The Canyoneering Trip From Smell: A Skunk Rescue — Part 2
by Mike Putiak

When we arrived at Birch Hollow Saturday morning, the wind was howling and clouds were gathering to the west, but it appeared we had sufficient time to get the job done. Our gear was packed and ready, so we were soon heading down canyon. The attitude today was clearly more focused than at the start of our earlier trips this week-more methodical. We were intent on getting to Keeper's chamber as quickly and efficiently as possible. One rappel led to another, and soon we found ourselves at the ledge directly above Keeper's chamber. Rick's fingers were crossed all morning, hoping that Keeper had survived since we saw him last.

Getting ready to face the skunk.

Peering over the edge, it was as though time had stood still. Keeper was in the exact same position as we left him, against the same cold sandstone wall, motionless, his head laid down to one side on the ground. It was as if he hadn't moved for five days. Rick whistled down to him and he lifted his head.

"Ready guys?" Rick asked. "It's show time!" Instinctively, Verlyn, Rick and I went into our traditional salute for good luck-a quasi Power Ranger, fist-against-fist circle that I can't remember how we started but that we do whenever we're facing a challenge. Some people say, "good luck" or "go for it." We do our Power Ranger circle. Go figure. It seems to work.

We verbally rehearsed our planned rescue sequence as we quickly and quietly rigged the anchor and set the rope. Rick would descend first and do a quick assessment of the Keeper's condition. Verlyn would descend second for photographs and to set the rope for our final rappel to the canyon floor. At the point that Verlyn was set on-rope for the last rappel out of the chamber, I would descend and help Rick with the Keeper capture.

It's important to know that as a child, Verlyn was sprayed by a skunk and subsequently expelled from his house until the stink wore off. Unpleasant memory aside, Verlyn now has zero tolerance for that distinctive skunk aroma. It makes him physically ill. It's also important for me to admit that I was absolutely certain that Keeper's natural defense mechanism was nonfunctional. Whether it was due to malnutrition or a broken tail caused by his fall into this chamber, I assured Verlyn that he had nothing to worry about. What more proof was required that Keeper was incapable of spraying than the fact that Rick and had I walked right past Keeper a few days earlier, at times no more than four feet away, and yet we were never sprayed? Well, regardless of whether I was right or wrong, Verlyn was reassured by my theory.

We were ready to rock n' roll. Rick rappelled into the chamber and quietly waited for Verlyn to descend. Watching from above, I could see that Keeper was a bit more active today, pacing slightly on the ledge during Verlyn's descent. How ironic that the very moment Verlyn's feet touched the chamber floor, Keeper launched the first wave of his skunk oil defense. Although attempting to remain perfectly quiet and still, Verlyn and Rick were cupping their faces and gasping as Keeper paraded on the ledge with his tail raised high, letting loose his essence time and time again. Trying to sneak by Keeper this time was futile, as each movement brought a renewed barrage of nasal assaults. Verlyn gagged his way past Keeper, through the sea of tears that flowed from his burning eyes, and frantically labored to set up the next rappel. With the anchor rigged, Verlyn went on-rope and locked off, bravely reaching for his camera to record the moment.

In the meantime, Rick was setting up my rope bag as a lure. He had initially hoped that Keeper might crawl into a well-placed, food-laden backpack. But any attempt to get close enough to situate the pack set off a full-scale stink attack. Keeper blithely traipsed over and around the opened rope bag with absolutely no indication that he would simply climb in and make things easy.

Fortunately for Rick, fresh air started flowing from above, down into the chamber where he stood. Unfortunately for Verlyn, this fresh air was forcing the foul air of Keeper's full-strength perfume attack directly toward the exit where he stood. The smell and fog were soon overwhelming, and Verlyn was compelled to escape, rappelling to the fresh air of the canyon floor below.

Verlyn's escape was my cue to descend into the chamber. By the time I arrived on the scene, it made no difference to Keeper whether we whispered or shouted. So we shouted. As Rick repositioned the rope bag once more, Keeper apparently decided he had had enough excitement for one day and started to make a break for the 60-foot drop he must have pondered a thousand times before. Surprisingly light on my feet, I leapt toward the opening and blocked the furiously running stinkball's path.

Denied his assuredly fatal escape plan, Keeper seemed to run out of juice. While staring at me intently, he froze in his tracks, directly below a small ledge in the pothole. I immediately recognized the opportunity from this fortunate placement-Keeper couldn't see Rick. As long as Keeper's head was below the ledge and focused on me, he couldn't see Rick sneaking up on him from behind. Flat on his belly, Rick started the old "army low-crawl" toward the ledge while I maintained the staring contest and informed Rick of his proximity to Keeper. As Rick got close enough see over the ledge, Keeper suddenly stood up, turned to Rick, and looked him square in the eyes.

Although their noses were only about three feet apart, he seemed relaxed. Incredibly, he turned his head back toward me and rested it on the ground. While I observed this unexpected behavior in amazement, Rick seized the moment to reach out and position his leather-gloved hand on the back of Keeper's neck, just behind the ears.

Rick had him. With Keeper's head now under his control, Rick shifted focus to his tail, attempting to keep it down and unable to spray. But whenever Rick attempted to shift his hands, Keeper responded with more aggressive attempts to bite. Wanting to subdue Keeper as gently as possible, Rick let go of his tail and regained control of his head. They went through this same routine two or three times until Keeper managed to get one of Rick's gloved fingers in his mouth. Rick managed to slip his finger out of the glove before Keeper's teeth found their mark, but Keeper still grunted and growled in victory. With his teeth now focused on the glove, he seemed to relax, and Rick was able to get hold of his body.

While Rick was working to maintain control of Keeper, I crossed the chamber, grabbed the rope bag, dumped the contents, and positioned the opening directly in front of Keeper's nose. Rick effortlessly slid our friend into the bag, the glove still held firmly in his teeth. With Keeper's entire body now inside the bag, Rick held it upright as we cinched it shut and shared a high-five.
( Verlyn's version: see box right.)

We rigged up and descended to a cheering (maybe coughing?) Verlyn below, Rick victoriously toting Keeper "in-the-bag." We were elated on our hike out of the canyon. It was hard not to smile, laugh, and reflect on our hard-won success as we hiked up Orderville and back to the vehicle. Anticipating success, we had left a sturdy plastic box in our truck for Keeper's transportation. After securing the box to the luggage rack with an abundance of webbing, and bidding farewell to our friend Verlyn, Keeper, Rick, and I took off for Kanab.

We reached our destination within an hour and were introduced to the people who would serve as Keeper's rehabilitation team. Rick and I were amazed at how comfortable these folks were with Keeper - and how relaxed Keeper seemed with them as well. True animal lovers, they shared with us their plan for Keeper's recovery and his eventual return to the wild. We returned to Springdale with a peaceful sense of satisfaction-from successfully completing our mission, from knowing that we "did the right thing," and from confidence that our little canyoneer was now in very good hands.

Nine days later we heard back from Keeper's caregivers. Keeper had spent a week rejuvenating-staying warm and eating great food. Healthy, plump, and eager to hit the trail, he was set free near the Virgin River on a warm and sunny fall morning. We were fortunate to have met this incredible survivor, and we wish him well as he begins this new chapter in his inspirational life.

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