A skunk at the door

Nancy was over at Farside cottage last night, hooting for owls and howling for the wolves with some guests here from Germany.

They had spent the day in Algonquin Park, and while they had really enjoyed the fall colours and the hiking, they had not seen any wildlife at all. Returning to the cottage, they were met by deer on the lawn.
Nancy gave them a lesson in 'Canoeing 101' and off they went around the bay, having a great time. About 9.30, while both Canada and America were deep in debate for the coming elections, we all stepped out into the dark, to see who was close by.

While Carol heard the Great Horned Owl the other morning, our owls continued their summer tradition of not replying to Nancy's hoots. But the wolves...

The whole pack opened up in song, somewhere over on the hill by the Sugarbush trail. They howled for us twice.

Nancy and Achmed the Cat returned to her house, tripped lightly up the steps, and found a fluffy black and white striped tail sticking out of the dog food bag in the porch. Nancy tripped lightly right back down the steps. Mr. Skunk poked his sharp little nose out of the bag, and we looked at each other. Achmed wisely left.

He was a good little skunk - he didn't spray, or make a mess, and given the invitation, he elected to simply leave the porch. All is good. We get skunks on the lawn at this time of year, usually at night, digging for grubs and leaving telltale little holes in the grass. They are actually rather sociable creatures, not aggressive, and quite willing to go through life without ever deploying their formidable scent glands, with a nifty liquid called "mercaptan." The trick is not to antagonize them. (or to be the sixth person to do so -- they can only make enough scent to spray five times a week...) Brian has it down to a fine science, if he catches one in the live-trap, and he can move the trap and still smell like a rose. He figures the stripes are really a Bar Code, identifying each skunk.

You don't, however, really want to see them in the porch.