The Night of the Living Skunk

Doug Elliott

Doug Elliott is a naturalist, herbalist, storyteller, and musician. For more than two decades, he has traveled from the Canadian North to Central American jungles studying plant and animal life, and the wisdom of traditional peoples. He is the author of four books, including Wildwoods Wisdom: Mythic Encounters with the Natural World and Wild Roots: A Foragers Guide to Edible and Medicinal Roots, Tubers, Corms and Rhizomes. He also has a number of award-winning recordings and has published natural history articles in numerous magazines. He gives storytellings and lectures and leads workshops/hikes in natural settings. “The Night of the Living Skunk” is reproduced from Doug Elliott s book, Wildwoods Wisdom (Paragon House, Possum Productions, 1992).

One year, when I was teaching a course on edible and medicinal wild plants at a “holistic studies” center, a concurrent workshop on shaman ism created a great deal of excitement around campus. The instructor had spent many years in the South American jungles and other remote parts of the world, studying the spiritual practices and psychic healing techniques of tribal cultures, and he was trying to teach these skills modern Americans.

One of the initial steps in shamanic practice is acquiring an animal ally as a spirit guide. This animal becomes a source of power and strength that can be called upon in times of need, in everyday life as well as when one has embarked on a shamanic journey into other realms of reality.

During the first part of the week, the class members were involved in attempting to contact their individual spirit animals through meditation and guided imagery. Once the animal presented itself, each rookie shaman was to try to merge with the animal and beofcome one with its spirit. This meant not only trying to learn the lessons that their creature had come to teach, but also becoming one with the physical body of their ally and learning its movements. The mellow meditative atmosphere of the campus was transformed that week as people got more and more in touch with their animal allies. There were soaring eagles, lumbering bears, prowling cats, howling wolves, dancing cranes, breaching whales, trumpeting elephants, and even a few seals flopping about on the ground. Some days the students would show up at the dining hall with painted faces and feathers in their hair. Other times, they could be seen stalking the woods singly or in packs. At night, ceremonial bonfires blazed with eerie chanting and feverish dancing, accompanied by the ever-present pulsing of the spirit drums.

Toward the end of the week one of the class members (whom I’ll call Michael) took me aside. He seemed very preoccupied, and he had a wild look in his eyes. He said, “Doug, I know you have a strong feeling about animals and maybe you could give me some advice. I think I’ve gotten in touch with my spirit animal. I think it’s a skunk. It came to me last night, I mean, I really saw one! Tell me what you think I should do. They talked in class about Native American shamans on a spiritual quest actually hunting down and taking the life of an animal to capture its spirit power. Do you think I should kill that skunk? Maybe I should make a medicine bag from its hide."

I agreed that a fresh skunk hide would certainly be powerful and probably would make some mighty strong medicine (phew!), but I suggested that perhaps he could be more creative than simply killing it. I told him it would seem much more in keeping with his quest to spend time with the animal, study its nature, and come to know its habits and ways. A live animal could probably teach him much more than a dead one. This advice seemed to resonate with him. He thanked me. That faraway, wild look returned to his eyes and he took off back into the woods.

I did not see Michael again for a couple of years. When our paths did cross, he seemed slightly less wild-eyed. He had the same excitement about Hfe, but he seemed more centered and settled. When I referred to our last conversation about his skunk encounter, he said, “I never did tell you the whole stoiy of what happened that night, did I? ” And this is what he told me:

I was learning a lot in that shamanism class, but I was learning it in my head and not in my spirit. Whenever we’d do those meditations and try to call for our spirit animal, everybody else would get one, but nothing would come for me. I knew I had one out there somewhere, but I just couldn’t make contact. I was starting to lose sleep over it and I couldn’t figure out what to do. Well, one night (I guess it was the night before I talked to you) I was tossing and turning, so I got up for a walk. It was warm and cloudy, but the moon was nearly full so I could see pretty well. There was a mystical quality to the soft night air—like it was bearing secrets. I realized that this was the ideal time for me ,to ask again for my animal spirit ally to reveal itself. So I went to a secluded area down by the lake. I wanted to bare myself, body and soul, so I took off all my clothes and sat down with a straight spine and my legs crossed in a lotus position. I tried to quiet my mind and let my heart and spirit speak. “Hey God! ... Michael here. . . Yep, back again. Still tryin’ to get in touch with my animal spirit guide. I think I’m ready, God. My heart’s open, and I’ll just be hanging out right here.”

So there I sat, that moist night air caressing my skin, tying to keep my heart open and my mind quiet. Then I heard a noise in the bushes, a rustling in the leaves. It was some animal in there, and it was coming my way! My heart started pounding. “Uh, oh! Is this it, God? My spirit ally?” And sure enough, a little animal pokes its nose out of the bushes and looks around. It was a skunk. "Aw, come on, God. What is this, a joke? My spirit ally isn’t really a skunk! ... IS IT?” Seemingly in answer to my question that skunk headed right toward me! I wanted to get out of there quick, but I had chosen a warrior’s path and that was no way for a warrior to greet a potential spirit ally, even if it was a skunk. I took a deep breath and waited. That skunk walked right in front of me and paused. It dug in the grass, looked right at me, and then started waddling off. If that wasn’t a sign, I don’t know what was. I knew I had to follow, so I started off on my hands and knees, crawling behind that skunk, doing the best skunk walk I could. The skunk and I were making our way across the lawn, around some clumps of bushes and into some tall grass, when I heard a weird guttural moan. What was that? My heart was pounding. I could barely make it out, but there in the dusky moonlight up ahead of us was a large, light-colored, amorphous mass between two clumps of bushes. That thing was hissing ominously and undulating. The skunk was leading me right to it! I was disoriented and I was terrified, but I had chosen a warrior’s path. I had to follow that skunk and face my destiny.

Closer and closer to that ghastly thing we crawled and it took my breath away when I got close enough to see it clearly. It was a man and a woman intertwined. They were on their own journey of spiritual union. Was I embarrassed! But that skunk was headed right for them. I had to warn them. So in a loud whisper I said, “Hey, you two! There’s a skunk coming! ... Hey! There’s a skunk! It's heading right for you!”

Michael shook his head, "They didn’t even hear me,” he said. "They didn’t miss a beat. That skunk walked right around ’em and off into the thicket. I carefully backed off and tiptoed away. That was enough destiny for one night!” Michael said that when he got home, he called one of his close friends and told him about the workshop. He said he had made contact with an animal spirit ally but it was pretty confusing. When his friend asked him what animal it was, Michael said, "Now don’t laugh. It’s a skunk.”

His friend paused for a moment and said, “You know, Mike, that’s a perfect animal for you, because you really are like a skunk. You are generally an easygoing, friendly guy, but you will let people get only so close. If anyone gets too close, you piss on ’em! ” Michael thought about the events of his life, about his recent divorce, and about his other relationships. He realized that he really did have much to work out regarding issues of intimacy. When he had accepted that skunk as an ally, it took him on a journey to confront (quite literally) that which he feared most—the deep intimacy between a man and a woman.

Michael did a lot of personal work after that. He went for counseling and on vision quests. He worked hard with his ex-wife on healing some of the wounds left by their divorce. They might not be completely reconciled, but they do have a good understanding of each other and completely share the parenting of their child. He volunteers at his child's school and is probably more a part of his child’s life than many married fathers.

Michael says he is learning to give of himself more deeply and is more willing to accept intimacy and closeness in his relationships. "But people who are close to me know,” says Michael, "that sometimes my tail still goes up. And when it does, they’d better look out!”

that can be called upon in times of need, in everyday life as well as when one has embarked on a shamanic journey into other realms of reality.

During the first part of the week, the class members were involved in attempting to contact their individual spirit animals through meditation and guided imagery. Once the animal presented itself, each rookie shaman was to try to merge with the animal and become one with its spirit. This meant not only trying to learn the lessons that their creature had come to teach, but also becoming one with the physical body of their ally and learning its movements. The mellow meditative atmosphere of the campus was transformed that week as people got more and more in touch with their animal allies. There were soaring eagles, lumbering bears, prowling cats, howling wolves, dancing cranes, breaching whales, trumpeting elephants, and even a few seals flopping about on the ground. Some days the students would show up at the dining hall with painted faces and feathers in their hair. Other times, they could be seen stalking the woods singly or in packs. At night, ceremonial bonfires blazed with eerie chanting and feverish dancing, accompanied by the ever-present pulsing of the spirit drums.

Toward the end of the week one of the class members (whom I’ll call Michael) took me aside. He seemed very preoccupied, and he had a wild look in his eyes. He said, "Doug, I know you have a strong feeling about animals and maybe you could give me some advice. I think I’ve gotten in touch with my spirit animal. I think it’s a skunk. It came to me last night, I mean, I really saw one! Tell me what you think I should do. They talked in class about- Native American shamans on a spiritual quest actually hunting down and taking the life of an animal to capture its spirit power. Do you think I should kill that skunk? Maybe I should make a medicine bag from its hide.”

I agreed that a fresh skunk hide would certainly be powerful and probably would make some mighty strong medicine (phew!), but I suggested that perhaps he could be more creative than simply killing it. I told him it would seem much more in keeping with his quest to spend time with the animal, study its nature, and come to know its habits and ways. A live animal could probably teach him much more than a dead one. This advice seemed to resonate with him. He thanked me. That faraway, wild look returned to his eyes and he took off back into the woods.

I did not see Michael again for a couple of years. When our paths did cross, he seemed slightly less wild-eyed. He had the same excitement about life, but he seemed more centered and settled. When I referred to our last conversation about his skunk encounter, he said, "I never did tell you the whole story of what happened that night, did I?" And this is what he told me: