Kvelve's Comments: An assault on our sense of smell

Something is amiss in the world of stank.

The signs are unmistakable and to a large degree unbearable.

In an era when politics have created an odor most foul indeed, the air we breathe is under assault.

Hide your nose. Wear your mask. Keep the windows up as you drive. This appears to be all out aromatic war.

Kvelve, you big goof, what on earth are you referring to?

Glad you asked! It may be a construction of my over-active mind, but it seems to me that a very high number of skunks have been meeting their maker on the highways and back roads of Western Montana.

I’m guessing this phenomenon exists elsewhere too. Our furry and stinky little friends have turned up flattened all over the place.

This needs to be studied immediately, for God’s sake now! Where is the Congressional appropriations committee? Surely they can cut loose a billion or two to get to the bottom of this crisis of nasal health.

The other day this problem came to a head, or tail if you will. While driving along Montana 200 just inside the Plains town limits, I saw the tell-tail signs ahead of an impending olfactory attack.

There, properly and recently flattened, was the black fur and white stripe we all recognize. Before I could get the windows raised, I was in the “stank zone.”

Not wanting to run over the roadkill, I did my best NASCAR maneuver and skillfully dodged the mess I did not want any of that pile of odorous former animal to get flipped onto the undercarriage of Big Red, my faithful Dodge truck.

As is almost always the case, too little, too late.

I consider myself something of a non-expert in this matter.

Years ago, when I was knee-high to a very large grasshopper, my Dad, my two brothers and I were on our once-a-year boys camping/fishing expedition to nearby Cooney Dam.

My Dad, a proud workaholic, would always consent to turning control of his grocery store over to my Mom and sister on or about Father’s Day so he could go relax, swim and fish with his boys.

On one particular trip, after a long day of swimming, skipping stones and fishing, we had settled into the back of Dad’s “Woody” station wagon to sleep in the fresh, cool air of a Montana summer night.

Suddenly, our dog, Ladybird (my parents were such devout Republicans they named the dog Ladybird as a jab at the former First Lady) began growling and sprang across the open tailgate on a dead run for the outhouse about 50 yards away.

Puzzled and still half-asleep while also wondering why the dog was heading toward something canines do not use, we heard a hissing sound following by a thick cloud out of which Ladybird came yelping and flying.

Don’t know if smell travels as fast as sound, but it didn’t take long to realize our faithful black Lab just had an encounter with at least one skunk.

Other than wondering why skunks would be in an outhouse, although the stank attracts stank thing ran through my mind, our immediate concern turned to the rather comical sight of a dog rolling around and frantically rubbing its nose with its front paws.

Yup, Ladybird…meet natures stink machine.

There are other unmistakable smells…like the stuff they put in natural gas to help you know you have a gas leak, or the mixture of beer and hard-boiled eggs “passed” in gaseous manner from a human the next day.

But this was, without a doubt, stink-ala-skunk. We spent the rest of the night throwing sticks into the lake for the dog to fetch, thinking repeated baths would cure the problem.

By daylight we were all convinced this camping trip had to be cut short.

So, with the dog in the back and four of us crammed into the front seat of our wood-paneled ride, we headed back to town. Ladybird was due a bath in tomato juice, the only known cure for stankus skunkus.

Back to this current aromatic dilemma, it sure seems to me like skunks have been “buying the farm” in record numbers this year. I think the answer could be simple.

But before sharing my theory, a special shout-out to the brave folks from the DOT whose job it can be to remove roadkill from our highways. I’ve always wondered if they carry large barrels of tomato juice with them.

At any rate, my best guess for this explosion of foul odors is that perhaps the skunks are sacrificing themselves in order to warn us of stank to come. Say, for example, socialists ever actually do get control of this country.

I can just hear Ode Colongie, that faithful cartoon sidekick of King Linus of Bongo Congo (yeah, I’m that old) admonishing us to heed the warning.

“You think things stink now,” he would say, “imagine what it will be like if the Bernie Bros get control!”

Good point Ode.

Chuck Kvelve Bandel is a reporter for the Mineral Independent and Clark Fork Valley Press. Look for his “Kvelve’s Comments” column weekly.