  Lest I be misunderstood in calling this wonderful little animal man’s best friend among the furry creatures of the wood, let me at the outset draw attention to the fact that, far from putting a bounty on its destruction as some people might think desirable, many states have laws protecting it, as much for its usefulness to the farmers as for the value of its very beautiful fur. The large black and white striped skunks we or our pet dogs often encounter, sometimes to our disaster, belong only in North America. Our friend Striped Coat was one of these. In the southern and western states lives also a little cousin of his—the spotted skunk—whose fur though attractive is not so valuable; but neither he nor the broad-striped skunk of Central and South America enter the pages of this story, for Striped Coat lived his life farther north than the range of either. All of the skunk family still seem to be considered unpleasant and almost unmentionable creatures merely because of their ability to throw in self-defence a liquid, in the form of a spray, possessing anything but the fragrance of roses. Admitting that the odor is indescribably awful and that to get it on one’s clothing is anything but a reason for joy, it may still be claimed that the skunk himself is by no means a “smelly” animal and that his recourse to this means of defending his life is quite permissible as proved by our own methods of warfare. In the ocean the otherwise defenceless little squid, when attacked, throws out a dark liquid which spreads in the water and either blinds its pursuer momentarily or so confuses his vision that the active squid has time to escape. It is the same thing in the case of the skunk. Let a fierce dog rush at him, and when a show of his little teeth and a brave stand have failed to save the poor fellow, deny him if you can the right to use as a last resort this stinging, pungent musk which, properly aimed at the eyes of his big enemy will have just enough effect to allow him a safe and bloodless retreat. I do not doubt that there are many skunks who have never had occasion to pollute the air in this way. Several have lived for years in drains around my country home, and because my dogs are tied at night, have only twice made their presence known by throwing musk—once when one of their number was run over by an automobile and once when some kind of a fight occurred among the animals feeding together at night around the garbage barrel. That they have done me great service in killing rats, field mice, beetles and grubs, is only too evident. On all sides are small holes in the earth and otherwise unobtrusive signs of their diligence in my behalf. They are my friends and I am theirs. To me no other pretty creature of the woods is more interesting. In the past the skunk has been badly treated by authors. It was so easy to take a humorous but barbed fling at the poor wood pussy! But that day is past, for facts will out and our debt of gratitude is too great longer to be ignored. If my own words in tracing a part of the life history of Striped Coat, prove at all illuminating, I shall be happy. I have come across several skunks of his peculiar marking; one of them, partly tamed, is shown in the illustrations; but the story itself is largely fictional though following throughout the habits and true characteristics of these wild little friends of man. Belonging as they do to the elusive weasel tribe and being largely nocturnal in their habits, to chronicle all the actual happenings in the natural, wild life of one of them would seem an impossible task. Including this little creature in my wild animal series is somewhat contrary to the advice of my publishers who naturally believe in “best sellers” rather than in “best smellers,” but I have a fond hope that Striped Coat will win his way with readers to a place beside Bun, Red Ben, Gray Squirrel and those to follow. I might add that a young skunk readily becomes a very tame, unusually interesting and beautiful pet, a safe one however only if accidents are provided against by “disarming,” that is, by the removal of the two scent sacs. J. W. L. Bethayres, Pa. |
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