We caught one--Mr. Stinky--before Christmas, but his mom (I think . . .) is still there. I mean I know she is there, I just am not sure of the inter-skunk relationship.
So, last night was pretty bad. The skunk won't go into the trap, no matter what bait we use. I guess it is just a matter of waiting . . .
In the time-honored tradition of naming all animals and people with whom I come in contact, I have christened this one Osama bin Stinky, as it is difficult to capture, and very odoriferous.
This post has absolutely nothing to do with the Civil War. Nothing.
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