I saw a skunk while I was running the other day. A skunk! I have never seen a skunk in real life before. Other than smashed and stinking up the roadside, that is. But this one was very much alive and strolling along on the other side of the road, probably 15 feet away from me. It was fairly early in the morning, up in North Albany on a road that does have plenty of houses but is still country-ish in feel. Definitely a place where wandering wildlife would not be out of place.

I had been worried about cougars, actually. There's been so much talk about their increasing numbers lately. I've never given cougars a second thought when running, before. I usually run around the streets of Albany, where the most exciting things I've ever seen are raccoons, nutria, and dogs (and it's only the small, yippy dogs that have ever chased me.) But I had just had a conversation about cougars with my sister the day before, and read about their prevalence in the newspaper, and I'm going for longer runs now, making big loops out into the countryside. I didn't think about it at all when I headed out the door (probably because when I first start running I'm still half asleep and I have hardly any coherent thoughts at all). But then it suddenly occurred to me, after I was already miles from home, that I was out in a woodsy, hilly, rural area. And that to a cougar, I might look like a tasty breakfast.

So there I was, running along in the dim morning light, gripping my little canister of Mace and my cell phone (so that at least the 911 dispatchers would have the pleasure of listening in while a cougar mauled me), when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. I'm sure my head whipped around, and I know my pace speeded up. When I saw the little shape over by the opposite ditch, at first I thought it was a squirrel. It had a big bushy tail like a squirrel. But the more I looked, the more I realized it was too big for a squirrel. And not moving like a squirrel. And it was black.




Of course, I was glad that it was not a cougar. But skunk didn't make me feel a whole lot better. It was a very small skunk, but I'm sure it was still capable of defending itself. Have you ever smelled a skunk? What would I do if it decided I was a threat and it sprayed me? I was quite a ways from my house--it would take me forever to stagger home, all coughing and choking and stinking. And I wasn't sure any of the homeowners on this road would appreciate being woken up at dawn by a strange woman reeking of skunk smell pounding on their door and pleading for help. I didn't like the thought of spending the next few days bathing myself in tomato juice, either.

I stayed over on my side of the road, and kept moving along at a steady pace, and tried my best to look non-threatening. I was ready to bolt if it made any sudden moves, though. Could I outrun a skunk? Do skunks run fast? I was ready to try.

Suddenly the skunk raised its little head in my direction. I held my breath. And then I heard the skitter of gravel beneath its paws as it ran...

...directly away from me. It disappeared into the ditch and I never saw it again.