Who ya gonna call....?

Today, my daughter has a block of classes, so I have a few precious hours to myself.  I had ripped some new songs to my MP3 player and was inspired to burn some calories by heading up the hill with the dog instead of my usual meander in the open space.

Since we were heading up to the road, I leashed the dog.  I put in my earbuds and went grooving along past the barn. Suddenly, the dog did a major double-take.  I turned to look at what caught her attention, and was very surprised to see a Striped Skunk wandering, or attempting to wander down the neighbor's fire road. Having seen the dog, the skunk adopted the defensive tail-up position.  I froze, watching.  Then the skunk took two wonky steps and collapsed.  

Skunk down!

It's really wrong to see a skunk wandering about in daylight.  If you see one, be wary. (In California, skunks are a primary carrier of rabies).  Based on the lurching/collapsing in the middle of the day, I immediately went home and called Wildlife Rescue. I explained the situation; they gave me the phone number for San Jose Animal Services.  

Alas, we live outside their jurisdiction; I was transferred to County Animal Services.  The county "doesn't handle skunks," I was told, and I should call Vector Control.  Oh, and by the way, they will kill the animal.  Given that he was in pretty terrible shape anyway, I actually thought this might not be a bad solution.  But it turns out that Vector Control also will not come out for a "dying or dead skunk."  

What???   

Here we have a potentially dangerous animal in clear distress, wandering around an area where there are plenty of unsuspecting kids and dogs.  And NO ONE will come to catch it or kill it? That seems pretty odd to me.  I guess you're on your own up here.

So I made another call to Wildlife Rescue.  They said they could take the skunk, and that recently, they had successfully rehabilitated a skunk who had ingested poison.  But they had no one who could pick him up.

So, it came down to me to get this poor creature to anywhere that he might be helped to recover, or put out of his misery.  Wildlife Rescue kindly offered to have one of their skunk experts call me to advise me on the handling/transport.

Basically, a skunk is very shy, non-aggressive.  I know this.  But they spray.  The dog has been skunked twice. It is intense and nauseating, and de-skunking is a big pain.  I was pretty sure that my attempt to move the skunk would result in a spraying.  And once I got my head around that, I figured that although I would likely get sprayed, it was very unlikely that I would be bitten or scratched.

So here's my list of "How to Prep for an Unavoidable Skunk Encounter"

Wear old clothes that you wouldn't mind throwing away.

Cover your hair, eyes, and face.

Don't wear leather (except gloves).  Leather will thirstily drink up all the skunk musk, and will stink forever.

Wear gloves.

Get an old towel or blanket.

Approach the skunk slowly from the rear.

Slowly lower the blanket over the skunk.

Then what???  I decided to wing it.   Here's how it went.

Skunk is on the ground just slightly to the upper left of the bin.

Once I had the skunk covered, I carefully scooped him up.

I think it was right here that the spray occurred.

O.K., little guy?

Peeee-yewww!!!

I'm so excited to put this in my car....

All told, it could have been worse. 

Having read a bit about skunk-in-daylight behavior, I now think it pretty likely that he had rabies.  But I really can't think about that.  For one, sheesh, how stupid to handle a potentially rabid skunk.  But on the other hand, really, no one else was going to move that critter, and he needed to be dealt with one way or another. 

I don't feel very confident that he's going to recover, but I will call Wildlife Rescue tomorrow for an update.

Thank you Chigiy Binell for photos, advice, and moral support!

"Mom, WAIT..."

I was strolling up the driveway with my friend Chigiy, on our customary afternoon walk with the dogs, when my daughter burst out of the house at a run.

"Mom, WAIT . . . There's a big snake in my room!"  

Chigiy and I both made instant 180 degree turns and began walking back to the house.  The initial report from the front line was 1) that snake in question was not a rattlesnake - phew! - and 2) that one of the cats had brought it in for Tessa to admire (or perhaps, to inquire, "What are we supposed to do with this?"),  and 3) that it looked like a turd.  

O.K., so that ruled out gopher, garter, and king snakes. Tessa thought it might be a Sharp Tail Snake, but they don't really get "big."  They look like this:

One little Sharp-Tail snake

Two little Sharp-Tail snakes

We would have a hard time even seeing such a wee snake in Tessa's room.  Besides, I've never seen a pink poop.  Thankfully.

I wish I had thought to photograph the snake in "turd" form on Tessa's rug.  A soft brown color topside, he was neatly curled around himself, unmoving.  I feared him dead, or badly injured.  Gently, I put a towel over him to pick him up (I hate getting pooped on by frightened snakes).  I was also hoping to discourage that lightning fleeing that snakes do.  I guess if he had wanted to make a break for it, the dishtowel would not have hindered him at all.  (But it works really well for the rodents the cats bring in).  

Anyway, the snake had evidently turned to stone and let me pick him up easily .  We took him outside into the sunlight.  Chigiy already knew that it was a Racer.  They have large, expressive eyes, and tend to like moody music and stormy days at the beach.  

The Racer has a few little dings from his encounter with the cat, but does not seem to be irreparably damaged.  We are keeping him for a few days for observation, and because he is so utterly beautiful.

Top side of Racer, whom we Cannot See because he cannot see us.  (Just play along).

The colors of the underside --gorgeous.

Large expressive eyes.  

Blue Tailed Skink

What can you say about a blue-tailed skink?

They're really pretty.

Here, look.

 

Aghhh, Vampire Moth!

This morning on his way down the stairs to the laundry room, Finn saw this amazing creature.

Given that it was almost entirely white, utterly beautiful, and perhaps even a little bit sparkly, AND that the creature's mouth was stained red, we can only assume that we have been set upon by the rare and greatly feared Vampire Moth.

I immediately checked everyone's neck, and tragically, found two tiny punctures and a trickle of blood on James' neck.  

Now it is only a matter of time before his metamorphosis.....

Sunny Days Snakes

We had a couple toasty days last week.  It was gorgeous -- 90 degrees.  So, of course, Chigiy and I were thinking about snakes.

It is the anniversary of her rattlesnake bite.  Chigiy had brought her camera along on our daily walk with the intention of photographing the siren patch of lupines that lured her last year.

As we were strolling and nattering away, I happened to glance down at the trail.  What I saw stopped me in my tracks.  I grabbed Chigiy's arm as I pointed, unable to speak.

There it was, basking beautifully in the sun all shiny and snakey.  It turned out to be a gopher snake, but at first glance, you really can't tell, which is pretty much the whole point of the gopher snake's appearance.

So we picked it up.  Or rather, Snake Girl did.  So that I could take pictures. And hold my dog back.

This was a young snake, probably not more than a year or two old.  The young ones tend to be very docile.  The older ones are more inclined to hiss (feigning the rattle of their doppleganger) and they will even pretend to strike like a rattlesnake.  Garter snakes, on the other hand, freak out and poop all over you the moment they are picked up; not that I blame them.  

But it's a nice treat to get to hold snakes and admire them up close, feel the way they move, watch their scales move as their groovy muscles ripple.  This little guy looked as if he'd just shed -- very glossy.  The photos don't do him justice.

But the upshot of all this is:  it's snake season in CA.  Step carefully out there!

Baby Possum

 My friend Chigiy, knowing what a sucker I am, ambushed me late one night via instant messaging.  Her neighbor, she wrote, had found a wee possum.  Or rather, the dog had flushed it from out of a bush.  The neighbor, Marie, was concerned the little critter wouldn't be safe at her house, and could I take him?

I thought she was punking me.  "Who is this really?" I wrote back.

Once she had convinced me that there really was a baby possum needing shelter, the relevant phone calls were made, and 15 minutes later Marie delivered the little guy to us.  She also brought some milk from her goats and some goat cheese.  I was delighted by all three.

Possums are interesting, being the only North American marsupial and all, but honestly, I  have never really thought of them as cute.  Baby possums, though, are a whole different story.  This little joey was just beautiful, and thankfully, uninjured.  He was very shy, burrowing his head into the blanket  so he didn't have to see our ugly mugs peering at him. Adult possums will hiss when threatened, but this guy was too young; he was completely silent.  At his most menacing, he simply opened his mouth and showed his tiny possum teeth.  Aww.

I gathered supplies -- a small box, some old towels, and a cat-proof cage in which to put everything. A small water dish.  Some hot water bottles to keep him warm.

After some online reading about the care of baby/juvenile possums, I realized he really needed to be in the hands of Wildlife Rescue of Silicon Valley.  Possums apparently require a very specific calcium-to-phosphate ratio to avoid developing Metabolic Bone Disease.  Moreover, our house is full of curious animals and people; a surefire setup for major possum stress.  The other really cool thing I learned about possums is that they very rarely get rabies, probably due to their slightly lower body temperature.  Not that you should pet one if you ever meet one, but it's nice to know.  At least, I thought so.

In the morning, I was happy and relieved to find him not only alive, but out of the box, peering out at us from behind the back flap.

At Wildlife Rescue, they took one look at him and said, almost rolling their eyes, "Ohhhhh....it's another baby possum.  Just wait 'til I tell her..."  They're thick on the ground this time of year, then?  Sheesh.  In a perfect world, my friend's neighbor might have brought her dog inside and waited a couple hours.  I bet Mama Possum would have come back for her baby when the coast was clear.

Despite the jaded attitudes of the volunteers at the rescue center, I know they'll feed him right, and make sure he doesn't habituate to human contact.  He'll have litter mates.  I'm glad for him.

He was precious and perfect; we indulged ourselves with a few photos.

Porpoising

The grass out in the open space is getting long.  When the dogs go bounding through it, they evoke the image  of porpoises leaping out of the water.

Currently, ticks are the main annoyance.  Very soon, there will be foxtails to worry about, and rattlesnakes in search of rodents and warmth.  Then the porpoises will all be leashed.

Until then...

Happy Spring.

The Girl and the Dog and the Camera in the Late Afternoon Sun

The afternoon was waning, and my 10 year-old girl succumbing to ennui.

Exasperated with her negativity, I put the camera in her hands and told her to take the dog out to the open space to see how the world looked from out there.  It was an utterly beautiful day, and the light just happened to be reaching that long angle that always takes my breath away.

She not only cheered up, but she also lured her brother outside, and got some darn pretty photos too.

"These are uncropped and untouched," said her proud mama.

Good Side

Other Good Side

The Crooner

Grazing

Lounging

The Hayseed

Breaking Fashion News

Chickens are today's most under-utilized fashion accessory.

Hens-forth:  For that slightly muddied look, it is as simple as grab-and-go.

Indulge your aura of personal mystery and romance this spring with a hen....

Spring!

One of these girls likes the rain.

I can't believe my last post was in October.  Sorry about that.

I may travel back through my photo archives of the last few months and post some memorable events.  Or not.

Anyway, spring is here, and I am skeptically resuming the blog.