The number of wild critters that become road-kill in America must be astronomical. Travel anywhere on a road and within a few miles you’ll be sure to see a dead critter carcass laying in the ditch or still on the roadway.
In the Fly-Over Nation of middle-USA, the most common critters to meet their demise by wheel, bumper or grill are squirrels, raccoons, possums, deer, rabbits and skunks, but others such as coyotes, foxes and badgers often join the carnage.
And, wild birds aren’t immune either. The feathered carcasses of hawks, buzzards, wild turkeys and pheasants also adorn our roadways, not to mention the too-little-to-see tiny songbirds.
And, this time of year, when the weather is transitioning from dead winter into early spring seems to be when critters most often display their death-wish. I don’t know why wild animals like to be in the middle of roadways during the night, but, judging from their road-kill numbers, they do. It’s commonplace to see multiple carcasses at the same place.
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Such was the case recently when I overran a pair of skunk carcasses in the middle of the road. The stench caused me to recall a dead skunk song recorded decades ago by Loudon Wainwright III. (Songwriters: Loudon Wainwright III: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.) Here are a few of the lyrics to “Dead Skunk in the Middle of the Road.”
You got your dead skunk in the middle of the road
Dead skunk in the middle of the road
Dead skunk in the middle of the road
Stinking to high heaven
Take a whiff on me, that ain’t no rose
Roll up your window and hold your nose
You don’t have to look and you don’t have to see
‘Cause you can feel it in your olfactory
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And, that song made me recall an uncomfortable skunk memory from my elementary school days. My sainted mother deemed it necessary that I perform in a youth talent show that took place a during the Old-Settler’s Labor Day celebration in the Uniontown, Kan., city park back in the 1950s. Furthermore, she decided for me that I’d sing a song entitled “Gee, It’s Tough To Be a Skunk,” and I’d wear a black and white skunk costume that she sewed for the occasion. Somewhere in an old family photo album is a faded black and white picture of me in that costume.
So, to round out this stinking “skunk” column, here are some of the lyrics to “Gee, It’s Tough To Be a Skunk.” (Note: Recorded by Vaughn Monroe; Words & music copyrighted by Murray Semos, Glad Robinson Youse, Ziggy Talent U Frank H. Stanton).
I met a porcupine one day, together we had fun.
We picked a lot of berries and we played out in the sun.
I said, “Your quills are very sharp, by gosh they really sting.”
He answered, “As for you, my friend, you’re not a breath of spring!
Gee it’s tough to be a skunk! Gee it’s tough to be a skunk!
I guess that porcupine was sharper than I really thunk.
Gee it’s tough to be a skunk! Gee it’s tough to be a skunk!
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After spending all my life is the country, I’ve had a number of encounters with skunks. Once in my youth, I found a nest of tiny baby skunks in a hay manger. I tried to raise one with a baby bottle, but it croaked on cow’s milk. I do recall that the baby skunk didn’t have a skunky odor yet.
**Laugh Tracks*
Also, back when I was in the 8th grade, one Christmas vacation I decided to go full-bore mountain man and get rich as a fur trapper. I borrowed leg-hold traps from a neighbor and all went well for most of the vacation.
But, then one day when I checked my traps, I’d caught a skunk and it had gotten the trap wedged tight in a rock crack. By the time I’d extracted the trap, I stunk to high heaven. The horse I was riding was not at all happy to carry me home in the saddle carrying the dead skunk in a gunny sack.
Then, to make matters worse, my ol’ pappy, Czar E. Yield, insisted that I had to skin the skunk and sell the hide. That day nipped my budding fur trapping career in the bud. The next day, I returned all the traps and never looked back.
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Back in my bird hunting days, I had Brittanys that would always try to tackle any skunk they encountered in the field. Sometimes they got sprayed so bad, I had to use my pliers to handle they with their collars.
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If you’ve stomached this column this far, I’ll end it for you with these words of wisdom: “Things that happen to you as a kid that you think are horrible are just plain funny recalling them as an old-timer.” Have a good ‘un.
