Skunk Saga Finale

Happy birthday to my fearless hero, who single-handedly, at the advice of poison control, crawled under our house last night, wearing coveralls, goggles, a spelunker's head lamp, and a painter's mask (where is your apocalyptic gas mask when you actually need it?) and collected the sixty five mothballs I had flung under there to expel a skunk, but the fumes of which were expelling us!

Skunk Saga Continues

Well Mr. or Mrs. Skunk disappeared for two days--not a footprint, not a nibble at the trap. I stuck a small, easily movable stone in the vent opening, just to prove that the critter was gone. It stayed there. We were singing: "Hallelujah--skunk's gone away!" until Monday morning.

I arose early and took my walk, returning just in time to see the city "animal control guy" moving the trap. He had decided that the skunk had abandoned his comfortable home under our house, but had to be in the area, so he set the trap by the trash can and left. In a couple of hours I checked the vent, just to gloat. Alas. The stone was missing entirely. Thinking the skunk had pushed it in, I assumed he had taken up residence in his old quarters. For all of five minutes it depressed me, but I recovered nicely and decided it was time for me to stop letting the city guys solve the problem for me and go on the offensive.

On the advice of a good friend from church--who shall remain nameless --I bought a box of old fashioned moth balls, the kind you smell when you open an old trunk in your grandmother's attic. They told me skunks don't like the smell, so they could be scattered in the doorway of a skunk's castle, and work like a wafting curtain of repellent. I didn't want to put them in the vent, however, because it might drive the skunk further under the house, so I decided to throw them under the house from the access door that opens onto our basement stairwell. Cautiously, lest I surprise a skunk, I eased the door open and flung mothballs as far as I could throw them under the house. I may have thrown more than the recommended dosage...maybe...ok, probably. Well, a skunk's a skunk and we have a wedding in two weeks. He had to go! Right? So, I walked around the outside perimeter of the house and dropped a couple in every vent, where they were trapped between the screen and the outer vent. Finally, I emptied the white dust out of the box, right in the creature's doorway. In other words, since he had made our home his castle, I would poison the moat.

"What's that smell?" asked Claye a couple of hours later.
I sniffed. "Mothballs. It's probably just the trash where I discarded the box."
I carried it out to the dumpster.
Still, the smell persisted.

In a couple of hours, Turtle returned home and opened the basement door. He was hoping to visit the "man cave"--a tiny little den where we put the television and all the camping gear so he can have peaceful evenings madly changing channels to his heart's content and falling asleep in the rocking chair while he watches the history channel.

"Whoa! Are you trying to poison me? What's this smell?"
"Mothballs"
"In here?"
"Um. Under the house."
I had forgotten the holes in the access door and the smell was overwhelming.
Grumbling something about why hadn't I consulted him, he stopped up the holes with a couple of old rags and we thought our problem was solved...or at least would dissipate before we returned from Texas on Tuesday night.

It didn't. This morning, when I woke Turtle at five thirty so we could go pick up the U-haul to spend a day moving a son to his own place and a daughter back home, he complained of a bad headache. The house smelled heavily of mothballs, and the basement was noxious. We couldn't do anything about it, in view of the day's tasks, so we all drove out of town. The guys had to deliver a piano, heavy dresser, and couch to Elijah's new home. (He and Marie are getting married but that's another story). Claye and I drove down to her apartment and spent the morning packing the kitchen and the closets into boxes and bins. When the guys arrived, around noon, we loaded everything, cleaned the apartment, turned in the keys and followed them home.

Meanwhile, Elijah, taking advantage of the hours on the road, had called poison control and explained the situation. They advised us to remove all the mothballs, air out the house, and be prepared for nausea, respiratory problems and headaches.

Arriving home, around four o'clock, we immediately flung open the windows and turned on the fans. The house aired while we unloaded into the garage and carried boxes and furniture up to the attic.

Here I sit typing the entire story on the computer while Turtle hunts for a gas mask, goggles and a flash light.

Somewhere...a skunk is laughing.

Skunk Saga

Well the city guys came out yesterday and set a trap in front of our skunk's front door. He was supposed to smell the food pellets, follow them into the box, be trapped by the falling portcullis, and rest contentedly without spraying anything until they get here to take him away.

Supposed to...
This morning the trap still looked like this.
I'm beginning to think our skunk is a Mrs. Skunk, and maybe there is a whole nest of skunklets under there. Won't that be nice if they all detonate right before the wedding?
People would remember that one for years.

That Old Skunk

Last night, we were determined to block the skunk's gateway to the underworld of our house, so Turtle went into action. Loyd stayed around after VBS, staking out a position in his vehicle and helping us watch for the creature's departure. Turtle watched from inside the den. Loyd saw the skunk first as he crossed our yard--keeping well within the shadows of the fence--and dove into the underbrush of the creek across the street. He called Turtle on his cell phone and my fearless protector went into action with a heavy slab of wood, two stakes and a sledge hammer. He pounded the stakes into the ground, being careful not to mess up my flower bed of pampered petunias, and slid the board between them and the house. "There," he said, reassuringly, "That'll keep him out."

This morning, just before sunrise, I heard noises by the back door. The skunk was actually trying to get into the house, nosing at the door and scratching at the glass for all the world like a pet dog. I waited until he moved over toward the trash can, then stepped outside and got his picture.

"Foiled!"
He raised his tail.
I retreated into the house and waited until he trotted off around the corner of the garage before I dared to leave for my morning walk. I imagined that he would hide in the woods, or under a swooping juniper bush in the front yard.

But I badly underestimated the fury of that skunk.

When I returned from my walk, I saw Turtle walking around outside, talking on the phone. Immediately, I thought someone had died. Thankfully no. He was talking to city hall to see if our town had an animal control unit because our uninvited resident, Mr. Skunk, had attacked the portcullis, thrown down the stakes, and gained access to the castle dungeon.






Hmmm. Now what?
My petunias are highly offended.

The Skunk

There's a skunk under my house. Yes, you read right, a real skunk.
Last evening as I was getting ready for bed I got a call from Loyd, one of the elders in our church, who was the last to leave the building after our evening VBS.
"Hey, I was driving by your house and guess what? I just saw the prettiest little black and white kitty come from your flower bed and head toward the creek."
It took me a minute to ponder why he would call me over a kitty. I'm allergic to cats, but one in the yard is no problem. Then it soaked in.
"Ok, I'll stay in."
"No. I think he has a nest under your house. Are you sure there's not a hole somewhere there?"
"Well, I don't think so. All the vents are sealed off."
"You'd better check. Skunks can get in through very small holes. Right now he's gone, so it'd be a great time to seal any holes you see."
So I dressed and went outside. Sure enough, there was a little hole at the bottom of the vent to the crawl space where a brick was missing. I found a brick that was more or less the right size, then piled more bricks over and around it for good measure, went back into the house and went to bed. This morning just before six, I checked the vent before I took off for my morning walk. The bricks had been moved; the little skunk hole was open again, so I know he's under there.
I don't think I'll vacuum the bedroom today; don't want to startle anything.
After he leaves on his nocturnal prowl tonight, I'll pile a mountain of bricks or cement the space.