We have about 30 chickens and enjoy farm raised eggs very much. Our chicken pen has a fenced in yard made of chicken wire and a laying box with a lid that is accessible from outside the pen. So as usual I opened the box lid to pick up the eggs and what did I see--A SKUNK! I shut the lid and ran. Now what do I do? A skunk is in the chicken pen/box!
You can't herd a skunk! You can't coax a skunk! You can't rope a skunk! You can't do ANYTHING with a skunk! They eat eggs and kill small chickens. From my country raising, I know that if I shoot it, I must shoot it in the head. If I miss and wound it, the spray will be on me and in the chicken pen for a long time. For those who do not know, skunk scent is almost impossible to get off of you. What to do?? So I call my brother Randall who has all kinds of birds and has run into all kinds of problems. I ask him what to do? He says..."If you shoot it in the head it won't spray". To which I reply, "Really." Now this is Saturday. I'm due to preach Sunday morning. I'm already formulating messages like, "This is what our self righteousness smells like to God". Maybe I can use Ecclesiastes 10:1 "Dead flies cause the ointment of the apothecary to send forth a stinking savor: so doth a little folly him that is in reputation for wisdom and honour." It is funny now, but it was no laughing matter at the time. I don't know how the skunk got in the pen. Skunks are nocturnal so he is not coming out. I believe in taking all our concerns to the Lord. "Dear Lord, It's me again. I know there is nothing too hard for you. Please help me get this Skunk out of the Chicken box." Slowly the way out of this dilemma came to me with certainty. What I need to do is... Shoot the skunk in the head. Now for all you animal lovers out there, of which I am one, understand that this critter has eaten my eggs and already killed one chicken. So is your sympathy going to go to the innocent chicken or the "Stinking skunk!" No contest--Chickens must live, predator skunk must die! So with rifle in hand I head to the war zone. Within 30 feet of the enemy I can already smell the horrible stench of battle. The say all folks call upon God when headed into battle. Now I know it's true. But there is a logistical problem with my battle plan. The moment the egg laying box lid is lifted, I could be attacked by chemical weapons! I knew I should have purchaased that gas mask at the army navy surplus when it was on sale. Now I have no protection. It's times like this that separates the men from the boys. I ease upon the enemy, lift the box lid---and run! Slowly I creep back upon the enemy. Rifle ready..easy now. I spot him! He hasn't sprayed. Thank you Lord. "Now in all this excitment I'm not sure I loaded the rifle. "Do you feel lucky PUNK SKUNK? WELL DO YA?" Carefully I aim. Easy now, squeeze the trigger, fire between heart beats, wait for breath to exhale. If I am off by 2 inches I will surely be wounded! Careful..NOW!..POW! Run, Run Run Run Run away as far as possible. Whew! I escaped unscathed. When it comes to skunks in the Chicken pen. The rule is always--Take no prisoners. I ease back to the scene of the battle field and find that this old soldier has still got it! One perfect shot has taken the enemy painlessly out!
Now what. I have a dead skunk in my chicken box. A mop up operation must be executed. Though he has not sprayed, Skunks carry a lighter scent that can still get in your clothing and hair. The longer time you spend in proximity the more it permeates. So I check the wind. I want to enter from the up wind side. As I near the box with a plastic bin and long handled shovel, the wind suddenly changes direction. Run! I approach from a new direction and quickly place the dead skunk in the plastic container and snap on the lid. The odor is still emanating from the plastic box. I can't stay near it very long. Some of the clothes I have on now will need to be burned. I take 30 feet of rope, ease up, lasso the box, and begin dragging it far from the house into the woods. It is on my farmer neighbor's property. I shall now have to go to him and plead mercy. The box will need to remain at least a year before I can remove it. Toxic waste. I'm sure he will understand. I rush back to the house. Strip and dispose of the toxic clothes. I take a very long shower. I dress and sit in my easy chair trying to regain my sanity. I may need some therapy. "Post Traumatic Stress Disorder." Will I have nightmares. Will I be able to interact socially again. I hope I don't need medication. OH THE AGONIES OF WAR! I'm still shaking. I keep telling myself--- I am OK. I am OK. I am OK. In a few weeks I'm sure I'll find a good sermon illustration in here somwhere.
You can't herd a skunk! You can't coax a skunk! You can't rope a skunk! You can't do ANYTHING with a skunk! They eat eggs and kill small chickens. From my country raising, I know that if I shoot it, I must shoot it in the head. If I miss and wound it, the spray will be on me and in the chicken pen for a long time. For those who do not know, skunk scent is almost impossible to get off of you. What to do?? So I call my brother Randall who has all kinds of birds and has run into all kinds of problems. I ask him what to do? He says..."If you shoot it in the head it won't spray". To which I reply, "Really." Now this is Saturday. I'm due to preach Sunday morning. I'm already formulating messages like, "This is what our self righteousness smells like to God". Maybe I can use Ecclesiastes 10:1 "Dead flies cause the ointment of the apothecary to send forth a stinking savor: so doth a little folly him that is in reputation for wisdom and honour." It is funny now, but it was no laughing matter at the time. I don't know how the skunk got in the pen. Skunks are nocturnal so he is not coming out. I believe in taking all our concerns to the Lord. "Dear Lord, It's me again. I know there is nothing too hard for you. Please help me get this Skunk out of the Chicken box." Slowly the way out of this dilemma came to me with certainty. What I need to do is... Shoot the skunk in the head. Now for all you animal lovers out there, of which I am one, understand that this critter has eaten my eggs and already killed one chicken. So is your sympathy going to go to the innocent chicken or the "Stinking skunk!" No contest--Chickens must live, predator skunk must die! So with rifle in hand I head to the war zone. Within 30 feet of the enemy I can already smell the horrible stench of battle. The say all folks call upon God when headed into battle. Now I know it's true. But there is a logistical problem with my battle plan. The moment the egg laying box lid is lifted, I could be attacked by chemical weapons! I knew I should have purchaased that gas mask at the army navy surplus when it was on sale. Now I have no protection. It's times like this that separates the men from the boys. I ease upon the enemy, lift the box lid---and run! Slowly I creep back upon the enemy. Rifle ready..easy now. I spot him! He hasn't sprayed. Thank you Lord. "Now in all this excitment I'm not sure I loaded the rifle. "Do you feel lucky PUNK SKUNK? WELL DO YA?" Carefully I aim. Easy now, squeeze the trigger, fire between heart beats, wait for breath to exhale. If I am off by 2 inches I will surely be wounded! Careful..NOW!..POW! Run, Run Run Run Run away as far as possible. Whew! I escaped unscathed. When it comes to skunks in the Chicken pen. The rule is always--Take no prisoners. I ease back to the scene of the battle field and find that this old soldier has still got it! One perfect shot has taken the enemy painlessly out!
Now what. I have a dead skunk in my chicken box. A mop up operation must be executed. Though he has not sprayed, Skunks carry a lighter scent that can still get in your clothing and hair. The longer time you spend in proximity the more it permeates. So I check the wind. I want to enter from the up wind side. As I near the box with a plastic bin and long handled shovel, the wind suddenly changes direction. Run! I approach from a new direction and quickly place the dead skunk in the plastic container and snap on the lid. The odor is still emanating from the plastic box. I can't stay near it very long. Some of the clothes I have on now will need to be burned. I take 30 feet of rope, ease up, lasso the box, and begin dragging it far from the house into the woods. It is on my farmer neighbor's property. I shall now have to go to him and plead mercy. The box will need to remain at least a year before I can remove it. Toxic waste. I'm sure he will understand. I rush back to the house. Strip and dispose of the toxic clothes. I take a very long shower. I dress and sit in my easy chair trying to regain my sanity. I may need some therapy. "Post Traumatic Stress Disorder." Will I have nightmares. Will I be able to interact socially again. I hope I don't need medication. OH THE AGONIES OF WAR! I'm still shaking. I keep telling myself--- I am OK. I am OK. I am OK. In a few weeks I'm sure I'll find a good sermon illustration in here somwhere.
