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It was sunset and I was busy making dinner on the camp stove while my travel buddy napped off his migraine in the tent. It was a gorgeous September evening in New Mexico - the air was warm and still, the sky was a blaze of pinks and golds and I could hear birds chirping to each other as they settled in for the evening. I finished chopping a carrot, scraping the pieces into the pot and stirring it. A great night to be...

Movement out of the corner of my eye derailed my thought.

"Jooooohn?" I asked, keeping my voice low but hopefully pitched loud enough for my Native Guide to hear. "What's the rules on skunks again?"

"Stay still, don't make any sudden movements and no loud noises," came the sleepy, slightly grumpy response.

Stay still, no sudden movements, no loud noises. I could do that. I froze as the critter waddled over and started sniffing my boots. He was quite big, about the size of a large housecat, holding his tail proudly in the air. If it hadn't been for the threat of horrible stink, I might have bent down to scritch him between the ears, he was so cute.

John's voice came from the tent again. "Um, why did you ask that?"

My friend got bored with my bootlaces and the lack of sustenance from them and waddled off, seeking greener pastures. Or less-tidy campsites. I watched him go and let myself breathe again.

"Oh, no reason."
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Rossi

November 2010

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