That smoky skunk smell
Thanks to all who posted remedies for skunk odor. I have compiled the information in a separate file for future reference; it's only a matter of time before I get sprayed.
I still-hunt hogs after dark with a scope-mounted spotlight. The predominant species during these hours remains skunk. If I am not unwittingly walking up on one every hour or so, they are approaching me while I rest. It's truly an experience to be sitting on a hunting stool, legs outstretched, listening for animals, and have a skunk pass right under your knees (of course, minutes later I realize I've positioned myself on top of a game trail, four feet away from the skunk's hole in the ground). Thankfully, my super-duper camoflouge and secret agent stealth tactics fool the beasts into thinking I'm part of the wooded landscape.
There is only one smell worse than skunk: smoking skunk. One moonlit morning I traversed the gravel sendero leading from our cow pasture and tanks down to the Brazos riverbottom where I planned to stalk and slay my porcine quarry. Stealthily negotiating a bend in the path, and dreaming meanwhile of the glorious bacony-flavored trophy to come, I managed to confront a dreaded skunk walking toward me. He was looking for bugs to eat, I thought momentarily, but before I knew it he was upon me, not even four feet away!
Unfortunately, the only escape involved leaping sideways into a menacing mesquite thicket, or turning tail. However, by turning around and running away I would have had to run considerable distance, then wait an eternity for the casually meandering skunk to casually meander on by. Accordingly, and without further haste, I stepped back a few feet, mounted my rifle, turned on my spotlight, obtained the target through my scope, pulled the trigger, and then witnessed one of the strangest events ever to befall my eyes (and nose).
Of course I "missed" my target; a skunk is a difficult objective from a close six-to-seven feet away, particular for the shooter armed with a .30-06 scoped out for 30-50 yard shots (at night). What I did see through the lens, however, was my 180 grain bullet hitting the gravel road, producing sparks, and launching into the air a molten stream of lead about the size and dimensions of a small, plastic grub fishing worm. Time obviously had slowed down on some cosmic level, because my human eyes were able to witness the "flaming worm" ascend, and then descend, only to land squarely on the skunk's puzzled looking head. I heard commotion.
Then I ran away.
When I returned I nearly retched in the weeds. The startled skunk obviously sprayed involuntarily after being set ablaze by my molten worm of fire. The combination of burnt fur smoke and skunk juice penetrated my sinuses so severely that I almost wish I had just been sprayed in the traditional fashion, like any other average skunk victim. That smoke was too much. My boogers were lethal for days afterward. I did not shoot a pig that morning.