He entertained me on the way back to town with amusing trivia about emerald tree boas, including the fact that they gave birth to live young in litters of six to fourteen, and that the newborns were not emerald green like their parents but a distinctive brick red or orange color—information I fervently hoped would never be of any practical use to me.

It was past dawn when we arrived back at the New Life Church, although the sky was still gray and overcast with the threat of more snow. Its parking lot was now half full and the crowd had swelled—although I was relieved to see that most of the newcomers appeared to be men and women carrying buckets, mops, and totes full of cleaning supplies. They were all staring at the church doors, which were flung wide open to the cold.

A gasp ran through the crowd when four men emerged from the front door, carrying what appeared to be one end of a telephone pole. They held the pole above their heads as if in triumph, and the crowd cheered in response. Then they began picking their way carefully down the front steps. The rest of the pole was slowly emerging from the church door until suddenly a large black object appeared—the skunk cage, thoroughly swathed with black tarps and supported by a huge net suspended from the pole. The men had to lift the front of the pole very high indeed to drag the cage over the top of the steps and they were moving very slowly, to avoid jarring the skunks any more than they could help. After the cage, the other end of the pole lengthened until finally four more men emerged, holding their end of the pole high over their heads.

When the black-clad cage finally reached the bottom of the steps, the crowd fell back to a respectful distance as the men carried it to a waiting flatbed truck, incongruously decorated with evergreen garlands and red ribbons. No doubt it had recently been used as the platform for one of the floats in the town’s annual holiday parade. The men lifted the cage onto the bed of the truck. More cheers from the crowd. Then another half dozen men raced over to assist with sliding the pole out of the loops at the top of the net while others threw tie-down ropes over the cage, darted forward to secure them to the bed of the truck and raced back to a safe distance.

“Take me over there,” Grandfather said, pointing to the truck. I pulled up as close as I could without interfering with the crew.