An Amateur Skunk Farmer. 
Our first skunk was evidently a titling or one 
of a late litter, but precocious. We were not 
deterred by teeth or odor, but rolled him in a 
sack and carried him to the pen which we had 
fitted for our young foxes several years before. 
On the following morning the boys found two 
more. These were of the same size and ex¬ 
hibited the same characteristics as our first. 
They were widely separated and wandering 
aimlessly about, seemingly laboring with anxiety. 
No doubt the mother had met with some mis¬ 
fortune and we were constrained to adopt the 
family. 
The little skunks drank readily of the warm 
milk set before them night and morning, and 
the woodchucks which the boys trapped and 
shot in the meadows completely furnished forth 
their tables, but we lost one within the week. 
The handsomest one of the trio in attempting 
to escape became entangled in the wire netting 
and died soon after we extricated it. The others, 
both females, thrived. They soon learned to 
drink from a dish held in the hand and allowed 
their keepers to take them out of the nest and 
handle them. Their only sign of displeasure 
was an emphatic patting or stamping of their 
forepaws on the floor when we entered their 
domicile. This was a much louder sound than 
one would suppose so small an animal could 
make, and it was always more emphatic when 
strangers looked in. 
When winter drew near we snugged up their 
nesting box, but so arranged it that we could 
look in at any time without unnecessarily dis¬ 
turbing them. They were light sleepers and 
never at any time lapsed into the trance-like 
condition of the woodchuck. During the cold¬ 
est weather they ate but little, sometimes a 
week or ten days passed between meals, but 
the animals were always wide awake in a 
moment when we uncovered their nest. Just 
once we thought they had fallen into a Rip 
Van Winkle doze. It was an unusually cold 
morning. When we looked in the two lay 
curled together like one. The only stir was 
a barely visible opening and shutting of the 
fur due to their regular breathing, but at a 
touch they raised their heads and opened their 
bead-like eyes. 
During the summer following one of the pair 
died. This was due in part to lack of variety 
in their food and to confinement in a building 
when for health’s sake we should have yarded 
them. But shortly afterward the boys caught 
another in one of their woodchuck traps. We 
maneuvered with him until we slipped him into 
a sack, freed his foot from the trap and car¬ 
ried him down to the pen. Our new acquisi¬ 
tion we christened Pete. He was about half 
grown, mostly white and not particularly beau¬ 
tiful. Except for marital troubles that de¬ 
veloped later, the history of this pair might still 
remain unwritten. 
Another winter passed. I was busy about the 
barn one April afternoon when I heard a hoarse 
squealing in the vicinity of the skunk pen. At 
first I imagined that all the rats on the premises 
were breaking up housekeeping. In the year 
and a half that we had kept skunks we had 
never heard them make a vocal sound. “The 
skunk * * * is the most silent creature known 
to me,” writes Mr. Burroughs. “He makes no 
sound, so far as I have observed, save a diffuse, 
impatient noise, like that produced by beating 
your hand with a whisk broom, when the farm 
dog has discovered his retreat in the stone 
fence.” But the skunk has a voice and can lift 
it on occasion, as we shall testify. 
Pete was of that age when we captured him 
that he never became domesticated. We never 
dared to handle him. When he brought his 
fore paws down with a thump, arched his back 
and waved his tail, we made no further ad¬ 
vances. I had never seen him leave his nest 
willingly by daylight. On looking through a 
knot hole in the door I saw him teetering up 
and down the length of the pen in a state of 
great excitement. His mate was nowhere to be 
seen. There were two nesting boxes with little 
openings in the end of each lying side by side 
upon the floor, and to add to their warmth a 
quantity of- fine straw had been thrown over 
them. The female presently appeared in the 
doorway of one of these and with a threaten¬ 
ing squeal sallied out in pursuit of the now 
thoroughly frightened male. It seemed to be 
a case of domestic infelicity. Round and round 
they went, the male squealing with fear and 
the female with anger, until the male scrambled 
to the top of the straw pile, when the female 
re-entered her nest. By this time their odor 
pervaded the place. When I opened the door 
and entered, Pete slid down the straw pile and 
hastily retreated into one of the boxes. Un¬ 
fortunately for him he plunged blindly into the 
one which his mate had a moment before en¬ 
tered. Immediately there was a muffled squeal¬ 
ing inside and Pete popped out in greater haste 
and terror than ever. His haste, however, was 
much retarded by his mate who, with sharp 
teeth fastened firmly in his tail, came sliding 
stiff-legged behind. On seeing me she released 
her hold and again retired to her nest. Pete, 
taking advantage of the momentary cessation of 
hostilities, climbed up on the straw, but at a 
motion from me came down again and disap¬ 
peared into the empty box. The female was 
now thoroughly aroused; she rushed out of her 
box, followed him in and routed him in a 
moment, driving him up on the straw as be¬ 
fore. I stepped out and closed the door, partly 
divining the cause of the trouble. 
When the boys came home from school all 
was quiet in the pen. Pete lay on the straw 
pile, shivering. An investigation disclosed six 
very young skunks in the female’s nest. At 
this stage in their career they were about the 
size of barn mice with the half and full stripes 
plainly marked on their bare, reddish skins. 
Pete’s troubles did not diminish. The female 
continued to guard her own nest and the empty 
one as well. Day after day she chased her 
spouse about the pen whenever he ventured 
down on the floor. Meanwhile four of the little 
skunks mysteriously disappeared. Whether they 
had died from injuries received in these fre¬ 
quent frays and the mother had buried them 
in the straw, or Pete had developed a cannibalis¬ 
tic appetite we could not determine. The con¬ 
tinued animosity of the female and Pete’s cow¬ 
ardice led us to favor the latter hypothesis. We 
decided to do what we should have done earlier 
in the season—separate the contending pair. We 
rolled an empty nail keg into the pen and drove 
Pete into it. Covering the keg immediately I 
placed it in a wheelbarrow and trundled it a 
quarter of a mile down the road where I re¬ 
moved the covering and liberated my unhappy 
passenger. The last I saw of him he was teeter¬ 
ing along through the spring woods with peace¬ 
ful prospects ahead. 
There is little to record of the remainder of 
the family. The boys handled the half-orphaned 
young like kittens—always ejecting the mother 
from the nest on these occasions for prudential 
reasons—lifting them out for visitors to inspect, 
but the visitors were invariably lacking in con¬ 
fidence and kept at a considerable distance. The 
camera aided us in keeping a record of their 
growth. But for the boys the novelty of skunk 
farming wore away. Night and morning there 
was water and milk and meat to be carried in. 
There were dishes to be cleansed daily and 
nests to be renovated frequently. When autumn 
came the boys voted to part with them. They 
could hardly have survived the season, so the 
boys chloroformed them. 
Thirty years ago the No. i grade, or black 
skunk sold for fifty cents, this season the price 
was $4. The prospect is good for still higher 
prices and the extermination of the skunk. 
While the offerings at the London fur sales 
may not decrease for some seasons, it must be 
remembered that not long ago skunk trappers 
were few in number, now every neighborhood 
has its professional trapper and hunter, besides 
the countless farm boys engaged in the busi¬ 
ness throughout the country. The fact that the 
skunk is susceptible of immediate semi-domesti¬ 
cation may save him from the fate of the 
beaver. 
I have read that all attempts at raising skunks 
have been unsuccessful, but the writer gave no 
reason for the failures. The beginner may 
profit by our mistakes. It is my opinion that 
the No. 1 grade can be bred exclusively. The 
breeding of skunks for solid color should be 
a shorter and simpler problem than the im¬ 
provement of domestic animals along many 
lines. A number of skunks taken together in 
one burrow will often grade 1, 2 and 3; in an¬ 
other 2, 3 and 4. This goes far toward prov¬ 
ing that the distinctive white markings of the 
grades are readily transmitted. Our small at¬ 
tempt was not conducted with a view to prov¬ 
ing this particular theory; it was to have some 
questions answered, to know more of the silent 
lives of these witless creatures. 
Will W. Christman. 
