dhogaza
Posts: 525
Joined: Feb. 2006
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OK, skunk story, you've asked for it ...
So for many years I used to spend a month or two or more trapping and banding hawks, and doing migration counts, at sites in Utah and Nevada. Mostly at 9,000 feet on a beautiful mountain in Nevada, backpacking situation, though with beginning-of-the-year helicopter logistical support (water, food, etc).
I'd always bring an old rocking chair to provide a more comfortable alternative to the plain wooden benches in our communal mess/office/equipment repair/hangout tent. An old army surplus command post tent.
Anyway ... one year, we had a skunk hanging out most nights, enjoying the companionship, warmth from the pot-bellied stove (9,000 feet in the Great Basin in September/October often means temps cold enough to freeze your water bottle by morning), and I suppose in hopes of crumbs of food on the dirt floor.
One evening, our cook, exhausted from a day that had started at 6:00 AM cooking breakfast, was relaxing by the pot-bellied stove gently rocking in my rocking chair, half-asleep, as the rest of us talked etc.
The skunk came up ... began rubbing her leg, like a cat ... the rest of us watched intently ... the cook, eyes closed, began petting the skunk, rocking gently ... petting ... skunk rubbing her leg with its body ... petting ... then ... suddenly.
SHRIEK!!!!!!!!
She realized what she was petting.
She leapt out of the chair to the far side of the tent ... the skunk scurried from the tent full-speed ... the rest of us laughed our ass off.
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