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I stepped outside, trash bag in hand, and walked my way to the western edge of the deck where the trash cans have their own bin down two steps in the yard. The bin holds two large cans, and the top rim of the hand made bin is as tall as the cans, minus their lids. The trash cans cannot be moved out of the bin except by human hands.
The first thing I noticed was the lid of the nearest trash can laying in the yard. A strong wind, I thought? As I neared the bin, lifting the big trash bag to drop it into the lidless can, I heard a scuffling sound. I dropped the bag, but as I did, I caught sight of a black furry something in the bottom of the can! I jerked the heavy trash bag out of the can, and without getting too close, I peered from my advanced height on my deck, over into the trash can. Two black eyes attached to the body of a furry black and white striped creature looked back at me.
I dropped the trash bag on to the deck. Oh dear. I took a backward step, sniffing the air around me. Not a scent did I smell. I was well out of sight of the creature. Maybe he was wounded, it was for sure he couldn’t get out of the can once he got into it. But how did that skunk get the lid off the can in the first place? It was empty, it had no other trash in it.
The little guy wasn’t telling any secrets, and as I peered over the rim of the can again, he was peering back up at me. I jerked back. Of course I looked for all the world like a giant monster to him. He could send that foul smelling shot of his perfume at any moment right up in my direction. What to do? What to do?
So I had to turn the trash can over, he was stuck in there, and could have been there for several days, but I was outside last night, and the top to the can was secure then, so perhaps he had gained entrance under darkness of night. OK. I had to upend the trash can.
Now that is no easy task. It’s down in its bin, where it has safely lived for years. I would have to lift it up past the top rim of the bin in order to upend it. In order to do that little task, I had to stand over it, grasp it’s two handles, lift up, then turn over.
He was sure to spray me right in my newly shampooed hair! But I couldn’t leave him in there. The spray from a skunk couldn’t be much worse than the odor from a dead skunk, and he would be dead if he couldn’t get out.
So far, no odor. But how could I lift up the can without being seen by those beady black eyes? A broom handle. Of course, I could wedge the end of a broom handle beneath one of the handles. I tried, I really did, but it didn’t work.
Keeping my distance, I measured the length of my arms from my hiding place just out of sight of the skunk in the bottom of the empty trash can. I could barely reach the handle on one side. I slowly lifted upward.
I could hear his little toenails scratching furiously, trying to get a grip somewhere in the depths of the moving trash can. I dared not breathe. So far, though, no whiff of an unpleasant scent. I had even spray washed the trash can just last week, so there was nothing in the bottom of it.
I lifted upward some more. One handed, since I couldn’t reach the handle on the other side. This was no easy feat, a huge trash can and only one arm. I started the slow tilt over the edge of the rim of the bin. Little toenails scratched more furiously. Quick as could be, I upended the trash can, and as if in slow motion, little black and white furry critter slid to the grass. He scrambled to his feet while I dropped the trash can back into its bin. It made a horrendous cluttering noise, and I knew if he were going to spray me, now would be the moment. I stepped back, still on the deck, and do you know that little fat skunk stopped in his tracks, turned around, and just stared at me. Neither of us said a word, we just eyed each other, blue eyes looking into black ones, up and down.
Then he turned away from me, looked back one more time, lifted his tail, flicked it once in my direction, and sauntered away.
I watched him walk away, waddling a little, as if a night in the trash can had addled him somewhat. He glanced back at me again, flicked that tail held aloft, and then continued on his way, with not a care in the world.
He left not a whiff of any kind of scent, only the memory embedded in my mind.
God's Warrior
What a precious story! Thank you so much for rescuing the little critter and for telling us about it. You have a good heart and your kindness toward the frightened little skunk was known by him. I just know it!
Mary
I'm glad you came out of this little encounter unskunked. Maybe you should consider having the bin modified to make a gate. If the can had been even half full, you might still have a visitor in striped clothing. I wonder, does he eat Cupcake's food that I think you leave outside or in the garage. Oh, the garage! If you had a kitty door, the skunk might have used it. OOOOO, a pungent thought!
Sharran
Hello ladies...
Cupcake is fed in the garage, so far no skunky smell from that direction.
And Cupcake is so vocal, I think I'd know if anything entered her territory.
Strange encounter, it was, though. Haven't seen him again.
Cute little guy, though a little wobbly.
God's Warrior
We would probably be wobbly too if we had undergone such an ordeal. No telling how long he had tried to climb out to no avail. I would hope that his better instincts are telling him to steer clear of your place. Kind of reminds me of Peter Rabbit going into Mr. McGreagor's garden after being warned not to go there. Maybe your skunk will be wiser than Peter Rabbit.
