So one day I’m on my way to the chicken coop around sunset and there’s a skunk. I blast it to a unit that I seldom use, but which is appropriate at this time… smitherines.
End of story right? Nope.
The next day I go out to feed the chickens; once again around sunset. I’m dreading it but I’ll have to shovel up the remaining molecules of the teenage skunk I blasted 24 hours ago.
MORE SKUNKS!
This time two little baby skunks (called kits) are hanging out on the divot that used to be, apparently, mom. Oh crap…
Kits are the cutest beings on earth. They’re cuter than kittens or puppies. They’re just absolutely the sweetest most innocent looking things you’ll ever see. I know what I’ve got to do… they have to die. I tried “coexisting” with them; using loud radios to discourage them from moving into my outbuildings, improving fences to keep them out, etc…
It didn’t work. I live on a homestead. Certain things are true. A skunk in the vicinity of the outbuildings or livestock food has to die. The sooner the better.
I know this to be true but I hate shooting kits anyway.
The two little kits were only slightly bigger than chipmunks. They were crawling around on the dead carcass of what I’d thought was a “teenage” skunk. It was probably… actually certainly the mother. The little ones might well have been too young to have been weaned. They were doomed anyway.
Sigh…
I aimed very carefully and took out both with one shot.
Damn. I felt like I’d clubbed a hundred baby seals.
It was plenty skunky though. I backed away, fed the chickens, and sulked back to the house.
End of story right? Nope. Stay tuned.
Been there.. done that.. not with skunks mind-you.. but it shocks the soul!