"Road kill has its seasons just like anything.
It's possums in the autumn and it's farm cats in the spring."
It's apparent that when Tom Waits wrote that, he hadn't traveled to Kentucky yet. But I think Mr. Loudon Wainwright the Third got it right when he wrote this one.
You can definitely tell that warmer weather is upon us, friends and neighbors, by the number of flattened, furry, formerly live things paving the roads. And it's not just the aroma of blooming trees and budding flowers that announces spring's arrival, nor is it the scent of fresh-cut grass or even a charcoal grill.
Oh, no. It's skunk. Dead skunk. Dead, flat, crispy, flakey, stinky skunk.
Oh, sure, you'll see your roadkill squirrel with its paper-thin body now one with the pavement with its fluffy tail still flappin' in the breeze as cars whiz by. And there's the occasional possum that's a large grey lump with its rat-like tail stretched across the road. And, the ever-tragic dog or cat that was once someone's beloved pet.
But nothing, and I mean nothing, can out-do the absolute stench of skunk.
And unfortunately, our little neck of the woods has become Skunk Central. That means the roadkill is unfathomable. The streets are practically carpeted with the damn things, like little smelly throw rugs all over the place.
I'm not sure why our burb is the Mecca in which all skunks must dwell. Perhaps it's a spiritual thing. Maybe the breeding is just too good here. We must have better tasting garbage than other areas in town because the Spouse and I noticed it shortly after we moved into our house almost 5 years ago. Seems that J-town and Fern Creek is THE place to live and work for skunks.
One night last fall friend Nicograph was visiting and the three of us were lounging on our deck. We had mentioned to her about the wildlife we see scampering in the area and how we seemed blessed with skunks. At that moment, Fate intervened to prove our point and we caught that strong, acidic and familiar scent. Needless to say, Nicograph was impressed. To the Spouse and I, it was old hat.
So the Spouse and I have a saying: "Welcome to J-town! Here's your free skunk." Seriously, we have plenty to go around and we'd appreciate it if you took one home with you to help control our population.
Just this morning, at a dark and early 6am, I'm walking down the driveway to grab our newspaper and lo and behold, there's a skunk just a-waddlin' across the cul de sac. His fat little striped body was just rolling along with his tail up like a damn flagpole.
Now we have killer bunnies that greet the sunrise in our front yard all the time (I'm serious, these fuckers are HUGE). We have a plethora of neurotic squirrels that are constantly scampering around on our roof. We have possums that sneak around in our backyard and even a few foxes that stare at us as we drive out of the neighborhood on our way to work. Hell, we even have hawks and falcons fly around all the time.
Oh, yeah. And we had those raccoons shitting on our deck last year.
But dammit, the skunks are taking over. Don't get me wrong, I love animals and I hate to see anything squished on the road, but hell, every spring you can't even open your windows for the stench.
So all you deer hunters, howz about this year you try hunting something different. We guarantee you won't go home empty-handed.