In my post of a couple of days ago, I shared the Sure Signs of Spring that I've noticed. And today, I noticed another Sure Sign of Spring, which is the de-stink-tive aroma of skunk in the air.
As preface to this story, all I can say is, thank goodness Keeta has only downed dead squirrel (to my horror and disgust, by the way). Anyway, I'm happy to report that she has never tried dead skunk, and I hope to keep it that way.
NT sent this article to me today, and I knew that this would be the perfect place to share it. It appeared recently in the Manitoulin Recorder, a small community paper from the Manitoulin Island. I don't know who wrote it, but perhaps if NT still has the article, he could share, or maybe the author chose to be Anonymous*.
Not to change the subject completely, but has anyone ever experienced the joy one gets when their dog eats a dead skunk?
We recently found out just what a truly remarkable event this can be in one's life. We can only assume that the poor dog didn't realize she was eating not only a skunk carcass, but also the intact musk gland.
In the interest of clarity, it should be pointed out that dogs are apparently incapable of digesting musk glands. These noxious nodes seem to make their way through a dog's digestive system until they reach a point where they can begin to function as nature intended.
Unfortunately nature never intended for this function to occur in an enclosed bedroom... repeatedly... all night. If only there was some way we could have captured the essence of the sweet nocturnal emissions that we were treated to, then people could understand the suffering that was ours for a night.
Quick word of advice, never ever let your dogs dine on skunk, or if they do, make sure they sleep in the kids' room for the night.
*I can only imagine that after a night of basking in the musky scent of skunk, the author of that article would certainly be well known around town, and have many offers of tomato juice... and not for the purpose of drinking!
Contributed by Jamie Naessens
This story is from the Garden Column in the Manitoulin Recorder, March 14, by Ted Smith.
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