Friday, April 13, 2007
The thrill is gone
I was thrilled with my first pictures of a spotted skunk over a year ago. The chicken neck I had nailed to a mossy stump was intended for a grey fox, but the taker was the skunk. Its gladiatorial tango with the bait filled the camera's memory card. Six months passed before another spotted skunk encountered the cameras. I was ready for it, and baited it in with the patience of Sherlock. When I had exhausted the staging possibilities I had over two hundred pictures of one jazzed-up skunk climbing trees, disembowelling gopher carcasses, and digging holes to cache the meat.
Now I can't seem to escape the critters. The first time I saw this canyon live oak a diaphanous bobcat appeared momentarily in the crotch like a mirage. A week ago, when I finally laid my hands on squirrel a la camino I prepared the site with loving care. (Can't see the bait, can you?) Then I waited a week. Bobcat was no where to be seen, but Stinkarella was ready for action.
When she was done, her entourage of rodents was there to clean up the scraps.