DANCE OF THE SKUNK

DANCE OF THE SKUNK                                        

         Well, it's February already, the month of Valentine's Day, love and romance. What's been on my mind? ( In addition to the weather, bookkeeping, eating, and other pressing everyday concerns. ) Skunks--that's correct--skunks. I've been thinking about skunks .It all started when my eight-year old granddaughter, Emily, brought home a book about skunks. This was an interesting choice of animal for her to research, and I must admit, I've never given them much thought in the past. As she read to me, I was prepared to "help" with the occasional difficult or new word. I never realized that there was more for me to learn about skunks---- beyond the fact that they are catlike in appearance with a distinctive white stripe and they are to be avoided because of their ability/inclination to spray the worse-smelling substance. Eau de skunk is Timeless.... Unforgettable. ( Like two popular Avon fragrances?) Pungent is a polite understatement.          

         Years ago, the family dog irritated the wrong skunk. It was a humiliating lesson for a naive city dog camping with his family of six in a tent. In the flick of a tail, this poor pet became a reeking pariah.                                                                      

         This is what an acquaintance once feared. She too had been in a tent, but sound asleep. She awoke to the creepy sensation of something slowly crawling up her sleeping bag. Opening her eyes, she found herself face to face with a baby skunk, a kit. Not knowing, ( at that time ), that a kit isn't equipped to spray, she froze. Eventually, the curious youngster sauntered away, leaving behind its calling card--- a puddle of pee and one relieved camper.                                                            

         So, I have skunk facts to share, courtesy of Emily. Knowledge, any knowledge, is power. First of all, they have poor eyesight. I don't believe skunks lose sleep over this. With a natural defence that can be sprayed, at will, from great distances, accuracy is not an issue. Unlike most other weaponry, close is more than close enough! Skunks are omnivores which means they eat almost anything. We have this in common. I, however, refuse to sample rodents and insects, although I appreciate their pest control efforts. Anything that might reduce my contact with mice and bugs can't be all that bad.                                                                                

         Poor eyesight and diet aside, I was surprised to learn that skunks dance. ( An entire chapter of Emily's book was devoted to this strange topic. ) They don't jitterbug or jive. They don't square dance or twerk. Their nightly ritual involves gathering in a circle, and then hopping forward, touching noses, and then hopping backwards to the edge of the circle. Huh, a line dance in the round, performed before each nocturnal foray.                                                                                          

         Perhaps skunks are a romantic lot. They choose to kick up their heels in the moonlight. Courting? Socializing? A skunk version of Dancing With the Stars?          

         Of course, I began to wonder if the skunks speak to each other while dancing. Would they talk about the weather or their families? Would they share hunting or dating tips? If they did, maybe the following would be said.........                    

         "Bob, I'd really like to speak with you, but I'm trying to breathe here, and, do you have to press my nose so hard? Why do we do this? Can't we just slap some paws? Phil told me to keep my nose out of his business. How can I? He likes to poke me with his. Now Joe tells me it sounds like my nose is out of joint. Oh, come on, really? I'm overly-sensitive?"                                                                      

         "Oh come on, back at you, Steve. Every night we meet, form a circle, and dance. It's simple. Everyone in the surfeit does it. It's tradition. Don't get your nose in a knot. Hey, do you see that fine doe over there? She's been looking down her nose checking me out. I'd like to knock noses with her. Do you think she'd like to scavenge with me? What do you figure she eats......worms, berries, mice or eggs? I'm betting it's berries."                                                                                          

         "What doe? The one with her nose always pointed up in the air? No, Bob, No. Phil tells me she lives in a garden shed and before that she bunked with a fox in his den. We crash in a small log. Ow! Hey, watch where you're sticking your nose."          

         "Keep your nose in the dance, Steve. Don't make me look bad. I really like the way her nose crinkles when she squints. Is it just me or does her stripe seem whiter than anyone else's?"                                                                                          

         "I'm tired of this same old, same old. Hop forward, touch noses, hop backward.... over and over. Enough already! Why can't we shuffle or skip? I'd love to try a spin. And this nose-touch thing.....ugh. Wet noses, cold noses, rough noses, runny noses.....Why can't we high five? Did you just snort at me?"                    

         "A high five, Steve? What's next, head butts? Chest bumps? I bet HER nose is soft and warm. Only a few more hops and I'm out of here. I'm going to ask her out to my favourite berry bush. There's plenty of bugs nearby if she prefers them. That should impress her, fine dining in the woods by moonlight."                              

         "Take it easy, Bob. The other bucks say she's fearless. Rumour has it she dared to hiss, growl, stomp her feet, and lift her tail to a bear. She raised enough of a stink to force the bear to abandon its cache of bees and honey. When was the last time you tasted honey, Bob? Do you remember honey-dipped bees? Mmmm. Now my mouth's watering and my stomach's grumbling. I could go for some fresh worms to slurp tonight."                                                                                

         "What, no mouse hunting? Me neither. All that running after scurrying mice, forget it. I'll just be all sweaty and panting. My fur will be ruffled--- not a great first impression. I think I can minimize the berry stains. It's not easy either, speaking with a mouthful of rodent, or picking pieces out of my teeth. Sometimes, they give me gas."

         "Don't you have the keen nose. Really? You're bothered by gas? What about her? I really don't think she can see past her own nose, Bob. Let's get a few of the guys together and go rattle a snake. Come on--- it'll be fun. You could set a new snake-bite record. That'd be impressive."                                                            

         "I don't know, Steve. More snake venom? Remember the last time? We didn't hear that owl swoop. It was a close call, too close. Don't mention dogs either. Nope. I feel like a nice quiet ramble with that doe over there. See ya later."