My formative years were spent in Wisconsin. It was the summer of 1962 when I was about 12. I was hooked on Fur-Fish-Game to the exclusion of everything else.  I had trapping fever bad.  Real bad.  My brothers had straight-A's and I barely had what was called a Gentleman's C.  Back then, I bought my FFG from the local hardware store magazine rack and I always managed to read an article or two before the owner said to “buy it or leave it”.  If I had the quarter, I bought it, and if not, I'd wait for the owner to be out of sight and read another article.

It was summer and I was tired of fishing.  The sun was hot, the water low and even the suckers were wary of boys with worms.  On one particular day, I caught a decent sized dace and decided to try to see if I could catch a raccoon. Back then there was no closed season on raccoons.  FFG had said 'coon loved fish even more with a slight taint, and a hollow log was an ideal set location..  A 1½ long-spring would hold them so that's what I did.  It took about two days for the fish to mellow sufficiently to put out a scent trail on the wind.  Unfortunately, it wasn't a coon that found the fish.  It was a big skunk, and he wasn't happy.

My Dad had boasted he was pretty good with skunks when he was a kid.  “Never heard he'd been sprayed, so I assumed he knew what he was talking about.” We had a Winchester pump action .22 in the basement and dad suggested he should shoot the skunk, just so the deed got done.  My brother, Ken, wanted to see the skunk and his eyes got pretty big looking at the raised tail.  But, we all took our positions behind Dad, because you always stood behind the shooter.  Ken was a little off to the left, but still behind Dad.

We learned a valuable lesson, that day, about wind.  Dad shot, and so did the skunk.  Dad shot again and the skunk followed suit.  Ken just happened to be in line with the plume when the wind blew, and he lost his lunch.  Three times!  I remember getting a strong whiff, but I wasn't quite as 'fortunate' as Ken.  Mom could tell we'd been up to something when we got near the house.  I remember finding swimming trunks on a sawhorse in the driveway.  With them was a bar of soap. Kenny got hosed, lathered, and hosed again until he smelled presentable.  

As time went on, however, I got pretty good at catching skunks.  One by the woodpile left the house smelling for a while.  Several on the trapline gave my car an interesting aroma.  More recently, I got the wind treatment and my wife said she could smell me 4-blocks away.  There was the time I had to tell a client we would have to make the meeting a bit later because I had a run-in with a skunk, followed by a long shower with a bottle of Dawn.  He was understanding but we practiced social distancing long before it was in vogue and things went well after he stopped laughing.

So far this season, I've taken 3 skunks in coyote sets, another couple in DPs and avoided being sprayed each time.  Dispatching is done with a long pole....  Harvesting the essence is getting easier since my partner does it for us. I just catch, dispatch, and freeze during the season. My wife of 47 years has either gotten used to the smell or is nose-blind.  I've been exposed many times, so I guess I'm nose-blind, too.  

Bill Adler