Watched by Wild Animals

by Enos A. Mills

An entire family of skunks out on a frolic came unexpectedly upon me. They numbered eight. I was sitting on a log against a pine, and resolved not to move. In front of me the mother stepped upon a thorn, flinched, and lifted her foot to examine it. All gathered about her. As they moved this way and that, in the sunshine then in the shadows, their shiny black and clean white showed as though just scoured and polished. Surely they were freshly groomed for a party.

Without noticing me they began playing, jumping, and scuffling about. Then single file they pursued one another round a tree. In a mass they suddenly started to rush round the pine against which I sat. I saw them vanish behind the northwest quarter but when they swept round the southeast I was not there.

In Montana I was sitting on top of a low cliff looking down into a willow thicket below, when a deer shied from the willows and hurried on. Then a coyote came out mad and sneezing. A squirrel went down to investigate but quickly climbed a pine sputtering and threatening. The unusual ever lured me—appealed to my curiosity—and often this brought adventure plus information. So down into the willows I started. From the side of the cliff I reached an out-thrust limb of a pine, swung out, and let go to drop just as the ascending air filled with skunk publicity.

It is sometimes difficult to predict correctly what a skunk will do next. At times my skunk neighbours by my cabin prowled forth at night and again it was in daytime. Generally they showed no concern with the movements of birds and animals unless one came close. On other days they would watch the moves of everything within eye range. Hurrying down a mountainside I one day struck a large skunk with my heavy shoe and knocked him senseless. I waited and watched him survive. Seeing me standing by him he rolled over and played possum.

The young skunks stay with the parents for about one year, I think. In the few instances where I had glimpses inside of winter hibernating dens, the entire family was hibernating together. Apparently the young winter with the parents the first year and scatter the following spring.

Gladly I headed for a prospector’s cabin in which I was to spend a few days and nights. I was scarcely seated by his fireplace when he went outside to “cut some meat” that hung at the rear of the cabin.

The first thing I knew a big skunk stood in the doorway. He looked my way, then started matter-of-fact for me. To heighten interest and to introduce suspense nothing equals the presence of a skunk.

With utmost effort I sat tight. It would have taken more effort to try to turn the skunk or to dodge him. But had I known his next move I would have moved first. He sprang into my lap.

It was too late to dodge so I sat still. He stood up and with paws against me began to look me over. I did not care to lift him off, and he did not “scat.” I stood up so he would slide off. With a forepaw in my vest pocket he hung on and I did not risk shaking too violently.