by Ranger Daniel F. Murley

Mephitis mephitis  -  Striped Skunk Squad
by Daniel F. Murley

The cheering section was in place and each face was focused on the events about to transpire.

This particular group of rooters was standing anxiously behind glass and I gave a nervous wave as I took to the field of confrontation.  Now, the confrontation which was drawing so much angst and attention was one not normally sought by conventional sporting devotees.  I was taking the field with the intent and the game plan to face one of the fiercest foes in the forest summer leagues, the black and white clad...Mighty Mephitis.

I was armed only with a camera and was purposefully hoping to get as close as I could to the new team of mustelids who had taken up quarters in an old redwood stump clubhouse near us.  Now, this squad had a great group of rookies and though relatively young, had been working on their game.  That game was betrayed by the acrid odor which hung in the evening air.

These feisty fur balls come from a long line of tough all stars like the Bodega Badgers, the Washington Weasels and the Tahoe Martens.  They are actually even related to the fearsome Michigan Wolverines.  In fact, if one looks closely the white stripes on their black heads are formed in the same distinctive pattern.

Suddenly I heard a loud tapping coming from the luxury boxes.  Oona was frantically tapping on the glass and gesturing to the creek bed.  Sure enough over the rise, across a downed log and onto the field strode the striped skunk squad.  At first I had thought that was the referee crew but soon the raised tails and shuffling waddle of the team members gave them away.

This was the second time this evening I had been out there and though the earlier match had ended in a draw.  I was not to be deterred.  I stood my ground; I was going to prevail.  They kept heading right for me in a determined, seemingly organized formation.  My hands trembled on the camera as they got closer and closer but I wasn't going to flinch.

I knew that these guys (actually the team captain was the mom) had notoriously poor eyesight but excellent smell and hearing.  It must have been my human odor, as I was perspiring a bit, or the clicking of the shutter button, but the leader finally stopped just 15 feet in front of me.  I knew I was well within the maximum effective range of the noxious spray but I held my ground and after head-faking left and right, the squad shuffled off toward the sidelines.

Breathing a somewhat smelly sigh of relief I gave a triumphant wave of acknowledgement to my fans, saluted my opponents and shuffled myself back to the safety of the grandstands.  The accompanying image of the striped skunk huddle and the adulation of my faithful fans are my trophies and testimony to that twilight double-header.