Varmint Control

I WASN’T TRYING TO SCARE YOU.

I HAD TICKS BETWEEN MY LITTLE TOES.**

You may see me and step back.

Black fur.
White stripe.
Tiny paws.
A smell you fear before I even move.

And the human story begins too fast.

Skunk.
Danger.
Spray.
Stay away.

But I am only a baby.

A baby with feet too small for the pain I am carrying.

Between my little toes, ticks can hide where almost no one thinks to look. They cling in the soft spaces, drink, swell, irritate, and make every step feel wrong. I cannot reach them properly. I cannot explain what hurts. I cannot ask in words.

So I shuffle.
I cry.
I curl my paws.
I become one more wild baby people are afraid to help.

But I am not a joke.
I am not a smell.
I am not a nuisance with a stripe.

I am a small life that belongs to the night.

And one day, if I survive, I may become part of the quiet cleanup crew most people never thank.

Skunks eat insects.
They dig for grubs.
They may raid wasp and hornet nests.
They help turn “pests” into dinner in the dark.

But today, I am not a pest controller.

Today, I am just a baby with parasites hurting the soft places between my toes.

So if you find an orphaned, injured, weak, or strangely exposed baby skunk, do not panic.
Do not grab me with bare hands.
Do not try to raise me as a pet.
Do not pull at ticks if you are unsure what you are doing.
Keep pets and children away.
Place a safe distance between us and danger.
Call a licensed wildlife rehabilitator or local wildlife rescue for instructions.

Because fear makes people look at my stripe first.

But compassion looks lower.

At the tiny feet.
At the hidden pain.
At the baby animal asking for help in the only way she can.

I wasn’t trying to scare you.
I had ticks between my little toes — and I needed someone brave enough to see the baby before the smell.