The Whole Thing Stinks...

by Libby Hellmann


There are signs of spring on the North Shore of Chicago: the cold is loosening its grip, the sun has returned, the crocuses are poking up, and the air is scented with…

The stink of skunks.

Those of you who live up here know there has been a population explosion of skunks over the past few years. There is nowhere you can go up here without breathing in skunk spray. Or seeing one in the road. Or hearing about the travails of home owners whose decks and stoops have been infested and their pets skunked. (You’re about to get an earful from me).

But here’s the thing. No one in authority is talking about this. There is a conspiracy of silence where skunks are concerned. It’s a massive cover-up. I suppose I understand… What would happen to the tony North Shore if it were known to be overrun with skunks? What would happen to home sales? Property values? Taxes? It gets even stranger. Several years ago there was a concerted community response when an overpopulation of deer threatened the day lilies and gardens of North Shore property owners. Despite protests from animal lovers, the deer were quickly culled. Shot. End of problem. So, why no response to the skunks, who are a lot more destructive than little Bambi?

This should be a no-brainer. But it isn’t.

Which means we who are afflicted must act on our own. And I have. I am waging war. No namby-pamby avoidance tricks like red pepper flakes or coyote urine for me. I am so sick (and nauseated) by the situation that nothing less than a full frontal assault will do. I am taking back my deck. And the air. I called the trapper.

He came armed with a trap and set it up just outside the entrance to the den. He promised it wouldn’t be hard to trap them; February and March are mating season so the only bait you need is a female.

Btw, I now know more about skunks habits and habitats than I ever wanted to. For example, did you know they rotate between dens? Like terrorists who sleep in a different place every night, so do skunks. And did you know that, contrary to popular belief, skunks do not ONLY spray when threatened? When a female wants to reject a male, she sprays. When two males are fighting over a female, they spray. And they have. Many times. Under my deck. Turns out my deck has been a frigging brothel.

So, we set the trap. Nothing happened for a couple of days. Then one night, I was awakened around 2 AM by – what else – the stink of skunk. When it penetrates into the house, btw, it’s impossible to sleep. Sure enough, next morning we had trapped a female skunk. (You can just see her in the trap)

Two days later, we caught another one. This one at least had the courtesy not to spray until dawn. The stink is still working its way out.

There have been no more for the past few days and I’m about to permanently board up the last entrance to the den. But it’s too soon to claim victory – my neighbors are still harboring the creatures, and skunks like to reclaim familiar territory.

I will keep you posted.

And yes, the trapper euthanizes them. For all you animal lovers who think skunks should be relocated to live out their demented lives in peace, I invite you over to my place for a couple of days. You take a whiff, then decide what course of action to take. Actually, I think I ought to invite Pat Quinn, Mark Kirk, Dan Seales, and all the village executives over for drinks, too. Then maybe we'll get somewhere.

What do you think?



P.S. On a totally different subject, if you're a writer, you really need to read this essay by Lev Raphael. It spoke to me. I hope it does to you, too.

Ready to Commit Murder

by Libby Hellmann

Ah, the joys of summer: bright sunshine, soft breezes, flowers, steaks on the grill...

And skunks.

Some of you already know about my ongoing trials with these creatures. Well, at this point, they’re winning. And I’ve had it. It’s war.

I live on the North Shore of Chicago not far from the forest preserve. I’ve gotten used to the deer eating my day lilies (and pooping on the lawn), the raccoons tipping over the garbage cans, even the occasional fox strolling across the yard. Live and let live, right?

No more.

It started about three years ago when our wonderful Beagle, Shiloh, was still with us. Unfortunately, Shiloh thought everyone was his friend, and that included rodents and varmints. The upshot was that he got skunked in our back yard, not once but three times. The first time I rushed him to the vet, but they wouldn’t take him. Instead, they told me about the peroxide-baking soda-dishwashing liquid mix (tomato juice definitely does NOT work), and I raced to the drug store to take care of the poor guy. Shiloh hates baths, but he had a good one that night. Of course, the stench stayed in my car for days – even a once-over with the mixture and at least two bottles of Febreze didn’t do much.

About a month later, it happened again. This time I was ready. I locked Shiloh in the garage, had the solution ready in a jiffy, and we went through the process again. It happened a third time before the end of that summer (I never said Beagles were smart). I remember being thankful when cold weather came.

Fast forward to the following spring. It’s about five in the morning, and I’m having a nightmare about a disgusting odor that just won’t go away. I wake up to discover it’s no dream. The odor is in my house, and it’s skunk spray. I jump out of bed, tear through the house, and find out that skunks are mating under my deck, and one of them just had to spray into the window-well where the stink penetrated into the basement.

This time it took two weeks and several trips to the store get a special enzyme-y thing that was supposed to break up the skunk-spray molecules but didn’t really work. Not to mention the traps that Animal Control set. Naturally, they didn’t catch the skunk -- Turns out they’re pretty smart, at least smart enough not to crawl into a cage for bait. But I did catch two lovely raccoons.

The last straw came a couple of nights ago. A skunk came to my front door, sprayed, and then pranced off into the night. The stench penetrated inside in a minute. I swear it was a deliberate provocation. That skunk was singling me out. I know it.

I’m convinced that there’s a skunk population explosion on the North Shore and the authorities are covering it up, because they know the citizenry would rise up in arms if they knew how many of these creatures are actually roaming around. It’s clearly a conspiracy. And what the authorities aren’t covering up, the skunks themselves are perpetrating. Because they can. They’re trying to take over the world, one forest preserve at a time.

But I won’t let them. I’m done playing defense. It’s war. I have my Illinois FOID card and I’m going to the gun range for target practice. Before I do, though, I’ll open it up for one last round of suggestions.

How do you stop a skunk dead in its tracks?