Photo. by George F. Diehl
A Black Bear
Photo. by E. R. Warren
Antelope
At one point they apparently defended themselves. Coyote tracks behind a log within ten feet of them, their own tracks showing an attitude of defense, and a wild leap and retreat of the coyote—this was the story in the snow.
The majority of my lively skunk experiences were the result of my trying to get more closely acquainted with him. On a number of occasions, however, I was an innocent bystander while some other person had the experience. Then through years of outdoor life I have known skunks to do numerous things of interest in which skunk character and not skunk scent was the centre of interest.
During a night of flooding rain a mother skunk and five tiny skunkies came into the kitchen of a family with whom I was temporarily staying. They probably had been drowned out. Mother skunk was killed and the little ones thrown out the window to die. But father skunk still lived. The next evening when I went in search of the young ones, as I stood looking about, father skunk walked into a bunch of grass and lifted a little skunk out. Taking mouth hold on the back of its neck he carried it a few feet, laid it down, and then picked up another little skunk with it. With the two youngsters hanging from this mouth hold he carried them off into the woods.