My Mom and Dad had a skunk move in under the shed down on the back of their property. Dad was careful when he went down there, not to surprise it. Dad had tried trapping skunks as a kid and did not really want to mess with it. He had a few bad experiences, and never became a good trapper. One day Dad made the statement in front of Mom, "Wish Roggie was here, he could shoot that thing without it spraying". Refering to the time I had shot the Skunks at my Uncles house. Wrong thing to say in front of my Mom, She does not like me, and in her opinion I am lower than dirt. Anything I do, any of my brothers can do better.
Now my brother Darrell was still living at home, so Mom told Darrell to "Go shoot that Skunk". Let me explain something here. I had been using my .22 Remington pump, with a 3X9X40 Bushnell scope. At 25 yards I could hit a rabbit in the eye almost every shot. Back then I went through a brick of .22 ammo a week, hunting and plinking, so I got a lot of practice, with a gun I was familure with, and one that can easily make a shot like that. Now Darrell was Mom's Spoiled Brat, he hardly knew which end the bullet came out of. He had probably never shot a whole box of .22 ammo in his life anyway. Now Darrell goes in and gets Dad's .22 Marlin semi-auto, with open sights. While Darrell was loading the gun in the garage, Dad told him to unload that gun and put it away. "You're going to get your self in trouble, and that shed will be stinking so bad, I won't be able to go down there for a week". Darrell laughed and continued on anyway.
Darrell goes down and hides behind a tree just before dark. Out comes the skunk, Darrel shoots at the head, skunk falls over. Darrell runs over and picks it up. He's just got to go shove it under Dad's nose and show him he was wrong. The shot had hit the skunk in the head and Darrell felt it had killed it since blood was all over the side of the head, and the skunk was limp. When he got it to the garage, he showed it to Dad. Dad started yelling "Get that thing out of her, I don't want it in my garage, just it's presence will stink up the cabinetry I am working on here. Dad made custom Kitchen cabinets for people. Darrell kept playing with it, tossing it back and forth between his hands.
Suddenly the skunk bit him. Darrell let it go fast, but kicked it as it fell. The kick sent it against the wall. Dad ran. Darrell was ticked and was making to grab it again, wrong move. Darrell caught the spray right in the face. Darrell grabbed his face and fell to the floor, receiving more spray. The skunk ran around him and headed for parts unknown.
Dad left the Garage doors open for the next three months. Stacked all the raw wood he had in the garage outside. Tossed the cabinet he was working on. Dad relocated his wood working shop over to my brother David's house. Mom scrubbed that garage over and over, never getting rid of the oder. All Darrell's clothes were thrown into the trash. Darrell was an assistant funeral director, they transferred him to the cemetery crew for a week, till he smelled better. When they moved away from there, Mom said you could still smell skunk in the garage.
This was just one incidence leading up to Dad changing all the locks on the house and refusing to give Darrell a key. Just ask lionhunter, our brother Darrell, a legend in his own mind. Just one more reason they live in Tennessee and I live in Alaska.
