Varmints

A friend of ours mentioned the other day that they have a skunk. She wasn't talking about her teenagers, either.

It seems like a very pregnant looking skunk had taken up residence underneath their patio recently. Our friend's cat seems to have taken exception to the new tenant and stalks around the front door hole of the skunk's new den. It does not bode well for the future, if said skunk really is pregnant and not just well-fed…

This brought to mind a few memories of other pesky critter encounters from my Trail Crew days. Four-legged critters, not the usual two-legged ones.

One story involved a guy who rode his bike partway up the trail to Mt. Assiniboine. This fellow had ridden his bike up the trail as far as he could, about half way. He stashed his bike in the trees beside the trail, spent a nice couple of days in the backcountry and then made his way back to where he stashed his bike, hoping for a nice, relaxing downhill trip back to civilization.

He found the spot where he hid the bike, dug it out of the bush and found to his dismay that his bike saddle and handlebar grips were gone. He looked around the area and found a bit of foam and a lot of small animal tracks around the spot. It turns out that some of the smaller critters were attracted to the sweat on the handgrips and saddle and ended up chewing all the leather and foam as a snack!

So. Another 10-12 kilometers of trail to go, legs are already tired from walking to the halfway point and not much food left. Imagine the energy required to stand on a bike for another 10-12 kilometers! On a bumpy trail. With a seat post mere centimeters from your tush.

It made for a very long trip down the mountain.

Another time, a Trail Crew worker was up at a backcountry cabin, working on the trails and campgrounds in the area for a week. After a long day fixing, cleaning and other maintenance-y stuff, he wearily arrived back at the cabin and took off his work boots, leaving on the porch to air out.

When he woke up the next day, he went out of the cabin and couldn't find his boots. He searched all over and finally found a small hole at the back of the cabin. He stuck a flashlight down and saw a beady pair of eyes looking back at him. The remains of one boot sole and one of his boots were snuggled up nice and tight to the porcupine, ready for the next meal.

Luckily for my buddy, the animal was too full from eating the first boot to do more than bare his teeth. Once again, the smell of feet and the taste of sweat drew the animal to partake in a delightful meal of tanned leather. There's no accounting for taste!

And on that note:

The most memorable story I remember is the one where the weasel had fallen into the outhouse at one of the backcountry cabins. It was dark and the group of Park staff had been hiking around all day on a backcountry patrol. Supper was done and it was time to turn in.

One of the guys had to use the facilities and since there was a clear path to the privy, he didn't bother to bring a flashlight. He arrived at the door safe and sound, went in and made himself comfortable (or least as comfortable you can be in an outhouse).

It seems the weasel had almost escaped out of the hole when the staffer sat down.

There was a flurry, a scream, abundant thrashing about and a huge BANG as the door to the privy exploded open.

It did not end well for either of them.

We'll leave it at that. All I can say is, store your boots inside, cover any holes under your patio and always, ALWAYS check the outhouse with a flashlight before you sit down.