Skunked

Not real life Pepé… but a close approximation.

On today’s episode of “North Woods Wildlife: Adventure in Your Own Backyard”, watch as the Starks grapple with another unexpected visitor!

I’ll begin this story with a little bit of backstory.

Last fall, we had been researching buying an RV forever, and decided to rent one for the first time to try it out. We found a nice little 30 foot Class C, just big enough for us to sleep in the back, the boys in the over-cab bunk, and Olive on the jackknife sofa next to the kitchen. We headed out to Joshua Tree for 5 days and had an awesome trip. On the last night, I woke in the middle of the night to Brent obsessively clicking the flashlight on/off.

CLICK.

CLICK. CLICK.

CLICK.

CLICK. CLICK. CLICK. CLICK. CLICK.

It was aggressive.

Me (lovingly): “What in the F are you doing?”

Brent: “I just saw a rat run across Olive’s pillow.”

Apparently, it is well known in the RV community that little critters love to make homes inside RV’s. We are part of a few Facebook groups now and there is constant conversation around how to prevent mice/rats/chipmunks from taking up permanent residence in your home on wheels.

Because of Brent’s obsessive research on the subject, he was well aware of this fun fact.

I was not.

In fact, he had come across some “evidence” earlier in the trip that led him to believe that we might have some hitchhikers. He wisely did not share this information with me, knowing that we would immediately be hightailing it home.

So on the last night of our trip, we found ourselves shacked up with a family of rats casually roaming around our kitchen and across Olive’s bed. We brought her into bed with us and spent the rest of the night staring at the ceiling, waiting for the obvious conclusion of us all being nibbled to death in the desert.

We survived.

But since then, I have carried with me the very rational fear that history will repeat itself and we will once again find ourselves with some new roommates.

Cut to present day, Minnesota.

Ziggy (the cat), on his daily hunting adventures, has made it very well known that there are a plethora of small rodents roaming the yard. I was the in the RV by myself one morning and while walking up towards the front door, heard what I can only describe as a rhythmic gnawing sound.

Mother plucker. Something is in here.

I looked around everywhere and kept listening for the sound. I finally determined that it was coming from somewhere in the undercarriage near the front passenger seat.

I told Brent who consulted with his Dad, and they decided to set a trap on the ground just below to see if we could catch whatever was trying to gnaw its way through my sanity and our electrical system.

The next morning Brent took Molly (Dog #1) out to go to the bathroom, and I heard him immediately start yelling at her, “Molly! Leave it! Come! Molly, get over here! Leave it!”

I’m still in bed when I get the text: “We caught a skunk.”

Let me stop here for a moment to say… I don’t kill things. I have a very solid belief that we are meant to coexist with wild animals, and just because we choose to live in wild places doesn’t mean we get to kill anything that wanders onto our property.

But, let’s be clear that I have never lived anywhere “wild.”

And also, let me be clear that after a very unscientific survey of nearby residents in Nisswa, MN… I am very much in the minority in that belief.

They kill shit when it wanders onto their property. Especially skunks.

So when I announced that under no circumstances would we be killing this skunk, let’s just say not everyone was in full support.

But I could not let it happen.

This skunk’s blood would be on my hands.

I was the one who instigated setting the trap in the first place.

My father-in-law (bless his heart), took a moment to gather himself and wipe the blood from his reluctantly bitten tongue, and then set to work gathering the necessary tools to release Pepé Le Pew back into the wild.

Fun Fact: Skunks can project their fluid, emitted as a fine spray or stream, at a distance of 15 feet and have sufficient supply for five consecutive discharges! Fun!

We know this because we googled it as we were preparing the release plan.

I quickly chose my role as chief documenter.

The extraction didn’t take very long, just a few minutes in total, the last minute of which is available for your viewing pleasure. Notice the commentary and direction-giving from the safely distanced videographer.

You’re welcome.

Turns out, Pepé likely lives underneath the storage shed in the yard.

Pepé’s days might be numbered after our departure, but I have requested to receive no further updates on his condition. Henceforth, I will be picturing him living a life of bliss, having tea parties in the backyard with all of his bear, deer, and chipmunk friends.

“City girls” all of the locals will sigh and shake their heads as we drive out of town.

Later that day, walking inside the RV, I again heard the gnawing noise. This time I was determined to figure out where it was coming from.

And figure it out, I did.

Apparently the weight of my womanly body is just enough to cause the RV to sway as I walk. And when the door is open and latched to the exterior wall, the swaying causes the latch to rub against the catch, in what I can only describe as a rhythmic gnawing sound.

Turns out, I’m the rodent living in the RV.

My apologies to Pepé, whose blood may or may not still be on my hands. Good thing I’ll never know.

Godspeed, little stinker.

I’ll leave you with some pictures from our last few days in Minnesota. It was three weeks of bliss (for us, anyway).