My car smells like skunk.
No, I didn't run over one, thank God. But the car driving ahead of me this morning, on the country road leading to the college on the hill, did. The large, white, furry skunk was already quite dead (one of two I saw as road kill today), but it obviously retained most of its potent fragrance.
Some of its scent must have been released by the impact of the idiot driving the car ahead of me (who hits a skunk that's already dead?) and must have traveled all the way back to my car. Thus, my salsa red Scion is now impregnated with the faint stink of dead skunk.
Talk about the perils of living in the country.
Of course, Rusty and Geni couldn't be more delighted. Not by the smell of skunk, which I'm not sure any other creature enjoys. But they do love all the strange smells they get to sniff out here, which are not available in our city home.
This morning, after I'd unpacked my life once again, we went on our walk and they were pulling at their leashes, ears cocked and tails high, hoping to run into the family of deer or come across some other marvelous creature, such as the horses Rusty stared at intently on our way here.
Rusty also likes the blackest of crows, which hang out around the college on the hill. These birds are likely some of the smartest ones in creation. The ones near where I live have figured out that the cars passing under an avenue of walnut trees will crush the large, hard, green hulls and expose the soft, brown nuts for them to feast.
Thus, they hang around that part of the road in conclaves and have nut-eating conventions that Rusty loves to break up as we walk up that road. They complain and fly away but they're right back at it once we've moved on.
The sight of the crows taking advantage of the cars provides good fodder for thinking about evolution and what evolution didn't consider.
In any case, I hope the skunk smell is gone by the time I'm back in the city later this week. I'd much rather not drag my country life into my city life, if you know what I mean.
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