That Time My Toddler Tried To Pet A Baby Skunk In The Backyard

I was wearing my husband's college sweatpants with the mysterious bleach stain on the knee, holding my third cup of reheated dark roast, just staring blankly at the azalea bushes when Leo screamed, "MOMMY, SPICY KITTEN!"

I froze. It was late May. A Tuesday, I think, maybe 6:45 in the morning. My brain was operating at, like, ten percent capacity because Leo had been up since 4 AM demanding a very specific blue cup that we literally don't own. I shuffled over to where my four-year-old was crouching by the wooden lattice under our backyard deck.

There, wobbling in the damp mulch, was a tiny, fuzzy creature. It had a little pink nose and these very distinct white stripes down its back. Its eyes were barely open, like it had just woken up from a massive bender, and it was sort of squeaking.

Oh god. It was a baby skunk.

I scooped Leo up so fast I sloshed lukewarm coffee all over my slippers, which honestly was the least of my problems. My husband Dave had just left for work, and when I called him in an absolute panic, his brilliant contribution was to suggest I just spray it with the hose.

I swear to god, men have zero survival instincts.

Anyway, the point is, spring in the suburbs is supposed to be about blooming flowers and setting up the kiddie pool, not turning your backyard into a standoff with Pepe Le Pew's offspring. My sister was actually staying with us that week with her six-month-old infant, and the yard was basically a minefield of baby stuff. She had just bought this Panda Teether from Kianao. It’s fine, honestly—it’s silicone and cute and does the job when her kid is screaming from teething pain—but of course she had left it sitting on the patio table right near the danger zone. I had to stare at it through the glass door like it was contaminated. Like the skunk was going to climb up the table and rub its rabies all over the bamboo-shaped handles.

The rabies spiral of doom

So I immediately called my doctor. The receptionist politely but firmly told me they don't treat wildlife, which, fair. So then I called our vet, Dr. Evans. I’m pretty sure he screens my calls now and has me listed in his phone as 'NEUROTIC PANIC MOM', but he actually picked up.

He explained to me in this very tired, patient voice that skunks are what they call a rabies vector species. Which I think basically means they're nature’s little furry patient zeros. He said that if a human or a pet even gets scratched by one, the health department legally requires the animal to be euthanized for testing, which is horrifying on so many levels.

So yeah, you absolutely can't touch them. Not even the babies. Even if they look like they need a hug and are making pathetic little kitten noises. It's an absolute, hard no.

I was so on edge because my niece was supposed to be crawling around the grass later that day. She was wearing that Organic Cotton Baby Bodysuit that I'm literally obsessed with. Like, I buy it for every baby shower now because when my daughter Maya was little, synthetic fabrics gave her this awful rash that looked like bubble wrap. This organic cotton one from Kianao is so ridiculously soft it makes me want to shrink myself down and live in it. Plus it has these stretchy envelope shoulders that make it so easy to yank off when there's a catastrophic diaper blowout. But all I could think was, oh god, what if the spicy kitten comes back while she’s rolling around in her cute little organic outfit?

I always assumed they couldn't spray their horrible stink juice until they were adults. Like it was some sort of puberty thing. But Dr. Evans told me they can actually spray at like three weeks old. Right around the time their eyes open. And because they're babies and their nervous systems are basically just pure anxiety, they get scared easily and just let it rip without even doing that little warning stomp the adults do.

Terrifying.

Why the hose is a terrible idea

Dave kept texting me from his office being like, "Did you hose it yet?"

No, Dave, I didn't hose the highly volatile stink-bomb.

If you find one wandering around in the daylight, the mom is usually hovering nearby in the bushes judging your landscaping choices. Dr. Evans said you really only need to intervene if the thing is crying constantly for hours, feels cold, or has flies buzzing around it. Otherwise, you just leave it the hell alone and let nature do its thing.

And whatever you do, don't feed them. I guess some well-meaning neighbor on Facebook tried to give one a bowl of milk once and it caused some horrible bone disease or something. Apparently they eat bugs or whatever, I don't know. The point is, cow's milk is for cereal, not wild woodland creatures.

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Explaining personal space to a toddler

Trying to explain to Leo why he couldn't pet the black-and-white kitty was an exercise in pure futility. I told him it would make him smell like rotten eggs and garbage, and his eyes literally lit up like I had just offered him a ticket to Disney World. Four-year-old boys are disgusting.

We had totally set up the grass for the kids to have a wholesome, nature-filled morning. We even dragged the Wooden Rainbow Play Gym outside onto a blanket. Honestly, it's the most aesthetically pleasing piece of gear I’ve ever seen. It doesn't scream 'PLASTIC NIGHTMARE' like the stuff my mother-in-law buys us, and the little hanging wooden elephant is adorable, even though Maya keeps trying to steal it for her Barbie dreamhouse. It's supposed to be this calming, Montessori-inspired haven.

Instead, we were trapped inside, watching from the sliding glass door while a blind, deaf, highly fragrant rodent waddled aggressively toward the wooden play gym.

Fort Knox but for toddlers and wildlife

The whole ordeal made me realize how utterly unprepared our yard was for the realities of nature.

While we were busy making things cute with organic blankets and wooden toys, we had totally ignored the giant gaping holes under the porch.

You basically have to turn your property into a high-security prison. You have to shove wire mesh deep into the dirt around your deck and lock down your garbage cans with heavy-duty bungee cords so you don't attract pregnant momma skunks looking for a free meal. It’s exactly like baby-proofing the living room cabinets, except instead of protecting your kid from eating dishwasher pods, you’re protecting your yard from a rabies carrier.

Also, if you do have a family of them living under your shed, you can't just call a trapper in the spring. If they take the mom away, the babies just starve under your floorboards, which is honestly the most depressing thing I've ever heard in my life. You have to wait until late summer or fall when the kids move out to college or wherever skunks go, and then you barricade the entrance.

It took like three hours of me hovering by the glass door, stress-eating stale Cheerios, before the mother finally waddled out from under the hydrangeas. She aggressively grabbed her little kit by the scruff and dragged it back into the abyss under our deck. Leo was devastated that we couldn't keep it as a pet. I poured myself a fresh cup of coffee and seriously considered never going outside again.

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My Messy FAQ on Backyard Skunks

What do I do if my kid seriously touches a baby skunk?
Panic slightly, but then immediately call your doctor and your local health department. I'm definitely not a doctor, but my vet practically yelled at me through the phone that they're high-risk rabies carriers. Even a tiny scratch means you're probably going to the ER. Don't mess around with this.

When do they start spraying?
Way earlier than you think! I thought we were safe because it was tiny, but apparently, they can start crop-dusting your yard at three weeks old, right when their eyes open. And they've terrible aim and zero chill, so they'll just spray at anything that scares them.

Should I give it milk if it looks abandoned?
Oh god, no. No pet formula, no cow's milk, nothing. Their little digestive systems can't handle it and it gives them horrible metabolic issues. Honestly, the mom is probably just behind a bush waiting for you to leave. If it's crying for hours and covered in flies, call a wildlife rehabber. Don't try to play Disney Princess.

How do I get them out from under my deck?
Not right now! If it's spring or early summer, there are babies down there. If you trap the mom, the babies will die under your house, and I promise you don't want to deal with that smell or the emotional trauma. You have to wait until late summer when they're big enough to leave on their own, and then you seal up the holes with wire mesh.