The calendar will tell you that today is the first day of summer, but I don’t need no stinkin’ calendar to figure out as much. The skunks serve the same (and more truly malodorous) purpose.
We moved to Keene last July, and one of the first things we noticed was how many skunks there are here. Now, we certainly had skunks living around our house in Hillsboro: in our early homeowning days when I used an old-fashioned, non-mechanized push mower to cut the wildflower-and-moss-speckled patch that we called a “lawn,” I’d regularly see the shallow scrapes left by hungry skunks digging for grubs. (Ours was an entirely organic “lawn”; besides having clumps of moss and clusters of wild strawberry, our yard was home to lightning-fast leopard frogs, slightly slower green frogs, and slowly-ambling-outta-the-way American toads. So grubs and the skunks that snout them were welcome as well.) The skunks in Hillsboro, though, were largely invisible; we saw their signs but not their selves. Since bears frequent the woods that surrounded our house, we kept our trash securely stashed in a closed garage: in Hillsboro, we took our trash to the local dump rather than setting it out for municipal pickup, which made for slim pickings for both bears and skunks.
When we moved to Keene last July, one of the major delights of returning to the “big city” life of a town of 20,000 versus one of 5,000 was the phenomenon of street-side trash pickup. Although Keene doesn’t have municipal residential trash-pickup, most homeowners (especially those who rent portions of their property) hire private contractors to deal with their rubbish. Our landlord pays a trash collection service to pickup our trash on Monday mornings (yep, I just put this week’s offering on the curb), and various neighbors are under contract with companies that pickup trash on Tuesday, Wednesday, etc.
One result of this particular rubbish-removal setup is that there is no unified “garbage day” in any given neighborhood, which explains why on any given summer night you will see single skunks strolling down streets and sidewalks trying to figure out which residential “restaurant” will be putting out its weekly bouquet of aromatic delights. Skunks, in case you aren’t familiar with the stripey, stinky critters, love trash. Several years ago, in fact, several animal-rights organizations tried to petition General Mills to change the distinctive wide-bottomed, narrow-necked design of their single-serving Yoplait yogurt containers: it seems the things were perfectly designed to allow a hungry skunk to stick his head in but not to pull his head out. Although skunks aren’t large enough to knock over a full trash-can, they will nibble through trash bags and are savvy enough to forage through cans knocked over by renegade dogs. (Leash laws notwithstanding, you’d think the fact that we have stink-squirting weasels roaming nocturnal streets would be reason enough to keep your dog close-to-home at night, but apparently some folks think as if their heads were stuck in Yoplait yogurt containers.)
During the winter months, skunks hibernate in dens which they sometimes share with up to 10 of their maladorous fellows (who else, after all, would willingly bed down with a skunk?) In the spring, skunks are preoccupied with breeding; now that it’s June, their first litters have been born. So the skunk we saw strolling down Marlboro Street here in Keene last night was probably out looking for take-out to bring back to Mom and a den of hungry kids. Male skunks, I read, can range between 4 and 5 square miles a night foraging for food, so their comic weasel-waddle is deceptive: when it comes to bringing home the bacon, grubs, or over-ripe yogurt, these creatures are diligent wanderers.
I kind of like skunks…from a distance. We saw them frequently last summer, and I assume they’ll be just as active this year. I’ve learned to put the trash out in the morning, not at night, just in case the skunks, raccoons, oppossums, or renegade dogs are about, and we’re careful not to let the dog outside off-leash at night. In the darkness, of course, skunks look something like bushy-tailed cats or enormous squirrels, and Reggie hasn’t yet had a chance to learn the hard way about urban skunkdom. Robert Frost wrote that good fences make for good neighbors, and when it comes to skunks, so do strong leashes and sturdy trash cans.
- Since photographing noctural critters is notoriously difficult, I have no skunk photos to share. So I hope you enjoyed more pictures from Saturday’s architectural walking tour. Both of these Queen Anne style houses are on Court Street here in Keene; the first was built in 1885 and the second presumably dates sometime similar.
Jun 21, 2004 at 9:51 am
Your skunk report reminds me of my college days when I was driving my dad’s brand new T-bird where we lived in the country. As sometimes sadly happens, I ran over a skunk I couldn’t avoid and had the misfortune to accidentally end the poor critter’s life. But he or she had the last word by passing on via impact with this week-old car’s muffler. For the next month, every time the car subsequently warmed up, the aroma was, ah, poignant until it finally wore off. Dad was, ah, sorta understanding but not real happy for the rest of that odorous month!
LikeLike
Jun 21, 2004 at 9:52 am
There are some amazingly beatiful homes on Court Street. When I used to work down that way, I was able to salivate over them every day I had to work. I see them much less frequently now, but that just makes me appreciate them more.
Although I know in most small towns (which I still consider Keene to be even though it’s officially a “city”) the oldest, grandest homes are near the common, it always kind of catches me by surprise in Keene that the most beautiful, most expensive homes abutt some not so great areas of town – and are located on the “hospital expressway”.
LikeLike
Jun 21, 2004 at 9:34 pm
My grandfather used to sit out in his yard in Nashua in a low-slow Adirondack chair and often their cat would slink by under his dangling arm to get stroked before trotting on. You can see where this is going. Yes, a skunk also slinked by and got stroked and as he trotted away my grandfather nearly had a stroke of his own.
LikeLike
Jun 21, 2004 at 10:37 pm
My mother says that when I was two years old she looked out the window to see me in the front yard petting a skunk. I don’t remember it. There were no dire consequences. I guess I was a geek magnet at quite an early age.
LikeLike
Jun 23, 2004 at 7:41 am
Hmmm, looks like lots of folks have skunk stories!
Gary, what a memorable “close encounter”! Funny how squished skunks *continue* to wreak havoc even after death. What I find most impressive about this story, though, is that your Dad would have let you drive his brand-new T-bird…that’s trust! Thank goodness you didn’t hit a deer or (around these parts) moose that would have caused lasting structural damage: *that* would have been more difficult to forgive!
Kathleen, I’m going to have to spend more time strolling around Court Street: the houses *are* lovely. I’ve always steered clear, though, because of the “expressway” effect you note. When we were doing this walking tour, I could barely hear what the leader said about each house, the traffic was so loud. I guess that’s what happens when you have the only hospital for miles around.
Leslee, what a great skunk story! You have to wonder if the skunk knew what he was getting into: why else would he walk right up to a *person*? And I guess the skunk must have liked the stroking if there were no smelly consequences!
Tom, I’m giggling at the notion of you being a “geek magnet,” but I’ll agree that this is a pretty amazing story. Had I been your mother, I would have had a heart attack right there on the spot: besides the risk of stink, skunks are common rabies carriers. So you’re lucky you have such an apparent way with animals!
Thanks, everyone, for sharing such wonderful stories!
LikeLike