s true…well, I don’t know what to do with that. But I need to know. So I go out there.

I start by tiptoeing around the shop, where we had last seen it from the bedroom window. But then I realize: I do not want to surprise this skunk. So I stomp. I hum. I toss a few rocks. Turning the corner, all is quiet and still – no skunk to be seen. I backtrack around the other way, and still nothing. Maybe the skunk was just visiting briefly, and has already moved on?

And now is the time for me to explain an idiosyncrasy of Coco’s. Every Christmas and Birthday, CoCo (who is at heart a naturalist) asks for increasingly weird stuffed animals. He has a badger, a coyote, a large and creepy garden spider. An 8 foot boa constrictor! All stuffed. We have yet to track down his requested anteater and wasp. But what have we found for him? Yep. A stuffed skunk.

So while I am outside, alternating anxiously between stealth and scare tactics with the real skunk, phone camera at the ready, CoCo is expertly placing his stuffed skunk at the base of a tree near the back porch.

I finally decide it is not really a bad thing to fail at finding a skunk/skunk family, and turn back toward the house. As I trudge up the driveway, I see it. How did it get over there? CoCo sits a mere few yards away on the patio, presumably unaware. My heart does a flip flop. “CoCo!” I stage whisper. “Get in the house! NOW!” He hightails it. I debate with myself whether I can make it to the back door or if I should run around the house to the front.

Oh, my camera! I quickly zoom in and snap some photos, even a little video. Yes, I did it, I have proof! I am breathing hard, and I can feel my heart pounding all the way up in my brain. Can I get to the door in time? This might really be it. I might get sprayed. As I approach, I notice something. The skunk has not moved a muscle. It must really be scared, I think. That’s not good. But actually, where is that incredible amount of fluff in its tail that we marveled at earlier? And why does it look so clean and perfect? Almost like a…a stuffed version…of the real thing.

I am an idiot. I am officially an easy target for a 7-year-old. “CoCo, is that your stuffed skunk?” He bursts out onto the patio, immensely proud of himself, his siblings guffawing behind him.

“Did I get you? Did I really get you this time, Mom?”

“You sure did!”

It’s not until later, while eating lunch around the table, that I remember. The real skunk is still out there.