I never looked for trouble hunting skunks but did I ever tell you about the time we were baleing hay and baled a skunk? Even had it stacked on the hay wagon before we noticed it was indeed very much still alive. Well my uncle was driving the tractor and us kids of course were doing all the stacking, and as frugal, (did I say cheap), as old Uncle Clint was, he wanted to save the load of hay and he also wanted to even save that bale. Us kids working on the hay wagon would not touch it nor would we get back on the 3/4 loaded wagon either to get to one very ticked off critter off the top course, So here comes my uncle after jumping off the tractor telling us all move out of the way. Boy that was an understatement, we were not even within 4 rods of that wagon before he knocked it off the top and the smell blasted us. Needless to say, he lost that bale and half a dozen others stacked close by and most of his impressed crew for the rest of the day too.

Ever hear the saying "Paybacks are HEdoubleLL"?

More years back than I care to remember, my family lived 'way back in the mountains of southcentral New Mexico. We kids had to manufacture our own entertainment - no power, running water (except the creek) or indoor plumbing.

My older brother and a group of like youths of his age had a running battle ongoing with a croutchity old hermit that lived back in a remote canyon that had an old abandoned logging road in it. Anytime the young gang came anywhere near he had a tendency to run outdoors with a double barrel and threaten to blow them "to smitherins".

One day while he had parked his old Model "T" at the sawmill commissary for groceries, my brother's bunch had managed to kill a spotted skunk and remove the scent glands without damage. They lifted the motor hood and placed them on the soft cast iron block in a spark plug well, lowered the hood and then skedaddled.

The old man got about half way home when he stopped, got out and looked all around under his high slung vehicle. Finding nothing he proceeded on down the road, then did the same stopping and looking. This went one until he got home and lifted the motor hood and evidently discovered the, by now, well fried remains of the scent glands.

He knew immediately which rascals to blame and came back to the sawmill camp with mayhem in mind. Trouble was, that ol' Model "T" stunk so bad people could smell it before seeing it! A bunch of hangers-on at the commissary (had a bar in it, too) porch laughed so hard over it the old man couldn't make himself heard when asking where the scamps were. He was quite a sight standing out in front of the store, red faced, stomping up dust and his "T" just idling there, stinking up a storm!

Took a long time before that smell didn't announce his arrival before being seen or heard!

Ever hear the saying "Paybacks are HEdoubleLL"?

More years back than I care to remember, my family lived 'way back in the mountains of southcentral New Mexico. We kids had to manufacture our own entertainment - no power, running water (except the creek) or indoor plumbing.

My older brother and a group of like youths of his age had a running battle ongoing with a croutchity old hermit that lived back in a remote canyon that had an old abandoned logging road in it. Anytime the young gang came anywhere near he had a tendency to run outdoors with a double barrel and threaten to blow them "to smitherins".

One day while he had parked his old Model "T" at the sawmill commissary for groceries, my brother's bunch had managed to kill a spotted skunk and remove the scent glands without damage. They lifted the motor hood and placed them on the soft cast iron block in a spark plug well, lowered the hood and then skedaddled.

The old man got about half way home when he stopped, got out and looked all around under his high slung vehicle. Finding nothing he proceeded on down the road, then did the same stopping and looking. This went on until he got home and lifted the motor hood and evidently discovered the, by now, well fried remains of the scent glands.

He knew immediately which rascals to blame and came back to the sawmill camp with mayhem in mind. Trouble was, that ol' Model "T" stunk so bad people could smell it before seeing it! A bunch of hangers-on at the commissary (had a bar in it, too) porch laughed so hard over it the old man couldn't make himself heard when asking where the scamps were. He was quite a sight standing out in front of the store, red faced, stomping up dust and his "T" just idling there, stinking up a storm!

Took a long time before that smell didn't announce his arrival before being seen or heard.