little
shanty still to be seen, opposite Yancey's, I lost no opportunity of
making animal investigations. One of my methods was to sweep the dust on
the trail and about the cabin quite smooth at night so that any creature
passing should leave me his tracks and I should be sure that they were
recent.

[Illustration]

One morning on going out I found the fresh tracks of a Skunk. Next night
these were seen again, in fact, there were two sets of them. A day or so
later the cook at the nearby log hotel announced that a couple of
Skunks came every evening to feed at the garbage bucket outside the
kitchen door. That night I was watching for them. About dusk one came,
walking along sedately with his tail at half mast. The house dog and the
house cat both were at the door as the Skunk arrived. They glanced at
the newcomer; then the cat discreetly went indoors and the dog rumbled
in his chest, but discreetly he walked away, very stiffly, and looked at
the distant landscape, with his hair on his back still bristling. The
Skunk waddled up to the garbage pail, climbed in, though I was but ten
feet away, and began his evening meal.

[Illustration]

Another came later. Their tails were spread and at each sharp noise rose
a little higher, but no one offered them harm, and they went their way
when they were filled.

After this it was a regular thing to go out and see the Skunks feed when
evening came.

PHOTOGRAPHING SKUNKS AT SHORT RANGE

I was anxious to get a picture or two, but was prevented by the poor
light; in fact, it was but half light, and in those days we had no
brilliant flash powders. So there was but one thing to do, that was trap
my intended sitters.

Next night I was ready for them with an ordinary box trap, and even
before the appointed time we saw a fine study in black and white come
marching around the cow stable with banner-tail aloft, and across the
grass toward the kitchen. The box trap was all ready and we--two women
including my wife, and half a dozen men of the mountaineer type--were
watching. The cat and the dog moved sullenly aside. The Skunk, with the
calm confidence of one accustomed to respect, sniffed his way to the box
trap with its tempting odorous bait. A Mink or a Marten, not to say a
Fox, would have investigated a little before entering. The Skunk
indulged in no such waste of time. What had he to fear--he the little
lord of all things with the power of smell? He went in like one going
hom