So today, my mom was going through old photo albums, and came across a couple of pictures that I didn’t even remember existed. I’ve told the story behind them so many times that some people I’ve never even met have heard it, friend-of-a-friend style. The photos have inspired me to repeat the tale one more time, with visual aids…
The year was 1986. It was no longer cool for a man to own a pair of checkered pants, or have a perm, but you know how dads are. One way my dad differed from yours, though, was the fact that he had a koi pond in the back yard - still does, as a matter of fact. Unfortunately for the Japanese carp living in that pond, various suburban wildlife would try to make a meal from them on occasion, and that summer had seen some successful predation from cats and possums. To put an end to the neighborhood animals using the pond as a fishing hole, my dad put out a live-capture trap baited with peanut butter, the idea being to humanely catch and relocate the worst offenders.
The first few days came up empty, but late one night, he heard the sound of the trap door snapping shut, and went outside to investigate. Not a cat. Not a possum. A skunk.
The only thing worse than a skunk in the backyard is a skunk in a trap in the backyard. What do you do with it? My dad approached cautiously, steering clear of the business end, to try to figure out what to do. As he got closer, the skunk seemed completely calm, and my dad worked up the confidence to try picking up the trap and moving it. When this didn’t set the skunk off, so to speak, he took it around to the front yard, got some string, and tied the handle of the cage to the passenger doorhandle of his ancient Volvo 122S. With the skunk lashed to the side of the car, he drove to a canyon a few miles away, untied the still-placid skunk, set the trap down, opened the door, and backed cautiously away.
Much to his relief, the skunk ambled out of the trap and into the bushes without incident.
A few days later, on a Sunday morning, the trap was once again full of fresh skunk. Brimming with confidence based on his previous experience, my dad approached the trap, picked it up, and tied it to the door handle of the car without getting nuked. Since the first skunk episode had happened late at night and nobody had seen it, he took this opportunity to let the next-door neighbor, who was getting ready for church, come out and see it. She had the good sense to grab a camera, and got this photo:
Then, she suggested that my dad get close enough to be in the picture as well.
Literally moments after the shutter closed, it happened. The neighbor (in her Sunday best) got it, and my dad got it. Some in his beard..
A hasty retreat to the garage was made, where he stripped off and bagged the clothes he was wearing (not a moment too soon), and decontaminated himself as best he could with canned tomato juice. Returning to the car, the skunk was once again calm, and my dad, with newfound caution, got in and drove off to release this one as well. On the way, he came up to a stoplight with another car on his right, and the driver kept looking at my dad, then at the skunk, then back to my dad. With great presence of mind, Dad reached over, rolled down his window, and said, “Hey Mister! Want a kitty?”
The story has a happy ending, and a lesson to be learned. My dad released the second skunk without further grief, put the trap away and covered the pond with netting instead, and passes the following advice along to all of you:
Skunks don’t mind being trapped, tied to the side of a car, having their picture taken, or driven five miles to be released - just don’t try to pose with them!
