Collateral stinkage.

Yesterday morning I was walking the dog when we came upon the scene of an attack. It was dark, and we were walking the Big Loop, which as its name implies is a long street that leads us back to the street that takes us home. We were at about the halfway point when the evidence of a violent encounter became clear. 

When I say "violent encounter" I mean probably no one got physically hurt, but I'll bet something got a full-frontal skunk blast. 

I've been in cars and buses and on trains when we've passed the scene of a skunk run-over or a skunk attack, and the odor hanging in the air is a shock, but quickly gone -- although never as quickly as you might expect. It clings. Here it clung and how. There was no evidence of a skunk vs. car situation, so I suspect a critter decided to tangle with a skunk and lived to regrets its decision. The farther we walked into the cloud, the stronger it got; it would ease up a little due to that wonderful invention called olfactory fatigue, and then incredibly it would return, stronger and stronger, when you wouldn't think it possible. I expected to be able to see it, like mustard gas in a World War I movie. 

Eyes watering, we persevered. It seemed to go on for a good half mile. Hard to tell because of the curve of the sidewalk. There was no breeze blowing, though, so that cloud of punk just sat there. Whatever riled up the skunk got both barrels.

Don't look so flipping innocent.

I have nothing against skunks, really. They eat bugs, which I endorse -- not for me, but for other mammals and for reptiles. (Eat all the bugs!) And they have a unique self-defense mechanism. Everything is entitled to try to defend itself. Like porcupines, they only have one trick, but it's a winner.

The skunk can shoot its little anal weapon about ten to fifteen feet, and the speed at which it deploys is astonishing. Mental Floss says "Aside from the offensive smell that lingers for days (or even weeks), the spray is intensely irritating and can cause temporary blindness in anyone unfortunate enough to get caught in the stream. Even if you're nowhere near the scene of the spray, you could still suffer the unpleasant consequences: People can detect the scent from up to a mile downwind." When Tralfaz got skunked years ago, it did take weeks to get the lingering funk off him. He'd gotten shot right in the mouth, and you could smell it on his breath the whole time, like he'd been drinking Skunk Vodka.

Weiler Woods for Wildlife tells us that the skunk has pretty damn good aim with the spray thanks to nipple-like protrusions on each anal gland. (That's like having a heat-seeking hand grenade -- which is to say, accuracy is not super important but still improves effectiveness.) They can shoot up to six times, like an old Colt revolver, except it takes them even longer to reload -- about 10 to 14 days. 

Fortunately, baby dog Izzy has not been so unwise as to challenge the local skunks so far, or any other wildlife. I hope our schlep through the cloud of doom convinced him that whatever made that odor is not to be trifled with. Meanwhile, if it wasn't a bear, fox, coyote, or bobcat that got the skunk treatment yesterday, then someone's house cat had a rude surprise for its owners in the morning. 

🦨🦨🦨

P.S.: This may seem like a strange topic for Valentine's Day, but remember the words of that great social philosopher Peter Wolf, "Love Stinks."