The Skunk Project

by Derek Wallentinsen

My town is San Pedro, California, south of Los Angeles and near the southern coast of the Palos Verdes Peninsula. I live in a community on the western edge, bordered by a park to the west, ocean bluffs to the south, undeveloped hillsides to the north and the city to the east. In our group of houses are trees, shrubby slopes and various manmade things like drainage channels and pipes. Speed limit inside the gate is 15mph, there are few lights, few dogs and cats. It's quiet, too. This is a good habitat for these eco-exploders to invade.

Of course, we smelled them before we saw them. Pungent, rubbery, cloying gas unique to skunks. The odor clouds wafted down our driveway, infiltrating our windows, penetrating chinks in the wall armor.

First visual contact occurred not too long after first nasal contact. My wife was conversing with a visitor in our driveway in the late afternoon when a skunk moseyed on by within 4 feet of their feet. They didn't move, the skunk kept on moving and everyone got off scot-free.

That was summer 2002. It was the beginning of The Skunk Project, an adventure in imaging, the sense of smell and strange affection for the mammal known scientifically as Mephitis mephitis.

Not so strange love actually. Take Chuck Jones, creator of Bugs Bunny, Wile E. Coyote, Daffy Duck and most importantly, Pepé Le Pew. Chuck, in his brilliance as animator and consummate blender of character and empathy, endowed Pepé with attributes comical, romantic, human and yes, skunk.

To honor Messrs. Jones y Le Pew and to appeal to our own aesthetic and humorous senses, we dubbed our skunks with the scientific binomial Pepé palosverdiana, or just pepids for short.

Yes, it was love, cherie! We soon were charmed by the evening visitations, RSVPs usually in the form of shutting windows and doors for the brief affair. Once a youngster and I met in darkness out near the garbage. Startled by the secret rendezvous, we each sprang back six feet, looked at each other carefully before parting. Fortunately, it was not scentimental!

Skunks are near-sighted and generally shy. So they like to come out at night or in low light. We began to see them crossing the road in front of our house from our dining room during twilight. Entertainment with our food. I started to want more. I jumped up to see where they were headed: north of our house up the hill. Then came the desire to get it on film.

It was a challenge that went beyond excusing myself from the table and a good meal to leap out the door and give chase. (Just the opposite from the "reel" life Pepé, who was the pursuer!) Usually the sun was down and the skunks were in motion. Many of my early shots were merely grayish blurs of the south ends of pepids going north.

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Now the gallant gauntlet was thrown: how to get better shots? Pepé was so elusive! Well, I had been using 800-speed film and a fast 50mm (f/1.4) or 135mm (f/2.5) lens. If I could either get more light (flash setup!) or get the animals to slow down or stop....

My triumph happened this way. Dining pleasures in late daylight. Then - pepid! Dash to the porch with the ready camera and the telephoto lens. Alas, I was already too late. The skunk was past the porch, heading towards the end of the open space by the rock marking the bottom of the hill. Just another rotten rump shot.... I closed to ten feet.

"Pssssst!" Was I crazy? I started to make noises at the black and white beast. I could get sprayed! But it stopped dead in its tracks instead. Rear end prominently displayed. I took a shot. 

The skunk slowly turned around, acting curious. I took several more pictures. Pepé was calm and collected, I was a bit more excited.

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