I used to be lucky enough to live in a house whose backyard bordered a pioneer cemetery in a rural area. In addition to the usual cast of woodland creatures that I was used to, like raccoons and opossums, I was visited by skunks. I had never even seen a real live skunk before they started showing up at my patio door looking for a handout. I know I probably shouldn't have done it, but I fed all the critters that came by. I figured we humans owed them for taking their land and running them over with our cars. I'd put dry cat food out in a few piles every night for them.

There were times when representatives of all three species would be crunching away side by side. Surprisingly, there didn't seem to be any inter-species rivalry whatsoever. The opossums were timid and didn't mind sharing with other opossums. They're dumb but sweet. The raccoons are curious, super intelligent, and all about having fun, but get extremely territorial when other, unrelated raccoons show up. The skunks were altogether different though. They were certainly smarter than opossums, but no where near as smart as raccoons. On the other hand, they had the most attitude of all. When they feel like someone or something is encroaching on their personal space, which is often, they go through this elaborate serious of warning behaviors like stamping their little front feet and turning into a U shape to let you see the business end of Mr. Stinky. It's only when you fail to take the hint that they reluctantly employ the nuclear option. And man, talk about radioactive. When you've got window open and a skunk explodes in the middle of the night, it will not only wake you up, but your house will reek for at least two weeks.

When more than one skunk is trying to eat from the same pile of cat food, they try to shove each over out of the way with their butts, and will actually lay down on the pile to protect it form interlopers. Once, I saw four young skunks each trying to do this to each other simultaneously. From above, they formed a rotating X pattern that look like a dance number in a Busby Berkeley musical. Alas, I've moved since then and only see the occasional raccoon. There is, however, a herd of deer that now lounge around my yard. I don't have to feed them, but they do keep my arborvitae trimmed.

used to be a staple of the fur industry, especially for collars, and skunks were killed for their fur much like mink, otter and beaver.

Nothing uncommon about a skunk coat, but extraordinary that she made it herself. Creating a fur coat is closer to leathercrafting than sewing, and she must have been a talented woman to pull it off.

I´m willing to bet it looked great, and probably didn´t smell too bad at the worst of times :)

That would be a fine retribution, though I prefer something similar to the scenario in Arthur C. Clarke's, "Childhood's End," where all the spectators at a bull fight are forced to feel the pain endured by the bull the first time it is stabbed by the matador. After that, bullfighting is outlawed.

"The opossums were timid and didn't mind sharing with other opossums. They're dumb but sweet. "

They're anything but sweet when they're provoked, in my experience. But maybe that's only where human beings are involved. Or the ones you know may be a lot mellower. All I know is, after some of what I've seen, I steer clear of them, although I do like them.

All the opossums I've encountered were pretty timid and tended to run from confrontation. Once I was driving home from work along the freeway and spotted a very distressed opossum trapped against the concrete barrier on the shoulder. It was very hot, traffic was heavy, and it was going to be road kill soon. I managed to pull over and back up to a few car lengths ahead of the opossum. I got out and slowly, so as not to spook it into traffic, walked up to it. The poor little guy was really at the end of his rope from the heat and traffic. When I got right up to him, he fell over and played 'possum. I tossed a sweatshirt over him, picked him up (they're really solid, by the way), and put him onto the grass on the other side of the concrete barrier. He immediately came to life and trundled off with out so much as a thank you. Other than squirming a little when I picked him up, he didn't act aggressive or try to bite or anything.

As much as I like skunks, I don't think I'd do the same thing for one of them. Something tells me I would regret it.

As Ms. Lay's mother was strolling thru the Ritz, these words could be heard...

"Once while strolling thru the Ritz

a girl got my goat

She nudged her friend and said,

Oh, look! There goes my old fur coat!"

She sounds an enterprising woman and quite talented...but I wouldn't have wanted the smell as I was sewing this creation!