Still ‘Wild’ in Wildwood Crest

We moved to this fair island in June of 1974 when we had one child and a thick southern accent. One of my earliest memories is of being awoken by an odor so strong, it made me nauseous. Evidently, a family of skunks had nested under our house on Denver Avenue, and there was some dispute among them, which caused a temper tantrum or fright, and the resultant “revenge,” which stayed with us for months.
One could literally smell any one of us as we entered a room, because the odor lingered “forever.” It was almost enough to make me want to head back to Alabama where skunks stayed outside, and people were safe in their houses. Eventually, things evened out and we came to call this island our home.
I have learned over the years that we continue to share the space with wild creatures. The skunk may live under our porch, but he has to understand that he may not spray nor come on top where we claim our habitat – it’s an uneasy peace.
This summer, when all of our kids and grandchildren were here, Collin and Soledad were enjoying a late night visit on the back porch, when this summer’s resident “polecat” joined them on the top side. They made haste to retreat. For me that ended the truce, and I called animal control to remove our “tenant.”
An intrepid young woman came out to mediate the disagreement. I wanted the skunk gone, but she was more interested in letting him stay where he was familiar with the neighborhood. However, she told me that skunks detest Vicks salve, and if I would leave a plate full of it in his entryway, he would voluntarily vacate the premises.
I bought a large supply of the stuff and placed it in all the strategic places. My guess is that “our” skunk no longer has a sense of smell, because he still feels as contented as ever with our accommodations. He even pawed away the brick “fence” we erected at his front door.
Not only are there skunks, but this summer we had a Mockingbird with the most lovely repertoire of bird songs I have ever heard. Since Art and I are early risers and we have our morning coffee outside, we looked forward to his dawn serenade.
Then the children came and two couples were lodged in third floor bedrooms right by the tall chimney where the singer took his early stand. They were less enchanted with the early morning music because they thought he was in the room, perched at the head of their bed. I heard grumblings and threats about BB guns.
Mockingbirds can sometimes irritate me, as in the summer two of them spent from morning till night raucously squawking at Mosie, our cat. They made loud kamikaze-like dives whenever Mosie made a move.
By the end of the summer, Mosie needed psychological counseling. The cat and the bird have left the island.
My last “wild” adventure concerns a possum family and I warn you ahead of time it isn’t pretty. Consider this a “trigger warning.”
You may need to seek a safe space with warm milk and cookies to overcome the graphic details of this event. I do hope you are strong enough to take it.
It began with a foul odor in the back-yard.
For several days we looked for the source of it, poking under here and prodding over there, but to no effect.  Finally, on Saturday with the odor only getting stronger, we went on an all-out hunt. 
At one point, I opened the door to our outside grill, thinking maybe… well yes, that was it. I saw a sight that made both Art and me almost cry as we covered our noses.
I had found the source of the odor. A mother possum and about five babies had made their way into the bottom of the cabinet and then someone latched the door.   There was such a feeling of kinship with that poor family, as we imagined their agony of starving to death. 
Both of us were wracked with guilt over having been the cause of such tragedy. With native creatures trying to share our habitat, sometimes there is a cultural clash, but make no mistake, there is still much that is wild in Wildwood Crest.