Porcupine chasing

Once there was a particulary bothersome porcupine. This particular porkie liked to chew on the hoses of the cats. It would also chew on the seats. Our gloves. Anything. After the second time the guys had to replace the hoses on one of the cats, they started plotting the death of the critter. (In the old days, mossers and loggers used to kill porcupines for such behavior. I said, oh please don't kill it. They told me they wouldn't, but I saw the look they exchanged. The look that said, when I wasn't there, they would. I knew his days were numbered. I dedicated myself to finding a porcupine deterrent. I tried several things, including pepper. Nothing worked. There was still critter sign around the cats and tractors.
One day, I and Randolph got to the marsh first. I saw the big porcupine get off the track of one of the cats and lumber towards the woods. I went running down the incline towards the marsh where the cats were parked. The porkie was moving faster now and I realized I wasn't going to get close. Hollering, I reached down to grab a stick to throw at it, got ahold of one of those bent over but not broken ones and as I picked it up full of fury, I smacked myself right square in the forehead. I then reached down and grabbed a chunk of root that wasn't attached to anything and threw it towards the porcupine. I walked back up the hill with a red welt on my forehead to Randolph, who hadn't seen the porcupine and had no idea why I thundered down the hill hollering, to smack myself in the face with a stick.
We had no further incidents with that porcupine.