Ever since I moved here (six years ago at time of writing), I’ve had a skunk living under my deck. I’m quite fond of the beast, despite that it eats my day lilies when they bloom (but it also eats slugs!).
And by “it,” I’d better refer to it as “she.” I accommodate her passage to my back garden by leaving a gap under the fence on two sides. She has to pass through two other properties before she can get home; thankfully my immediate neighbours seem to feel the same way about her, and don’t freak out when their dog starts barking about the silent black-and-white intruder. (Yes, my dog once got sprayed. It’s a rite of passage for dogs!)
I took the above photo early one morning, when I saw her from my chair vantage by the patio door. She came in from her night of partying (foraging) and took a long, long, looooong drink at the dish. She was looking rather hour-glass shaped. She was going to need a place soon. She then trundled under the deck –yay!– and then, a minute later, waddled back out – uh oh. Was the space already occupied?
Aside from a slight whiff of skunk spray, I’d had no other indication the den was occupied. I’d had a garden party earlier in July, for which I had to clean the decks (more about that below). I hosed them down, applied deck cleaning solution, scrubbed, rinsed, scraped, sanded, and painted. It must have been a terrible ruckus, but I figured the skunk wasn’t around, because my activity would have roused the dead at any time of day.
Also, the pond had lilies in it. Relevance? The skunks had always taken them before – as soon as a lily (day lily or water lily) blooms, it’s gone by the next day. Guaranteed. Or so I thought.
But then, three evenings ago, I heard a rustling in the garden and wondered if I had some late-arriving birds, like grackles or starlings, who sometimes descend for a good communal bath in my pond. Instead, I met with this adorable sight:
A family of four skunk kits, plus Mom! And I’d never know it if I hadn’t seen them. That’s how good they are as neighbours. No tearing down my garden wire fencing; just coming and going as silently as burglars to their den under the deck.
Now that I’ve seen the little ones’ bouncing and scraping, I see more evidence in the garden now.
In my view, a garden without a resident creature is impoverished. So to make up for the meagreness of my vegetable plot, I am rich in hospitality to wildlife.
A sad discovery under my deck
Unfortunately, not all outcomes are so happy. Some people interfere, and trap and poison them.
Granted, it was a rat, but he wasn’t hurting anybody. I had seen him a couple of times before, and thought him rather handsome. A lot like a big boy I had a long time ago:
When I was cleaning the deck for the party, I lifted the most difficult boards in order to flip them. I’d noticed a smell like something had died under the deck. And yes, it had. Here is the first view:
To the left, you can see a collection of paper and plastic scraps he’d used to line his nest. I find this charming. When I’d checked out where the skunk lived, there was no such collection of “blankets.” Only rats do this, and squirrels when preparing for winter (or for babies). (Updated to add: opossums also collect leaves to make nests.)
But in the corner, you can see he’s not lying in state on his bed. No. Instead, he lurched to the other corner of his cabin for his last agonies. And agonies they were, because the turquoise staining you see at the tail end of his skeleton is not mouldy fur, as one might assume. It is the stain of a block of poison. And the little fellow ate a lot of it.
I was sad to see the decomposing body, which I respectfully buried. But I’m grateful when creatures choose my property as the best place to die. It might mean they at least feel safe or comforted here. And I’m not at all squeamish about composting or interring them properly.
I made the connection about the poison when my resident squirrels, unwittingly helpful creatures they are, positioned a block on top of the fence leading to my patio balcony. I wondered where that thing that looks like a rock came from until I picked it up: it was poison. I hope the squirrels only played with or consumed just a little of it, and left it out in the open from wherever they found it as a reject.
I’ve put it in a container inside, I don’t know what for. As if I need evidence that someone has decided to “solve” a problem, as that’s how it’s been presented to us.
A single rat in the backyard is not a problem. Nature itself takes care of “problems.” Competition, predation, accidents – these make quick work of small animals, without our having to do much to speed it along.
It doesn’t take much to search about the ecological management of rodents. Rodent-Ecosystem Relationships (1999, Dr. Chris Dickman, an Australian desert ecologist) even discusses the positive aspects of rodents in ecosystems. Considering how we belabour the economic damage rats do to crops (and island ecology, of course), and the public health issue of plague (a rare occurrence now, as it’s fully treatable with antibiotics), a neutral–beneficial perspective is long overdue. A lot of work has been done to research rats and put them into proper perspective, though the phobic grooves are well-worn. We must try to see them as they actually are.
A different perspective
We should be proactive about such “problems” instead of reactive. When I feared losing my seedlings, I used exclusion (a chicken wire fence) to keep the birds out of my lettuce garden. Because I didn’t want rats to take up residence in my composter, I put hardware cloth under it to render it more difficult. Exclusion and obstruction do a lot to dissuade all but the most determined animals (and we humans use these methods against each other, both literally and socially, keep in mind!). I highly recommend trying these first.
I’m not the only one feeding the birds, composting, gardening, and fencing. There’s a lot more life and enjoyment in having the space for these, than in some barren, inhospitable place (such as patio stone and grass). So yes, I am counselling you to chill out about seeing a rat or a skunk, or if you should be so lucky, a vole or a possom. It doesn’t signify a problem, and problems don’t always need intervention. Try appreciation instead. I have a different blog post about “nuisance” prevention here.
No problem is worth the suffering – and the unintended effects, when poisoned animals then poison other animals – that poison causes. We humans choose the ideas that cause us suffering. We can choose differently.
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