It’s That Season

February 1, 2024

It’s That Season

We have to take our dog out in the middle of the night because she is getting older. Like us. You know, so she doesn’t leak.

The other day I took her out behind the house about 2:45 a.m. and was breathing in the lovely night air, looking for my favorite stars, waiting for Velvet to squat (she drags out her excursion awhile, surveying the countryside with me).

All of a sudden she dashes across the driveway, out into the front yard in hot pursuit of something, maybe a deer. We generally praise her for her deer runs: she gets good exercise and fun, and during summer, it keeps deer mostly away from our garden.

That morning I turned to see that there was a small creature about six feet away from her. I figured it was a rabbit and quickly turned on my flashlight, And froze.

Velvet was glaring at a skunk, a large one at that, likely male, standing stock-still facing the dog. I panicked thinking the skunk had already sprayed her. My heart sunk. A sprayed dog, in the middle of the night. Would we have to both get up and give her a bath, or let her smell up the house or basement? Already I dreaded the drama.

This is skunk season of course, we’ve seen numerous skunks on our country roads, flattened out and dead. The groundhog may come out on February 2 but I found this interesting analysis on Scienceing.com:

“Milder winter will bring out males in early February. Harsher winter may postpone the emergence of males a few weeks toward March. Yearling female skunks that were born during the last year will not be ready to mate in February; yearlings wait until March or April before they will accept a mate. Females who are not interested in mating will spray the male to let him know to get away.”

We get skunks occasionally in our garden in summer, grabbing our goodies. One year my husband decided to buy a no-kill trap to catch one. Tricky business, because of course what do you do with the guy after you trap him (or her). Our dear neighbor, in his 90s, gave Stuart this piece of advice: “Whatever you do, approach one very slowly in the cage, backing up, and he might not spray you.” We lucked out and my husband was able to open the door, slowly backed away, and left the skunk alone, who later in the day had vacated the trap. Yay! Thank goodness for wise older neighbors who know these things.

On my morning potty escapade with the dog, I quickly called Velvet to come, which she did, and I could detect no nasty smell or spray on dear Velvet. My thanks ascended to the God of the skies and earth for this small favor. No middle of the night bath for the dog, or for us. I praised and petted our mature pup (going on nine years) for finally learning this lesson. This time. There is no guarantee about next time. I have learned over the years when skunk season began, to make a raucous noise of some kind when we come out of the garage in the morning or night so the skunk has a chance to run away without spraying the dog.

Your science hint for the day!