I don't know what it is. My family's neighborhood has always been a haven for skunks. They don't bother me all that much generally, but several times we've had a skunk run into our garage, get startled, and hide out for days, spraying every time a dog or cat gets too close. Not cool. Skunks are fearless. Nobody wants to mess with them, and they know it. For a while if you drove down our road at dusk, you'd likely see see a skunk sauntering on the shoulder, making stops at all the houses with cat food. They made the rounds like clock work every day, indifferent to man and animal alike. That is until my dad finally decided to strike back.
Mind you, this isn't a story from my childhood. This happened a year or two ago. My dad had me climb onto the roof of our house with binoculars and my cell phone. He sat watching baseball on TV with a .22 by his side. There I sat, eyes peeled in the near-darkness, perched on the roof. Soon I saw a familiar black shape shuffling down the street. I fumbled for my phone and hit the speed dial. "I have a visual. 2 o' clock, by the fire hydrant." Without a response, I heard a click, and within moments saw my dad crossing the lawn towards the target. minutes later, the skunk's still-warm corpse lay in the street. My dad dressed in winter clothes, (I'm still not sure what that was supposed to accomplish,) and he shoveled the limp varmint into a garbage bag and threw him into the gulch behind my house. He smelled like a skunk for a couple days after, and probably had to throw out the clothes, but it was a victory against the skunks.
Another time, a skunk ran into our cats' house. My dad ran over and covered the opening with a board. Together, he and my brother Derek hoisted the house, and threw it off a 30' ft. cliff. I wasn't there for that one. There have been others. I won't detail all of them as some of the stories are more incriminating than others, but needless to say, we have an epic battle going on.
Every time we push back against the skunk invasion, it wins us a couple months of respite from their relentless odorous onslaught, but a couple of weeks ago, those striped devils upped the ante.
A skunk dug a burrow under our concrete porch and took up residence in our back yard! Like any good soldier behind enemy lines, this skunk knew how to keep a low profile. It waited until the dead of night to slink out of its lair. It moved like a shadow, only leaving a faint trace of its scent. It was without a doubt the most formidable foe we've faced to date. It lived in the lion's den for a couple of months, fearlessly stealing cat food from under our noses. Mind you, this happened after the semester started in Cedar, so I wasn't there to see the ensuing events firsthand. Last weekend my brother Dylan went up north to visit my parents, and it was then that my dad decided to strike. If the skunk wouldn't come out of its hole, then he would go in after it. He duct taped a hose to the exhaust pipe of my sister's 94 Ford Taurus, and stuck the other end into the burrow, and blocked off the entrance with a tire. They then started the car and let the car work its slow lethal magic. DEATH BY ASPHYXIATION! PWNED! That is why we have opposable thumbs, and skunks have stupid little digging claws. Maybe next time.