Le Skunk

My training is increasingly biased towards biking as I prepare for this Fall's 4 days of riding at Moab. Still, I'm getting in some mileage on my favorite trails.

Here's why I love trail running. I set off at 7am into a stiff breeze and hit the trailhead 0.1 miles down from the house. As I climbed up the trail, the summer grass of California glowed golden in the early morning light. It was stunning. A post card.

Because I was running into the wind, my odor and noise was masked so I was practically on top of the wild critters before they saw me. In less than 5 minutes, I came up to within 10 yards of 2 does, surprising them as they grazed the high brush. Within two more minutes, I made my acquaintances with Monsieur Skunk.

The track was turning right and rising up a slight incline. My pace was moderate and I was enjoying the audio show of two hawks in the trees a hundred or so yards ahead. As I crested the rise and began to turn right, a skunk was in a comparable moderate pace descending from the bank of the trail to my right. He landed square on his front two paws five feet before me just as we saw each other. His momentum carried his rump to near vertical as he swiveled in my direction on his forepaws. He arrested his pace and landed nose to nose with me, already his tail bristling and his ears seeming to lay back.

I made my acquaintances with a quick "Whoa!" and came to a instantaneous halt. I don't think my ass went vertical like my friend the skunk's as I stopped, but one never knows until they see the actual video replay.

So for a brief second we stared at each other. I found my voice and my wits before he found the safety latch for his spray.

Me: "Easy there, Mr. Skunk." (back step, back step)
Skunk: stare, stand ground, splay and make tail larger
Me: "Trail is your's sir."
Skunk: majestic stage right exit

I paused a few seconds, respectfully called out my intentions to continue the run and did so at a slightly faster pace.

Two more minutes (I swear I'm not making up these times), I paused to take in a golden eagle shreeking at the wind in a tree below me. Ten minutes later, a young buck and doe. Five minutes later, a big buck. Ten minutes later, a nice fat doe.

Too bad Marlin Perkins or his assistant Jim aren't able to go out on my runs. Of course, had they I can imagine the monologue "My assistant Jim will attempt to milk the skunk's spray glands while I maneuver around for a good look at a Callippe butterfly just upwind."