After the Loop Road crosses Abrams Creek near the western end of the Cove, there is a gravel turnoff to the right for the Abrams Falls trailhead. There is a slope to the right which for several years was affectionately referred to as Skunk Hill. Quite often near dusk, skunks waddled around on this hill as we drove through the Cove on the lookout for wildlife.
We decided to stop and walk around on the hill to search for possible holes they would use as burrows. Before the thought crosses your mind that we were crazy to be in search of skunk homes, keep in mind it was mid-afternoon. From everything we had read and heard, skunks were nocturnal. They would definitely not be out with the sun high overhead.
My memory fails me as to why, but my mom elected to stay by the car. So, my dad, sister, and I set off into the calf-high grass armed with cameras and binoculars. It seems we never went anywhere in the mountains without them.
Near the top of the small hill, we found a hole about a foot in diameter. There could have been more, but this was the first one we came across. At close inspection, this could indeed be the entrance to a burrow. The grass around the hole showed signs of being worn recently and claw marks could be seen around the edges. The difficult part to assess was whether or not the resident was a skunk. We could not be exactly sure.
An adventurous young boy, I poked at the hole and threw things in it. My sister inferred I would be the cause to get us all “skunked”. My dad chastised me for my actions, told me to “cease and desist”, and reminded me wildlife should not be harassed. He also repeated the fact that skunks did not come out in daylight hours. We had naught to worry about. Or did we ?
As we admired the scenery, sudden movement in our peripheral vision jerked our attention back to the ground near our feet. We were startled to see a dark nose at the edge of sight in the hole. Moments later, a dark head appeared with eyes black as coal. Temporarily frozen in place, we realized the head was not just dark. It was black and we could see the start of a white stripe behind the ears.
“SKUNK !!!!!!”
I am not sure if any of us actually screamed this word, but it reverberated in my own mind. A brief pause of shock was followed by simultaneous action as we ran and stumbled back down the slope. I remember one backward glance which in which the skunk seemed to bound along behind us. My imagination gave the little mammal the speed of a cheetah I knew he would be upon us at any moment. I dreaded the awful smell I was sure would permeate around us.
Back at the car, my mom thought it was quite comical. The three of us ran like a mountain lion was after us, but the only thing she saw was a little black mass in the grass. If its intent was to chase us, it definitely gained no ground. It dawned on her what it was and the humor of the situation sank in. We were run off the hill by a skunk. We burst onto the gravel and she insisted we stop right where we were. She feared we had already been sprayed, but we assured her that was not the case.
Breathless, we looked back up the hill. The skunk was now wandered aimlessly around. Other things had attracted his attention and we were completely forgotten. From that point on, we never took the wild for granted. Even in the wilderness, there are exceptions to the rule.
Excerpt from Under the Smoke
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