Conepatus mesoleucu

I had me a close encounter the other night.

First a little story from my teenagehood. In the family-room-type room at my parents' house, there's a door to the outside. These days there's a chair in front of it, but we used to have it open during the summer all the time, and we also used to have me up into the wee hours of the night when I was home from college, watching Letterman and MTV and what have you.

One night when I was down there by myself, around midnight, I heard someone say my name. I FLEW through the living room and up the stairs, my arms waving in the air over my head. Turns out it was my best friend, Ellen, and her friend Ben. My Dad nearly shot them, GOOD TIMES!, but in the end, we had a good ... no, no, only Ben laughed that night. Ellen apologized, and I tried to reattach my head to my body.

And now, back to modern times.

I like to sit by the open French doors -- sorry, Freedom doors -- in the dark sometimes doing a little yoga. Sometimes I go outside to do it. This night, I stayed inside.

I finished my yoga and was happily reclining in relaxation pose. I swear to all the gods, my gut told me to reach over with my right foot and shut the door. Well, no thank you, Gut, I'd like to sit up and look out at the night for a few minutes, says I. Why should I shut the door?

I sat up and looked out at the night.

I noticed this small white shape moving across the grass. It didn't fit the visual recognition pattern of any animal I could think of. Really, the closest I could come was an angelfish, its size and the way it was moving very gently and fluidly. It nuzzled its nuzzler through the grass, sniffing out who knows what. I was a little freaked out, seeing this thing out there that I coudn't identify. Badger? I wondered. But that wasn't it.

Then I had it, and I froze.

Skunk.

He was just beyond the concrete patio, so only about 8-10 feet away, and close enough, I was certain, to douse me if he got scared.

I still had a wee bit of doubt, since he had such a broad swath of white across his back and tail -- no stripes at all. Finally he waddled past the wall separating my yard area from my neighbor Stephen's, and out of sight. I breathed a sigh of relief and started to move.

Then he came back.

Not only did he come back, but he gradually made his way RIGHT UP TO THE DAMNED DOOR. "Dude, can't you SMELL ME??" I yelled silently. Isn't that a HALLMARK of A NOCTURNAL ANIMAL? Regardless, up to the door he came -- it's screen top to bottom, no metal paneling -- sniffing, I'm guessing, a chipmunk footpath, one or two feet from me. And then he lifted his tail.

I slammed the door shut, and he was off like a shot. If he'd had arms, they would have been waving over his head as he flew.

This is my new little terrified friend:











from http://www.lioncrusher.com/animal.asp?animal=213

and this is what I saw moving through the yard.





I felt really bad for scaring the cute little bugger, but just imagine if he had sprayed into the apartment. GLARGH. He would have gotten me, the bookcase, the carpet, the couch ... Otherwise, he was adorable! Good snuffling to you out there, little munkyskunk.