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You never know what will find its way into a humane trap – you could end up with a skunk.

You never know what will find its way into a humane trap – you could end up with a skunk.

Editor’s note: The following column was originally published in the New Hampshire Union Leader on Sept. 19, 1987.

WE LIVE NEXT DOOR to the Monadnock Region Humane Society and it not infrequently happens that someone tosses an unwanted cat from their car. Our Sheltie, Sir Sidney, takes umbrage when cats even cast their shadow upon his territory. There is no sanctuary here for, upon discovery of such a trespasser, he raises a mighty uproar and proceeds instantly to “have at them” if, and that’s a big “if,” he can catch them. Frankly, I’m pleased to report that his success rate in making such a capture is very low. However, that means if I can’t cajole the feline into coming to me, then I have to resort to using a Havahart trap.

Each morning when Sir Sidney is let out of the house he immediately puts his nose to work sniffing out any and all creatures that have made passage through our dooryard during the night. And if he suspects a cat has so trespassed he becomes quite vocal.

One morning recently, Sir Sidney put on a vigorous show of hunting just after being let out. He tore about the yard cutting larger and larger circles and spoke with great authority. And that meant, cats!

When evening came I baited and set the trap and looked around for a good place to leave it. I wanted it to be under cover, somewhere a cat might go either to hunt or seek shelter. My first thought was the barn, but I rejected that idea as raccoons have been seen there at night searching for leftover grain. I was not after raccoons — not this time anyway.

We keep our John Deere diesel tractor in the garage with the bucket lowered and it occurred to me that the tractor bucket would be a good place for the trap, so that’s where I put it. I left the garage door open about a foot, just wide enough to accommodate a cat, and went to bed.

Sure enough, the next morning I had captured a lovely gray cat with a nice blue ribbon for a collar. It so happened that this was not a discarded cat but one that had escaped from the shelter. I found that out when I returned it there. They also informed me that a few days before, not one but three cats had spurned their sanctuary and had made their way to freedom.

Since two other cats were “on the lam,” so’s to speak, it became my civic duty therefore to recapture them. That evening just before retiring I rebaited and reset the trap. Now, Mildred is the early riser in the family and the next morning she discovered my effort had been a success. She gently woke me by saying, “You are a good trapper. You better check your trap.”

I arose and, still in my pajamas, went out through the shed to the garage to see what I had caught. There was something in the trap all right, but it was not a cat. No sir — it was a partly grown skunk! My sleep-filled eyes opened wider and, as you might guess, I approached very slowly. My first move was to carefully open the garage door. If there was going to be an explosion, I wanted to be surrounded with as much fresh air as possible.

The door made an awful squawk at being opened, but the skunk did not seem to pay it any mind. Suddenly, from out of nowhere, Sir Sidney appeared and dashed toward the trap. I found my voice in a hurry and he reluctantly obeyed my command to stay away. The little skunk had bumped its back upon hearing Sir Sidney but he held his fire. I was sure thankful for that.

My first thought was to remove the cause of a possible catastrophe and so I mounted the tractor seat, started the engine, slowly raised the bucket and drove out of the garage. I headed for the woods thinking that the skunk might become calmed by seeing familiar surroundings. Apparently the skunk was not displeased with my decisions to that point, for no expected but unwanted odor drifted back to my nose. When I thought we had gone far enough, I stopped the tractor, gently lowered the bucket to the ground and climbed down. I stood behind the bucket for as much protection as possible, reached over and struggled to release the trap door. This was a crucial time.

I had found no difficulty in unlatching the trap door before, but now with a skunk inside it seemed to be much more of a problem. I hasten to explain that in such a trap the door folds in the middle and is held at the bottom by two pins, one on each side. The pins fit into a metal catch and the catchers have to be squeezed in, both at the same time in order that the door can be opened. I managed to get one side loose, but as I tried the other, the first snapped shut again. The skunk arched his back and treaded up and down with his forefeet. I took this as a sign that his patience was being surely tried.

The trap continued to resist my efforts. All the while, I spoke softly to the skunk, I encouraged him to bide his time with pleasant thoughts. “There, there, I won’t hurt you,” I said. “It’s all right.” And I repeated the remarks several times. Frankly, I did not know what else to say under such unnerving circumstances.

Success at last! The door opened and I held it so with one hand while I tilted the cage slightly with the other. The little skunk didn’t seem to notice that freedom was but a foot away. I spoke again, encouraging him to be on his way. He looked up at me and turned around and faced the wrong way. I tilted the trap at a more precarious angle and slowly, too slowly, I thought, the skunk finally waddled out of the trap.

Once his feet touched the ground he headed for the brush, increasing his speed as he went. I was relieved that he didn’t look back. Although, now that I think about it, I would have appreciated a friendly wave as he found sanctuary in the bushes.

I climbed back atop the tractor, drove to the dooryard and backed the machine into the garage.

When I returned to the house Mildred said, “Still wearing your pajamas, I see.”

Stacey Cole, Nature Talks columnist for more than 50 years, passed away in 2014. If readers have a favorite column written by Stacey they would like to see reprinted, please drop a note to Jen Lord at jlord@unionleader.com.

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