Dodging Service, or, Skunk Saga Update

My darned stinky friend Pierre is still comfortable ensconced in the hole underneath my dining room.  We have tried repeatedly to serve the eviction notice on him, but he's very good at dodging the process servers.  Thus far we have tried bright light, lots of noise, vinegar and even smoke from smouldering sage.  All to no avail.

How do we know he hasn't left us, you ask?  Partly because we've been carefully observing the skunk prints in the snow and mud outside his entrance hole, but also because he's a complete stinker in more ways than one.  On Sunday when we checked the live trap that we have been leaving under the dining room next to his hole, it was immediately apparent that he has been reaching his paws through the end of the live trap to grab cat food bait out of it for a snack.  He left us some nice little skunky claw marks through the edge of the wet cat food in the trap.  He apparently did not access the food from the proper opening of the trap because it was wide open and empty, and is functioning properly.

Is he really that smart - smart enough to know not to go into the trap but to reach through the bars and scrape out what he can instead???  If he didn't smell so strongly of skunk I'd think we had a raccoon under there.  That seems more like a conniving resourceful raccoon sort of trick than a skunk trick.  Apparently I need to rethink my assessment of skunk intelligence, and come up with a more effective way of shielding the live trap bait from his grasping little paws.

Bless his smelly little heart, though, he refrained from spraying or getting sprayed over the weekend when we had house guests and threw a party.  Whew!  Despite that kindness, though, he still really really needs a new home.  One of our party guests informed us that he and his wife had at one time trapped seven (seven!) skunks out of their yard in quick succession. Here's hoping there's only one stubborn stinker under my dining room.

Tally to date:

Skunk 15
Humans 0

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Eviction Notice

For those of you who have been breathlessly following my skunk saga, well, you can't possibly be as breathless as I feel after last night's stench fest.  Egad!  The thing is getting smellier!

After several successive nights of peace, we woke up at 4:00 a.m. gasping for air.  At first we though the house was on fire because it didn't really smell like skunk, it smelled like burning tires.  But a thorough investigation of the house confirmed that it was indeed just Pierre & Co., smelling to high heaven in their peaceful hidey-hole under our dining room.  Any skunk experts out there have an explanation for how he can smell different?

Last night did it.  Pierre is getting his eviction notice tonight.  The order, warrant and judgment were issued by this olfactory Judge, and will be served by the U.S. Marshall (a.k.a. my husband) tonight.  The warrant will be in the form of vinegar soaked rags, coyote calls, booming bass, bright lights, and anything else we can think of to drive the little booger out.  Once he's out, the holes are getting boarded/chicken wired/stoned up.

I just hope we don't accidentally close anyone in there if we close it off after one skunk leaves.  There's the chance there's more than one stinky skunk residing in the deep hole that's been dug into the dirt under the crawl space.  Just in case we accidentally close one in, we're setting a live trap down there loaded with cat food.  I don't think one is supposed to transport any animal that can carry rabies, but if we catch one I'm bending the rule and transporting him succinctly to my property line.

God help me, my house smelled so badly of skunk last night that I keep catching whiffs of it here in my office this morning.  My clothing is permeated with the smell, which is impressive given that my clothing is on the second floor, and Pierre stank below the first floor.  I keep waiting for people's noses to wrinkle as they step into my office...

Ick!

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Smelly Houseguest

I mentioned back in the fall that we have a skunk living in the crawl space under our dining room.  His name is Pierre.  We were too lazy to remove Pierre last summer, and then it got to the point where we felt too guilty to remove him because we didn't know if he'd be able to find another warm spot to spend the cold winter months.  We figured he'd sleep most of the winter, anyway, so what would be the harm in leaving him there until spring?

It turns out February is the harm.  Mating season has begun.  And peeeeee-u!  A smelly season it is.

I cannot seem to find a good book about skunks, so am going off observation, a PBS Nature show on skunks, and what little good info I've been able to scavenge out of encyclopedic books about mammals.  Anyone have any good skunk books to recommend?  I do happen to think they're quite fascinating critters.  Random facts about striped skunks that I have stumbled upon: they like to eat honey bees (no idea how they deal with the stingers in their tongues), and they are mighty good at killing snakes, even poisonous ones.  I also happen to think they are both handsome and comically lumbering.  Oh, and they love the cat food our misguided neighbor puts out for the local feral cat population.

Skunks don't really hibernate.  They take nice long naps, and their heart and breathing rates can drop a bit, but they get up and about fairly frequently in search of munchies.  This has been evidenced all winter by the footprints leading in and out of the opening to Pierre's snug little den.

Reports seem to vary on whether they sleep alone or in cozy piles, and with our skunk we have no proof one way or another.  However, based on the number of prints out there and their consistent size, I think Pierre might be sleeping alone.  Some reports say the females sleep in groups and males overwinter alone, which might indicate Pierre really is a he.  It's hard to say.

Our only problem with Pierre through the winter may not really be attributable to him, and may just be a coincidence.  We suspect he may have fleas, since we've had to keep flea treatments on the pets right through the winter, which I've never had to do before.  Usually the fleas die off in the winter, and we get a break in having to keep the flea treatments on the kids.  Financially, that's a bonus.  Flea meds from the vet cost a boatload for 2 dogs and 3 cats.  But this year, fleas have remained in the house right through this winter, despite the monthly flea treatments.  Perhaps we could get rid of the fleas if I could put Advantage on the skunk, but I'm just not that adventuresome.

Regardless, we had no stink trouble until about a week and a half ago.  Pierre was his usual mild-mannered, flea-ridden house guest with stripes.  No stinking.

Then mating season began.

Several nights a week now, we awaken around 2 a.m. gasping for air.  We open windows, we turn on fans, we light incense offerings to the scent gods, and groggily laugh through the gasping because we're completely overtired and slap-happy.  The poor dogs sneeze repeatedly, and when you're a Basset hound with super short legs, sneezing creates the unfortunate hazard of slamming one's nose into the floor.  Yet another Basset hound design flaw.

I admit the nighttime ritual is losing its charm through repetition.  It takes 24 hours for the smell to diminish to a comfortable level, and it never seems to dissipate completely.  The dining room, directly over where he's sleeping, retains a perpetual faint skunk odor.  The little guy is just constantly emanating a noxious, nose searing stench.

I have two guesses as to why he stinks so much lately.  I've read conflicting reports on this issue, and don't know if either report is correct.  One version of the story is that amorous males often wind up getting sprayed by any females who just aren't into him.  Scent glands = convenient loser guy repellent.  The other version of the story is that males just get wicked jumpy this time of year and spray everything in sight.  If that's the case, perhaps some droplets are landing on his own fur.  I'm not sure which it is, but I can personally attest that there is a lot of spraying going on.

I can also attest that he has got to go.

So the question is, how early is too early to remove our fine stripy friend?  I don't want to displace the little booger when it's so cold out he'll freeze to death for lack of a den in which to sleep.  I also don't want to wait too late, and run the risk that he is a she and will have a bunch of kits stuffed under our dining room, too.  Baby skunks are impossibly cute, with little beady black eyes and velvety black little noses and hands, but they grow up to be just as stinky as their parents.

I'm thinking lease termination in late March, perhaps?  With a roughly 66 day gestation and mating starting in February, I'm thinking late April is a possibility for kits, so we need to evict Pierre long before then, just in case.

The next question, of course, is just HOW to get rid of him.  I've heard the rumor skunks don't take to music with a lot of bass.  So I'm thinking some Metallica to encourage him to leave, and a whole lot of chicken wire to encourage him to stay out.  Anyone else have brilliant skunk evicting inspiration??

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Pierre le Pew, Or, Basement Ick, Part 2.

The feral cats have tried any number of times to re-open the entrances old Biggsy had dug into the place, and it's been a constant battle to keep them blocked.  For the most part, though, we've kept a step ahead of them, and for a while we were patting ourselves on the back for being smarter than the cats.

That was until we discovered Pierre le Pew.

Pierre is handsome, small, mostly black with some dashing white stripes down his back and tail, cute little beady black eyes, and a glandular body odor problem.  We discovered his presence one late spring morning, when we awoke to discover the house reeked of skunk.  Upon further investigation, however, the great outdoors turned out to smell fresh and lovely.  The problem was in the house.  Or under it.

Oh frabjous day.  What fun.

Thankfully, though, Pierre has turned out to be a decent tenant, all things considered.  He comes and goes quietly, gets on great with our outdoor cat Tucker (we have actually witnessed them touching noses in greeting), and is about as easy-going as a skunk could be.  He studiously ignores us when we are out doing yard work at dusk, and has even tolerated the dogs remarkably patiently.  Furthermore, he doesn't come into the house or even the main part of the basement, but seems to stick to the crawl spaces.  But cute though he is, I'd rather not just let him remain and await the day when he loses patience with my irritatingly exuberant dogs and sprays them.  I'm just sayin'.

I haven't the heart to trap him, poison him, smoke him out, or any of the other horrid things people do to get rid of "pests".  It's not Pierre's fault that our basement makes a perfectly luxurious and snug little skunk abode.  I've had folks recommend moth balls as a skunk repellent but am not keen on deliberately fumigating skunk and house with napthalene.  Instead, we coughed up three times as much for what essentially amounts to essence of pepper:

I spent an hour or so freezing in the cold waiting for Pierre to emerge around dusk Sunday night so I could get his mug shot for this blog, to no avail.  He always emerges right at dusk.  We've seen him dozens of times, poking his quivery little black nose out for a sniff before waddling across the yard in search of garbage and garden pests.  But last night all I managed to get was numb toes, a frozen camera battery, and a shot of the evening sky:

Because Pierre's been such a pleasant tenant, I've tried to ignore the problem all summer.  Fall is upon us and passing quickly, though, and while I'm not terribly familiar with the hibernation patterns of skunks, I am certain we can't be too far off from the day when he curls his pretty little stripey tail over his nose and commences snoozing in earnest.  Perhaps the distinct chill in last night's air kept him in.  That fear has finally driven us to sprinkle the basement crawl spaces liberally with the pepper stuff (or at least those areas we dare crawl into, knowing he's in there too), in hopes he'll relocate for his winter nap.

Do I think we'll be that lucky?  Uh, no.  Probably not that lucky.  In fact, what little research I've done about skunks and winter informs me that they don't truly hibernate, but rather invite all their buddies into their houses to take extended naps together in a furry smelly pile.  Given how appealing our crawl spaces are compared with some of the alternatives I can envision, I suspect Pierre's not going anywhere, but is about to throw an extended house party.

How do I know if the pepper worked?  I have no idea.  I don't really intend to investigate.  But I think perhaps I'll put off installing more insulation in the crawl spaces until spring.  I just don't relish a close encounter with my stinky little friend and all his stinky little friends in close quarters where I can only back up on my knees in the dirt while whacking my spine on the floorboards above and being assaulted with offensive burning blasts of nastiness.

In case you're wondering, we do happen to keep a healthy supply of baking soda and hydrogen peroxide on hand.  Just in case.

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