376 THE SKUNK. 
The eyes of the Wolverene are small, and of a dark brown, and are not remarkable 
for their brilliancy, 
A fine specimen of this animal is at present in the Zoological Gardens, where its 
form and habits may be well studied. Except when it opens its mouth, and displays the 
double row of glittering teeth, it does not give the spectator the idea of being a particularly 
savage or voracious animal, but has rather a good-humoured aspect. Although not very 
quick in its movements, it is rather restless, and is seldom still except when sleeping. 
It climbs about the branches of a tree with great ease, and seems to luxuriate in 
its own curious way among the boughs, rolling itself upon them, and patting the 
branches with its paws in quite a playful manner. Its perfect command over itself 
while thus recreating itself appears very curious, because it has but little of the look of 
a climbing animal. 
It can leap from a tolerable height without seeming to take any precaution, or to 
consider that it had achieved any great feat. When it descends from its tree, it will not 
long remain on the ground, but climbs about the bars of its cage with great ease and 
activity, always, however, seeming to ascend with greater readiness than it descends. 
Sometimes it runs several times in succession round the enclosure, keeping up a kind of 
canter or short gallop, and ever and anon pausing to see if a piece of cake or other 
delicacy has been pushed through the bars. 
In its native country, the animal is detested by the hunters, whether they belong 
to Europe or America. For the Wolverene is in the habit of following the sable-hunters 
on their rounds, and of detaching the baits from the traps, thereby rendering the whole 
circuit useless. If a sable or marten should happen to be entrapped, the Wolverene 
does not eat the dead animal, but tears it out of the trap and carries it away. In America, 
it is specially obnoxious to the hunters, because its fine sense of smell enables it to 
discover the storehouses of provisions—“ caches” as they are technically termed—which 
the provident hunters lay by in order to fall back upon in case of bad success. If it 
should unfortunately discover one of these repositories, it sets itself determinately to 
work, tears away all obstacles, and does extreme damage to the provisions, by eating 
all the meat, and scattering on every side all the vegetable food. 
In captivity, its greatest dainty is said to be the body of a eat, for which strange diet 
it will leave every other kind of food. 
The Wolverene is not a very prolific animal, as it seldom produces more than two at a 
birth. The maternal residence is generally placed in the crevice of a rock, or in some 
secluded situation, and the young Wolverenes make their appearance about May. 
The SKUNK has obtained the unenyiable reputation of being literally in worse odour 
than any other known animal. All the weasels are notable for a certain odour which 
emanates from their persons, but the Skunk is pre-eminent in the utter noisomeness 
of the stench which it exhales when annoyed or alarmed. To the animal itself, the 
possession of this horrid effluvium is a most valuable means of defence, for there is 
no enemy that will dare to attack a creature that has the power of overwhelming its foes 
with so offensive an odour that they are unable to shake off the pollution for many hours. 
There seems to be no animal that can withstand the influence of this abominable odour. 
Dogs are trained to hunt this creature, but until they have learned the right mode of 
attacking the fetid game, they are liable to be driven off in consternation. Dogs that have 
learned the proper mode of attacking the Skunk, do so by leaping suddenly upon the 
creature, and despatching it before it can emit the fetid secretion. The scent proceeds from 
a liquid secretion which is formed in some glands near the insertion of the tail, and which 
can be retained or ejected at will. When the Skunk is alarmed, it raises its bushy tail 
into a perpendicular attitude, turns its back on its enemy, and ejects the nauseous liquid 
with some force. 
Should a single drop of this horrid secretion fall on the dress or the skin, it is hardly 
possible to relieve the tainted object of its disgusting influence. A dog, whose coat had 
suffered from a discharge of a Skunk’s battery, retained the stench for so long a time that 
even after a week had elapsed it rendered a table useless by rubbing itself against one of 
te 
