Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Just Call Me Davey Crockett

As devoted readers will know, no one is as big an animal lover as I am. Of course, I do have my hypocrisies. I eat meat, even though I know the modern factory farm system can be brutal to animals. I don't hesitate to kill bugs. I'm not totally against hunting -- because I come from a hunting family and live in an area of the country overrun with deer -- as long as it's humane and sporting. (Neither of which describes shooting wolves from helicopters, Sarah Palin.) I say all this in the hopes you won't all gasp and clutch your pearls and think I'm crazy when I make the following confession...

It's skunk mating season, and, sadly, that means a lot of run-over mustelids who were just looking for love in all the wrong places. All the sad white-striped remains on the road remind me of a lifelong desire: I've always wanted a genuine skunk-skin cap. I don't know, maybe I saw the wrong Western at a formative moment as a child, but I always thought they were snazzy and cool. Where I would get one (because I sure as hell ain't picking up roadkill, taking it home, and skinning it) I have no idea, but dreams and practicalities don't mix, do they? It's just one of those crazy things.

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