Feel free to laugh at this one. It's ok, really.

 It was going to be just another Saturday. For a change it was going to be nice out, sunny, not too windy, and around 65. Being a weekend day, Doc would be doing the animal chores to give me a break. But on this Saturday, he had a Boy Scout meeting that would take all day, and would be gone. So chores fell to me by default, as I would be the only one with thumbs.

I got up with the sun, washed my face,  pulled my hair up, set up the coffee machine and put my frozen block of oatmeal to thaw in the microwave. The dog got her  quick morning trip outside and her morning medicine, stashed stealthily in a mini-marshmallow, and her dental bone. I dragged my half asleep self down the stairs and slipped on my flip flops and staggered out to the workshop. I filled a 5 gallon bucket with fresh water for the hens, and then topped of their scoops of scratch and feed. I loaded up and wandered down to the hen house, listening to the early morning song birds in the trees, enjoying the smell of the fresh earth, and giggling at the excited chatter of the hens who heard me coming with breakfast. 

When I left the coop, I noticed all the alpacas in the corral lounging in the early morning sun, clearly they decided to sleep in the great outdoors. It was not at all surprising as the night had been relatively mild and lounging in the morning sun was one of their favorite pastimes. It was right up their on their favorites list with lounging in the pasture, sleeping in the field, and lounging in the barn. 

I caught an ever so faint musky odor as I came around the end of the barn towards the human door that accesses the barn.  That too was not unusual. Nocturnal wanderers were now out in full force, hungry bellies looking to be filled, springtime urges to find a mate, and just escaping a den full of newborns are all valid reasons for the parade of things that go bump in the night here and set off the motion cameras.  We've seen/heard them all: bobcats, deer, coyotes, cats, skunks, mice, rats, owls, opossums, fox, raccoons, mink- all things that sneak about, and all have a musky, magical odor. Hey, who wouldn't after sleeping all winter in a hole wearing a fur coat. The stink was very faint, and was probably left over from a recent walk through. 

When I got into the barn I put my now empty chicken water bucket down on the floor, the empty scoops inside, and called out to the alpacas to get them to at least think about getting on their feet for breakfast. Oh who am I kidding? I wasn't moving them, but at least calling out to them let them know I was in the barn and was putting out their breakfast, which they could then access at their leisure. 

I picked up their feed pail to fill at the feed buckets (we mix our own feed), and placed it on the shelf so I could spin open the lids to the alfalfa and alpaca pellets. I opened the first bin and tossed the lid on top of the bin. Then I heard a faint rustling....behind me. 

Now behind me, along the wall, is a large rubbermade trunk, the kind you store kids toys, or patio furniture in. We use this trunk to hold extra bags of animal feed to deter the mice. Today it was empty as Doc fills it on Saturdays, but he wasn't home.  Beside that was an empty feedbag that we were using as a trash bag. The window above and the main barn door were open, so I figured a slight breeze caught it and rustled the bag. Not giving it another thought, I opened the next bin and tossed the lid on top. I scooped out two measures of alfalfa into the feed pail and hear the rustling again. This time it was different.

This wasn't the sound of a bag scraping the wall in the wind. This was the sound of tiny claws on poly bag. I was not alone in the barn. I put the feel pail on the floor, and turned to face the trunk. Was it IN the trunk? The lid is easy to open and I'm sure the inside of the trunk smells fantastic. Had something burrowed under the bag, and under the trunk? The kick board base of the barn does need new stone there, something could have easily entered the barn from the outside at that spot. Was it IN the bag? Had something smelled the sweet feed remains in the bag, climbed on the trunk and then fallen in the bag and been unable to scale the slick bag to get out? We saw that a lot with mice in the workshop. Sad little things stuck in open bins and buckets. Was it BEHIND the trunk? Doc kept the trunk about 6 inches from the wall, so the lid would stay propped open when he used it. Come to think of it, I HAD seen droppings in the past, during Mulberry season, but that was months away and ago, in May.

Out of branches to explore on my tree of reason, I slowly picked up the trash bag, paying attention to the weight and if I felt any extra movement that was not mine or any more noise from it. Nothing. I placed the bag behind me out of the way in case my next action was to have to beat a hasty retreat. I didn't want it to become a slapstick comedy moment with me running to escape some horrible beast only to trip on a feed bag and konk my head on a steel door to then be eaten by said beast. Heck, I was already one step away from it being a 1950s horror film, just replace high heels with flip flops and I was the girl that was going to loose a shoe and be eaten by the monster. I reached out and put one hand on the window sill to brace myself so I could lean far over the trunk without touching it. 

There it was curled up about about the size of a football, just below the window and behind the trunk, a 'not a kitty'.  That's our kind way of saying skunk here. Without your glasses or in the dark or dusk, they look like a cat until you get that flash of white. Nope, not a kitty. Well great. I can't have that in here. If I let the hens out, they'll for sure disturb it and OH that will be fabulous. A coop full of smelly chickens,

like they smell of roses to start with. And if the alpacas startled it while exiting in the evening, that would be horrific on fleece two months from shearing, not that they smell grand to start with either, but stale popcorn is far preferable to skunk scented stale popcorn.  Nope, kitty would have to go. As Cary Grant in I Was A Male War Bride often heard after stating that he was traveling en route under Public Law #271 of the Congress, "Look buddy, I don't know where you're going to stay, but you can't stay here."

I opened all the doors in every direction. He was free to go. There were hundreds of acres literally across the fence full of holes and trees, and nooks and crannies for him to live in, but he had to go. I moved the trunk ever so gently further from the wall, no matter which way he looked when he opened his eyes he could easily see freedom. I gently nudged him with the end of the push broom. After all, while it was now my 8am, it was 3am in his world, How would I like it if someone loudly and forcefully shoved a broom in my side? 

He roused and looked around. (Dang it, they're so cute.) Then he tucked his little head back in his tail and headed back of to the Land of Nod. OH NO you don't. Another gentle nudge with the fuzzy end of the broom, and before he could re-tuck, another. Now he was awake, but not annoyed. But he also wasn't trying to go anywhere, nor was he hissing or anything. I am now 30 minutes past food and coffee, but priorities.

I kept poking with my broom trying to get him to move from his spot. He'd have nothing to do with it. I moved the trunk further from the wall thus removing his security blanket. This unsettled him some and with the next nudge of the broom, he let me know how much so. He unleashed all the fury that a small beast carrying a loaded bio weapon can, straight up the wall and the back of the trunk. Luckily this wasn't my first rodeo and I made sure the angles were all in my favor and I had some barriers between me and the loaded end. But aerosols being what they are, and being that there was an open window in this adventure, the gentle morning breeze ya. While I didn't get sprayed, I certainly got a lung and snoot full. There's a powerful stink. It's been a while since I've been that close to a fresh spray. What you smell at home when they walk by or when you pass a dead one on the road is NOTHING compared to ground zero at drop. 

It's a good thing I hadn't eaten yet. That little booger cleared my sinus', my lungs, and my stomach. I turned on the large overhead barn fans and the great north door to air the barn out. Each time I entered the barn I was gifted another lung full of 'country fresh', and each time would send me back out to lean over the fence and contemplate my life choices and nice condo on the beach in Florida. Each time I was done inspecting the fence, I'd glance over to the attentive alpacas, cushed in sun, chewing their cud and looking at me as if to say ' stinks doesn't he? It's why we slept outside. Plus. he snores.' Alpacas, pfft.

Now all of this airing out of the barn and checking the fence took well over 10 minutes. And at NO point did I bother the skunk again. SO I went back over to see if he had left. Nope, curled up behind the trunk again. Well that's not right. I know he sprayed the wall 3 times, but they can go up to 8 before they "run out".  I lifted the trunk slowly and through the corral door, hearing Dirty Harry in my head, keeping it between me and Pepe LePew. Once outside, I tossed it in the corner of the corral. The alpacas, now downwind of the freshly ordorized trunk, felt the need to leave the corral for the lower pasture. Cowards. 

As I walked back to the barn I saw the skunk waddle across the breezeway and under the steel feed shelf. NOOOOO! He had 4 wide open giant paths to the outdoors and he chose to squeeze under the 200 pound shelving unit, loaded down with barn supplies, ironic some of which were the animal traps. While I unloaded the shelves and piled everything outside i could hear him digging. There was only two ways this could go, under the barn wall to outside, or into the hay bay on the other side of the wall, which if he dug down would put him UNDER the rubber flooring. I had to move MUCH faster. I couldn't quite reach him in his far corner, even with the shelving panels removed, and it's not like I'm going to grab a skunk by the tail. So I tied the end of my tree trimming pole with a slip knot and put it around his tail and managed to get a back leg. I'm literally pulling a skunk out of a hole using a ten foot pole, when with one final push, he was under the wall. At this point, I have no idea if he has gone under the steel wall frame and under the hay, or under the gravel and under the rubber floor. And there was only one way to find out.

I won't lie. I swore. Loudly. Angus looked up at me from the pasture in disapproval, and then went back to beheading clovers. In frustration I tossed my pole into the yard. I had managed to touch something with spray on it, so now I wanted to divorce my own left hand. However I would need it for my next task. I needed to move 8, large, hardwood pallets, a feed bunk, bags of bedding pellets, 8 steel fencing panels, and sigh, 35 bales of stacked hay, all within inches of a skunk that was hidden among any of it. I would have cried if it hadn't become a comedy of errors with a sound track of 80s rock blaring in the background from the alpaca's radio. (Yes, they have a radio.)

Item after item, bale after bale, I moved everything neatly and methodically into the center of the barn. I just needed to find the skunk and get him out. The fewer the steps the better, keeping in mind that all of it had to go BACK into the bay eventually. I could smell him, but I couldn't FIND him. I became increasingly worried when I got down to the last stack of hay bales that he had gone into a hitherto unknown den under the flooring. Bale after bale was removed, getting closer to the pallet that kept it dry and up off the floor.  I pulled off the last bale slowly, hoping he would be there and hoping he wasn't. (Schrodinger's skunk, ha!) As I peeled back the last bale, there he was, asleep in the corner of the pallet.

I went to the hen house and grabbed a piece of plywood from a recent nest box renovation and snapped up the 5 gallon bucket I had used for the chicken water. My plan was to have this handy to trap him under the bucket and then slide the wood under the bucket and transfer him to the field next door. I grabbed hold of the pallet and slowly lifted it away from him and backed away. He kept sleeping. Man, I don't know what kind of party this critter managed the night before, but he was some sleeper. Then I started to think he maybe wasn't right, and was even more adamant on getting him away from my barn. I placed the pallet on the stack of other pallets in the center of the barn. Then I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. Just a flash of black and white as it slid back under the wall towards the shelf side again. Really? Really ? Oh there's a door right there, maybe he'll run out it. Of course not.

He's back under the shelf again. I tried to get him to go out of the door. He'd have none of it. I tried to get him to go out the barn door. That didn't suit him either. Back under the wall he went, but this time he seemed rather surprised that there was nothing to hide under, just a giant open bay. But then, and I swear I heard him sigh in relief, he spotted my giant pile of hay and equipment in the middle of the barn and off he went. Now let me just let you know right now, in case you didn't know, a skunk moves far faster than a 50 year old woman in flip flops.  There was no way I could cut him off of steer him towards a door with my piece of plywood. I would also like to let you know that while bales of hay LOOK rectangular, they are in fact, not quite, and I did not pack them high or tightly as I had no foresight that an insane, psychopathic, skunk, hellbent on ruining my quiet Saturday morning was going to use them as his personal corn maze to avoid being sent outside.

I won't lie, I swore a little more. As he maneuvered through the bales I could hear him. My goal was to just get him OUT. So as I moved a bale I stacked them higher and higher, until I couldn't throw them any higher (these are NOT light by the way). I made a chute at one point with pallets and bales, and found that Mr Sleepy head excelled at turning himself into a noodle and at the Olympic high jump. At one point, he zigged when he should have zagged and he ended up running into the open hay bay again, the hole under the wall now plugged with an empty feed bag. I had the bucket in hand and had him cornered, which is exactly what you NEVER want to do with any animal, but especially a skunk. He couldn't keep his eye on me though AND keep me in the cross hairs. So each time he slowly turned to aim, I froze. He'd relax and turn around and look for an escape. I'd shift the bucket closer. He'd turn. I'd freeze. After about 5 minutes, I just went for it. DOWN came the bucket, and under went the plywood, and off we went for a long walk to the neighboring fields. I do not think he'll be back. I'm not sure he was well. 

I closed the people doors to the barn and left the main doors open to air the place out. I blocked off the wet spray area and let the chickens out for the day. I stumbled up to the house and was greeted by a very enthusiastic beagle who wanted to not only know WHERE I had been, but what I had rolled in, and could she roll in it too.  I took her outside before heading to a much needed shower as the microwave called out that my oatmeal breakfast was done and where was I?(It's beeps once a minute when the cooking cycle is complete until you clear it or open the door.) After three hours, even the Keurig had given up on me and went back to sleep. Oh you lucky appliance.

After my shower, I scrubbed my hand down with a concoction that was developed here at UNL for skunk spray so that I didn't have to remove my own hand. My cell phone case wasn't salvageable, so that went in the trash. I skipped the oatmeal and went right for lunch, before going out to tackle putting the barn back together and spraying down the wall.

And yes, Doc had a nice quiet day down at Scout Camp, but I hear Boy Scouts can be stinky too.