05/19/2026
You took the trash out in the dark and I was near the edge of the driveway. I stomped my front feet against the asphalt. I hissed. I raised my tail like a flag and took two quick steps toward you.
You dropped the bag and ran inside.
I'm a striped skunk. I've been living under the brush pile behind your shed for a year. I have terrible eyesight, I move slowly, and the performance you just watched wasn't an attack — it was me asking you to back off so I wouldn't have to use the one defense I'd rather not spend.
🦨 The stomping and the tail are designed to give you every chance to leave.
I do this because spraying costs me. My body holds enough for a handful of uses, and once I run out, it takes over a week to produce more. During that time I have no defense against coyotes or great horned owls. Every spray I fire at something that wasn't a real threat is one I don't have when something is. I don't want to waste it on you.
Here's what most people don't know. While you sleep, I dig up ground-nesting yellowjacket colonies you didn't know were in your lawn. My thick fur protects me from the stings. I eat the adults, the larvae, and the comb. I dig up the grubs that kill your turf. I hunt the mice working their way toward your foundation.
By midsummer, you might see a mother leading a single-file line of miniature skunks through the grass at dusk. They're learning to hunt grubs. They already know how to stomp their tiny feet.
🌿 If you see me:
- Stop moving and speak softly — my vision is poor, but I hear well. Let my ears tell me you're a person and I'll waddle the other way
- Back away slowly — the stomping ends the moment I feel you retreating
- Don't trap and relocate me — you'd lose the only thing in the yard actively digging up yellowjacket nests before someone steps on one
I've been working your property line for a year, eating the things that sting and the things that chew. You only noticed me the night I asked for space.
That's because I'm good at my job 🌱