When I was 10 years of age, Edger Smith was mid to late teens. He lived with his parents about a mile north of the Wally Smith farm.
Edgar had heard that people wanted to buy baby skunks to raise them as pets. He also heard that those same people would pay big money for the babies.
Edgar and an acquaintance named George, teamed up to ferret out a skunk den which they happened to find in the west side bank of Park Rill,which was also located on the Wally Smith farm. The bank of the creek which hid the den was fifteen feet above the level of the water so the den was quite safe, cozy and dry for those baby skunks. That is until Edgar and George discovered them.
The plan was to dig the critters out with shovels, thrust them into burlap sacks, and take them to the expectant owners to receive their reward. That there might be some unpleasant aspects to their task didn’t occur to them.
I was first alerted to the presence of the den digging activity  by the wind carried scent of skunk at mid afternoon, which is a highly unusual time for skunks to be scent active. As I looked around for the cat cousins, I heard the excited voices of young men down by the creek. Following the sound, I saw shirtless Edgar with a shovel in hand and George smoking a cigarette. Upon drawing near to them, I realized that both had been sprayed liberally by one or more skunks. I decided to keep at a safe distance. On the ground there was an empty burlap sack. Success was not quite theirs yet. They both thought they were close to capturing their prizes, but I didn’t stick around to find out.

Written as remembered by Laird Smith