#kingofthewoods

Sneak peek of my new upcoming short.

    It was story telling time and the men about the camp fire were discussing the rank which wild animals hold among themselves, telling all sorts of yarns to prove that some particular beast was emperor of the Northern forests. The relative fighting merits of panthers, bob cats, enraged bucks and uncertain tempered bears had been gone  over when an old guide who had been smoking in silence injected the question:     “How about skunks?”     Undisturbed by the shout of laughter that greeted this question, he continued:    “You can laugh all you like, but I guess that none of you would care to tackle a skunk if one strolled into camp just now, and animals is just like humans when it comes to that sort of a pussy. The skunk doesn’t worry much about who’s the animal king in the district where he picks out his home. And when he walks down a trail he owns that pathway and don’t you make any mistake. It doesn’t matter how hungry any of the big fellows may be, they leave the skunk alone and when they meet him ambling along they go the long way round.     “So far as I’ve observed no animal preys on the skunk unless it’s when he’s very young and away from mama and papa, so I make a guess that unless a man comes along with a gun or sets a trap for him the skunk must live to a ripe old age.     “Of course a dog will tackle a skunk. Dogs is like folks and needs a lot of experience to teach them sense. But there’s only a few dogs that’ll try a skunk hunting twice.     “And just look how human folks treats skunks. Suppouse one should come along now and get mixed up with the camp stuff before you noticed. I don’t guess that you’d any of you care to drive him away with a stick, like Jim Bellows says he did the big bear that come nosing about his camp last year.     “Out West I’ve heerd that skunks goes mad and poisons folks with their bite, but I don’t guess that anybody up here would let a skunk get near enough to bite him. Why—”     But just then the guide stopped debating and with a look in which surprise and amusement were mingled pointed to the leeward side of the fire, where the pack baskets had been left. There in the firelight walked a small black and white striped creature with a sharp, knowing face. The animal was finished off with a fine bushy tail, which it carried proudly aloft.     It didn’t appear to be disturbed by the proximity of the campers, but leisurely nosed about among the food supply and presently pulled out a side of bacon and began to eat daintilly.     “There goes the bacon,” whispered the guide, “and now’s the time for somebody to show he isn’t afraid.”     But nobody moved. The campers sat in mournful silence, broken only by the subdued chuckles of the guide, until the skunk had satisfied its hunger and had gone away. And there was no protest when the guide remarked:     “I guess he’s the king o’ the beasts hereabouts all right.” ————————————————– The sun. (New York [N.Y.]), 08 Oct. 1911. Chronicling America: Historic American Newspapers. Lib. of Congress.