Skunks: 5
Hairy Beasts: 0

There are definite advantages to growing up a farm kid. Learning to drive at age 7 because someone’s gotta drive the truck to get the hay off the field and put up. Mastering power tools like the chop saw and chain saw. Building your own trellis. Knowing the difference between a finishing nail and a galvanized one. Pressure washers!!! (I have 3.)

There are definite disadvantages as well. Like the weather not cooperating so haying season always manages to land over the 4th of July holiday. Like the myriad of mundane maintenance required to keep equipment in good working order. Like wild blackberry bushes that grow everywhere you don’t want them.

And skunks.

I’m not a fan.

These four years, our two mobile security units, otherwise known as The Hairy Beasts (or Farm Dog and Fuzzy Butt), have started strong, but in the end lost the annual competition.

Now The Hairy Beasts are brilliant at knowing something has breached the perimeter. They know every inch of their property, and everything that belongs. Ever vigilant (they take the job very seriously), one or both or either will raise a ruckus at the first sign something is out of place. Sesame Street would be proud.

These are not the skunks that participate in the annual Intruder Games. *Those* skunks are much more … not cute.

The first year, a skunk made it all the way to the sequoia by the pump house. This is in the far corner of the back yard. The back yard, people. Like 50 feet from the house. Farm Dog backed the black-and-white up to the tree. Skunk was big, maybe 10 pounds. And not happy. Do skunks know they are being profiled and proactively discriminated against? At any rate, Skunk #1 was quick for his size and squeezed off a warning shot across Farm Dog’s bow, so-to-speak, all the while somehow keeping his back up against the tree trunk.

Did I mention this was around 10 pm?

Oh, free tip of the day: tomato juice doesn’t cut skunk smell. Ketchup doesn’t work either.

I know–I’ve tried.

Farm Dog confronted Skunks #2 and #3 at the north border crossing. Technically, he won each round–their entry visas were not approved, but once again, each expressed displeasure over the conversation and managed to get in the last word (or spray. whatever).

Technically, I should give Farm Dog 1/2 a point for #3. He managed to “corner” it in the culvert. Where it got stuck. Yay. A stuck skunk. Guess what? That stuck skunk stunk. Only humane thing to do was shoot it. Then proceed to tear out the culvert (originally placed three years prior, it had a great cover of grass growing over), remove said stuck skunk, and replace the culvert. Since the two-legged had to do all the work, the four-legged doesn’t get his 1/2 point.

More free trivia: apparently, electric fences don’t phase skunks. The first hot wire is 4″ off the ground along that back fence line. How exactly they know to duck still baffles me.

We think Ghost Skunk got hit by a car and managed somehow to haul himself a good 500 yards into the field before succumbing to his injuries. It remains a mystery where he came from, how long he lay there, and the ultimate cause of death. Forensics never got a chance to review the case. Fuzzy Butt was the first to notice something amiss in that section of the field.  All I will say is that skunks and mowers … it wasn’t pretty … And yes, Ghost Skunk still stunk.

Skunk #4 tried a stealth approach from the south. Fuzzy Butt sounded the alarm, and Farm Dog went to red alert and set off to locate and identify the intruder.

Now, the Hairy Beasts bark. That’s what dogs do. Sometimes I think they bark just because they can. I’m certain a few of the neighbors dogs bark just because they can. So, it’s not out of the ordinary to hear a woof or two at random hours. And what I dread every year happened earlier this week: random woofing wafting in the open window on the evening breeze. Followed in the next instant by that smell.

I’ve decided that SKNK is a four-letter word. Cheeky little critter was using the motorcycle trailer behind the barn as cover. And he was digging in. And I don’t have a pole long enough to use as a poker safely from outside the spray radius.

Not only is Farm Dog color-blind, but he believes in confronting a problem head-on. So obviously he HAD to tell #4 the Farm Rules from less than 2 feet away. It’s hard to praise him for doing his job so well when he smells so bad.

Where’s the Pollyanna Perspective in all of this, you wonder? I’ve discovered two stink-be-gone recipes that don’t work. And at least one that does. One part dish soap, one part hydrogen peroxide, two parts baking soda. It dries a little crusty, but it’s effective!

That, and one item to add to the proverbial list of certainty: death, taxes, and skunks carrying the day.