Ginger and the Skunk

The first time Ginger smelled the skunk, she thought something awful had happened. She wrinkled her nose. “Oh my!” she laughed. “What is that smell?”

That evening, as the sun slipped behind the trees, Ginger sat quietly on the back porch. She didn't make a sound. She didn't wiggle. She simply watched.

A few minutes later, a tiny black-and-white face peeked out from beneath the lilac bushes. The little skunk sniffed the air. Then another step. And another. Its fluffy tail stood high like a feather duster.

Ginger held her breath. “Hello,” she whispered. The skunk stopped. Its little nose twitched. For a long moment, they looked at one another. Then, very slowly, the skunk began searching through the grass. It wasn't bothering anyone. It was looking for beetles and worms to eat. Every now and then, it would stop, dig a tiny hole, and continue on its way.

Ginger smiled. “You have a job,” she whispered. She watched as the little skunk moved from one patch of grass to another, sniffing and searching. Ginger had always thought skunks were scary. She had heard people say, “Watch out for skunks!” But this little visitor wasn't looking for trouble. It wasn't chasing anyone. It wasn't growling. It wasn't trying to scare anybody. It was simply hungry and looking for supper.

Ginger began to wonder how many things in the world people were afraid of simply because they didn't understand them. Maybe being different didn't mean being dangerous. Maybe sometimes you just needed to stop... and watch.

The skunk lifted its nose one last time, then waddled toward the tall grass. Ginger smiled. “Goodnight, little skunk.” She watched until the black-and-white tail disappeared into the meadow.

From that day on, whenever someone said, “Watch out for skunks!” Ginger would smile. “They're not looking for trouble,” she'd say. “They're just hoping we'll be kind enough to let them pass.”

And every now and then, just as the sun was setting, she would catch the faintest little scent drifting through the evening air. Instead of turning away, she would smile. She knew her shy little visitor was nearby, helping the garden while the rest of the world hurried home.