Walkin' After Midnight

I didn't really go Walkin' After Midnight.  That's an old Patsy Cline song that I like, but something that happened made me think of that song.  It is quite a story and I'll tell you about it in tonight's post.  I try to have my head on the pillow between 10 and 10:30 pm.  I've got no problems sleeping, even if I drink coffee in the evening.  Since I made a job change, I've tried very hard to make some positive changes.  I'm 55 and as I age, I notice by metabolism slowing and find that things that in the past I would find easy - are now hard.  

One thing I've changed is I try to get between 7 and 8 hours of sleep each night.  I try also to eat better and make better food choices with smaller portion sizes and limit snacking between meals.  I mess up a lot, especially on holidays and family gatherings (and when special desserts are in the house!)  Another thing I try to do is walk every day.  I installed a step counter on my phone and my official goal is to walk 7,500 steps a day.  Unofficially, I aim for 10,000 steps since that is 4 miles.

Sometimes I hit the goal easily.  Other times, I find myself at the end of the day with only 2,500 steps.  That means I have to get going.  Right now, it's nice in the late afternoon.  It is still cool, low humidity, and no mosquitoes.  Soon that will change, but at least for the present, it is a nice time to walk.  I generally walk laps around the yard.  Most days, Tricia joins me and we talk while walking.  One lap is about 400 steps.  I can check out the animals, the garden, the trees, wave to neighbors, and see a pretty sunset while walking.

Daylight turns to dark quickly, though, and sometimes I'm out walking like last night when the sun goes down.  Tricia isn't keen on walking at night, so she goes in and turns on the floodlights for me so I can see without running into a tree or walking off into a ditch.

Last night's walk involved some excitement.  We had just returned from a family gathering.  It was nearing 10 o'clock and I was walking for a short while and about to call it quits.  I was about to the western furthermost part of the yard and about to turn back south when something caught my eye.

It darted out from the ditch and stopped right in front of me and lifted it's fluffy tail.  It was small, black with a white stripe.  A skunk.  Bête puante in Cajun French.  There was nothing I could do.  He sprayed, and I ran the other way.  It was not a direct hit, fortunately, but the wind was blowing and the smelly mist did get me.  I headed back to the house, opened the back door and Benjamin said, "Ugghh!  What's that smell?"  I told him and Tricia what happened and Tricia had me take my clothes off outside and head for the bathtub.  She told me that I may have to sleep in another room!  

I emerged from the bathtub smelling better.  My clothes, however, may have to be thrown away!  What an adventure.  This afternoon when we walked, Tricia made it very clear that she was going inside BEFORE it got dark.  I though that was a good idea and followed her indoors.

Pepe LePew RIP

We thought there was a pretty good chance that we had killed the skunk the other night when we shot it in the flower bed.  When it couldn't be found the next morning, I thought that one of two things happened.  Either it was wounded, and it drug itself off to die somewhere OR I missed the doggone thing.  As it turns out, the latter was true.

Tricia called me last week to tell me that the skunk was out in the back yard during the middle of the day.  Not good!  She wanted me to teach her how to load the rifle so she could take care of the thing.  For the next few days, we didn't see the skunk.  But Saturday we decided to go pick pecans.  As we rounded the southwest corner of the house, we saw the skunk not 20 feet away.  He didn't see us.  I quickly ran inside and got my .22 rifle.  

In no time at all, the skunk was dead.  Boy did that thing stink!

It was a little ol' thing, and I almost felt sorry for killing it, but I didn't want to get sprayed.  My wife had also reminded me that skunks carry rabies and when wild animals start acting strangely, like coming into the yard unafraid in the middle of the day, something is wrong. Maybe it had the rabies.  We don't know, but I knew I had to put it down.

One shot from my Marlin .22 lever action rifle did the trick.

We don't have to worry about getting sprayed by the skunk anymore.  Crazy stuff!  In just a few days, we killed two possums and a skunk.  RIP Pepe LePew. 

Stinkin' to High Heaven

When I was six years old, I remember riding around in the family car singing a song entitled, "Dead Skunk in the Middle of the Road."  It was a very simple folk music song with the singer, Loudon Wainwright III, singing along with banjo accompaniment.  It was a funny song about a skunk that got flattened on the road by a station wagon, and now it was baking in the summer sun stinking to high heaven.  The song probably wasn't funny from the deceased skunk's perspective. 

We could relate.  We had a station wagon, there was always road-kill on the road, and we enjoyed singing.  My younger brother and sister and I belted out, "You light up my life," by Debby Boone, and "Rhinestone Cowboy," by Glenn Campbell with such gusto and emotion.  We thought we were troubadours or crooners, maybe.  Our singing careers never panned out as our talents weren't discovered or appreciated by agents.

Here are the lyrics to the song.  You can mash the button below and hear the dead skunk song if you wish.

Crossin' the highway late last night

He shoulda looked left and he shoulda looked right

He didn't see the station wagon car

The skunk got squashed and there you are

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

Stinkin' to high heaven

Last week I asked Milk Maid Tricia, the queen of the Manor, if she had observed any pecans on the ground.  When she answered in the negative, I told her I would go out and check.  I grabbed the spotlight and walked out to the pecan trees.  Pecans!  All over the ground.  Good!  We hadn't had pecans in a couple of years.  As I moved the spotlight around, my eye caught something!  A skunk.  It was only 10 feet away from me and its tail was up.

I ran inside and got my .22 rifle and quickly got back out there.  Tricia pleaded with me to not get sprayed.  When I got back out there, the skunk was still there.  If you look closely below, you can see it with its tail raised.

Pepe LePew scurried into a pipe.  I spotlighted him, took aim and fired.  Unfortunately, the gun went "click."  I ejected the bullet, reloaded, and tried again with the same result.  I ran back inside to assess the issue and found that the gun needed some adjustments.  With those made, I went back out there, but the skunk was gone.  Almost every night since, we've seen him (or her) out in the yard.  Trouble!

Two nights later, Tricia walked out on the front porch and found the skunk occupying the steps with her.  She came back inside with the quickness.  Like Jed Clampett hunting for vittles, I scurried out on the front porch with my rifle.  The skunk, tail raised, ran into the flower beds for cover.  I shot but was in such close quarters, I didn't want to risk getting sprayed confirming a kill.  The next day we searched, but could not find a carcass.  Perhaps he drug himself off and is stinkin' the high heaven.