My wife and I just returned from 11 days of camping. This trip wasn't so much fun since we'd come to work. We did meet a friendly skunk, though - well, maybe not exactly friendly, but not unfriendly either, thank God! He visited us nightly looking for crumbs of food. Kept digging hopefully and persistently each night in a spot where we'd poured some burnt grease. Right pretty little creature. He just waddled slowly off a little way if we went outside the tent, and didn't spray us -- thank God!

We were staying in a woodsy campground near where we've been in the (seemingly unending) process of building a cabin. Stayed in this place because they had the luxury of toilets and hot showers, and it was only about 20 minutes from our cabin site. We had a builder who did most of the construction but, to save some money, we had decided to do some ourselves.

We primed and painted and stained ... painted and stained ... painted and stained, hauled large rocks around for landscaping, raked and seeded the steep ground, then dragged our exhausted, aching old bodies back to camp late each evening, wondering as we drifted off on our wonderful air mattress if it was all really worth it! Next morning we'd feel much better. Oh, the wonders of cricket lullabies, warm sleeping bags and air mattresses!

As a kid, my brother and I sometimes camped out, wrapped in a couple of old blankets under a piece of ancient canvas we'd scrounged from somewhere. We felt very secure and cozy with a nice campfire crackling and flickering. Ahh -- those were the days! -- but, back to our skunk visitor.

The first night we'd luxuriated long and gratefully under hot showers and hungrily consumed large bowls of a delicious salmon stew Lynn had cooked up. While gathering firewood in the edge of the thick woods only a few feet from our camp, I heard a rustling in the leaves, shined the flashlight in that direction, and caught a glimpse of a small, lustrous black and white animal disappearing into the thick bushes. "Oh, no," I thought, somewhat dismayed, "a darned skunk!  What if he hangs around and we startle him?" Having had a few run-ins with these critters in years gone by, I knew the answer to that question very well!

Shortly after turning in that night, we heard Mr. Skunk ambling along the edge of the tent only inches from our heads since we were sleeping so close to the ground. Then heard his digging and snuffling. He seemed to leave and then return throughout the night. This went on for our entire stay and though we tried not to drop any food on the ground or leave any out, he, apparently kept smelling it and returning, hoping for an easy meal. We got used to his nightly rustlings and stirrings and slept peacefully.

One night, Lynn forgot to put an empty tuna fish can in the trash bag (hung from a limb) and boy, did "skunky" have a time with that, snuffling, licking and nosing it all over the place!

Near the last of our stay, we bought a bottle of nice wine with which to raise our cups in a happy toast, celebrating having completed a very long, tedious painting job. Just before turning in, instead of burning my paper cup in the fire, I left it on the ground with a little wine therein, wondering if our skunk friend might like it.

In the morning I found the rather chewed-up cup lying some distance away.

Apparently skunky had really enjoyed it! The thought did occur to me, though, that a drunken skunk might not be such a pleasant camping companion!

T&D Columnist Rush Button can be reached by e-mail at buttonrl@aol.com or by phone at 803-534-3724. His column appears every Tuesday. Discuss this and other stories online at TheTandD.com.

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