Dear Diary,
Hudson is a city, but a very small city, and in spite of its urbanness (and urbaneness), there is wildness all around. Sometimes the encroachment of wildness can be quaint and quirky; at other times, not so much.
Walking with my dog, Joey, early Monday morning, I sensed movement behind us. Turning, I saw a deer, just a few yards away, bounding across Allen Street near the courthouse, its hooves beating a delicate tattoo on the pavement. That was quaint and quirky. On Tuesday night, our encounter with wildness was of another sort.
It was 10 p.m., and it was raining. I had just returned from working at the polls for eleven hours, and Joey was desperately in need of a walk. We left the house, crossed the street, and headed for the corner. It was then that we spotted (Joey first, then me) an animal moving on the other side of the street--in front a house a few doors down from ours. It was a skunk!
Joey started toward the skunk, but mercifully he didn't bark. Fearing he might (even from the other side of the street) trigger the skunk's defense mechanism, I pulled Joey close to me, while pleading softly, "Don't bark. Don't bark."
When I saw the skunk heading down between two houses toward a backyard, we continued on our walk, to Second and on toward Partition. It was raining, I didn't have an umbrella, Joey and I were getting soaked to the skin, but I wanted to give the skunk plenty of time to get settled someplace off the street before we returned, so we continued on to Union Street.
Wet and unhappy, we turned back at Union Street and headed home, but when we got to Allen Street, there was the skunk (or was it a second skunk?) snuffling around the gate beside our house. Back we went to Second Street, hoping to give the skunk plenty of time to slip under the gate and disappear.
This time, we went only as far as Partition Street before heading back, but when we approached our house, from the opposite side of the street, I saw the skunk again (or was it a third skunk?) lurking in front of our next door neighbor's house.
Once again we retreated back to Second Street, but this time we went from Second to Partition, headed east on Partition to Cross Alley, and approached our house from the east. Finally, thoroughly wet and miserable, my dog and I were at last able to regain the comfort of home while avoiding a skunk encounter."Micropolitan Diary" is Gossips' homage to and blatant imitation of "Metropolitan Diary" in the New York Times. The term micropolitan was coined (by Gossips) because Hudson is a metropolis in microcosm.
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It's unlikely that Joey would have triggered the skunk's defense mechanism by barking from across the street. Skunks respond defensively to an aggressive physical encounter at close range, but absent that, they are docile--and easily tamed--creatures. I have passed within five feet of a skunk in my backyard, slowly and calmly, making sure it knew I was there, and have not been sprayed.
ReplyDeleteI would like to speak in defense of the poor, beleaguered skunk by quoting The Audubon Nature Encyclopedia, a beloved resource from my youth: "Few persons appreciate the great service [the skunk] renders our farms and gardens every day as it goes about its business of eating. The skunk is a capacious mousetrap. The farmer is wise who encourages these animals to hunt mice in his barn by setting out an enticing saucer or two of milk for the skunks to find as they prowl about after dark. Insects also form a large part of their diet....Many plants are spared destruction by insects as the result of the nocturnal feeding of a family of skunks....It was because of their usefulness as consumers of insects that are destructive to hops plants that skunks became the first furbearers in New York State to win legislation for their protection." The skunk is in fact "an exceptionally clean little animal" that "ordinarily has no odor about it at all" and that sprays "only in self-defense and even then the skunk obligingly gives ample warning of its intentions."
So let's celebrate this "amusing and valuable neighbor" for the beneficial services it provides, and forgive it for its unpleasant but nonviolent means of defense.
Great response Rachel.
ReplyDeleteNicely done Rachel, thanks.
ReplyDeleteApproaching Promenade Hill last night to watch the fireworks (which appeared at no fewer than five locations, and went on and on and on), I noted the distinct odor of one Monsieur Le Pew. Well, perhaps Madame. Or Mademoiselle.
ReplyDeleteNow there is a fox frequenting Rossman Ave. A small one, with bedragelled fur.....I've seen he/she three times in the past week at dusk.
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