Every morning I go out to feed the horses and goats at 5. The barn cats have access to
the tack room and their chow via a window but we have an almost daily uninvited visitor.
So, headlamp on, I creep into my own tack room to check and see if the local skunk is still in residence. This morning he was. Bold as black and white up
on the table finishing off the cat chow. This is not the first time we have met. We have
developed a set of protocols. I slowly back away from the tack room door, take my bright headlight off of him directly and he politely gets gone through the hole he dug under the wall. The floor is dirt, the barn is full of hay and it is too darn cold to be pouring cement. We've put boulders outside, wire, pieces of metal siding and tarp.
It looks pretty darn awful. Every day I block the most recent hole and every evening my stealthy James Bond of a skunk finds a new way to B&E my tack room. He has become such a routine fixture that the two barn kitties, Buzz ( because he starts purring when he sees you) and Juno seem to think sharing with their little black and white friend is just fine.
In fact, Juno was curled up on her bed not more than 5 feet away from Bond having a nap while he scarfed the rest of the food. She looked at me like I was daft for my oh so poor pussy foot imitation as I backed out of the room. Come spring we'll cement the floor of the barn. There will be less hay so we can back a mixer in and the temps will be warmer. Until then, I'll no doubt be outsmarted many times over since I suspect that Bond has a very able Q working for him.