Another Possum

Y'all aren't gonna believe it, but there was another possum. ICYMI, here’s the story about my first encounter with a possum: The Possum.   Recently, there was another possum in our yard.  I had to deal with this possum, and it was not an enjoyable event at all. The creature that lives around our neck of the woods is actually called the Virginia Opossum, but we call him possum.  As far as I am concerned, you can just get him out of here—carry him back to Old Virginny.

Eariler in the day, Rob was looking out the back window to see what might be moving around in the woods. From our elevated vantage point we can look out over a large span of woods behind our house. The woods are usually alive with animals. But what Rob saw was not in the woods, it was smack dab in the middle of our yard, on the lawn inside our fence-- a big ole nasty possum. Go ahead - tell me all the good things about the marsupial-- I'll stand here while you get it out of your system. Ok, are you done? I DO NOT like possums. They creep me out with their white faces & pointy pink noses & long naked tales. I mean, really?

I was not able to take actual pictures, but, if you think for one minute that these creatures might be cute, then you need to look again....

What about this one?

Or this one?

If you don’t see the ugly, then you need to get your eyes checked. And, I might have to tell you how I really feel.

Anyway, this dude was standing in our yard sniffing around in broad daylight. From the window, I took one look at him and said "Something's wrong with him, he ain't right." Rob said, “It's just a possum.” I said “I think he's dying.” Then we both went about our business ignoring the fact that this most disgusting creature was crawling around within reach. The rest of the afternoon I glanced outside from time to time to check on the status of the intruder. At last, finally, he vanished from the site, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

A few hours later, I returned home from an errand & Rob informed me that he had gone outside with our dog Jazz, and found the possum dead in our yard. After I finished saying "Ewwwwwwwwwwwww", he informed me that we should chuck the body over our fence and out into the woods. Only, see, there was a problem, because Rob had just had minor eye surgery that day & the doctor had clearly instructed him not to do yard work of any kind or lift more than 20 pounds. I thought really hard about it and decided that chucking a possum over the fence probably violated both of those rules. That's how I found myself agreeing to go take care of business. I mean, Rob usually handles the messy stuff around the house and yard without blinking an eye. I've got my responsibilities, and I do them well. He's got his responsibilities, and he does them well. But, knowing that circumstances had changed, I let out a great big sigh and headed down to the garage to get the shovel and then out to the yard to meet the enemy. I was SO not prepared for what happened next.

Possy was lying on his side, grinning, eyes wide open. If you are thinking of making a horror movie, this would be the perfect villain. It was creepy with a capital C. Dis----gust----ing!!! I shuddered. I ran around to get behind it so that I couldn't see it's taunting face. Then I pushed the shovel to scoop up under it. But the dang thing was very big and very floppy and very resistant to shovel movement. I tried and tried to scoop him up, but he didn’t want to cooperate.

I didn’t know what to do. But I did know that the only thing that would make it better was if I yelled while I did it. So that’s what I did. Yell. Loudly. I yelled “No No No!” I yelled “I can’t do this!” I yelled “Ughhhh.” I yelled “Eeeeew!” I yelled “Help me, help me!” I yelled “I can’t believe I’m doing this!” I yelled “Ahhh-Ehhh-Ahhh-Ehhh!” I bounced up & down. I shuddered. I squirmed.

Avoiding Possy's cold dead eyes, I tried and struggled to push, wiggle, slide, and reposition, until finally I got the shovel leveraged under him. Then, I lifted the shovel, feeling the whole weight of the heavy carcass. It was definitely heavier than 20 pounds. It strained my arms as I pushed forward lumbering towards the fence. With all my strength & eyes closed, I gave a great big Heave-Ho and swung the shovel to fling Possy way out over the fence.  He went over, but he didn't go very far. I put away the shovel and ran back inside the house as fast as I could, completely flustered. Rob took one look at me and asked with a concerned voice, ”Are you ok? Wait, are you crying?" I said, "Just a little." And then I tried to shake the whole thing off and wipe the vision of Possy’s face out of my mind. Geez to the Louise, that was tough.

I know that sometimes you have to do these things. Like, when you are an adult and you have to change a messy diaper. Or clean up throw-up. Or clean up after your sick pet. Or clean the flooded basement. Or clean moldy fruits & veggies out of the frig. All of those gross things that make you cringe. I could barely handle this task—the disposal of the possum carcass. But, they made me do it. Mission accomplished. Sometimes ya gotta do whatcha gotta do.

A few days later, as the possum carcass stayed right there outside of our fence, an enormous Red-Tailed Hawk discovered it. I've seen Red-Tailed Hawks before, but this was the biggest hawk I have ever seen. Mega-Hawk. He was stately, muscular, and he looked like he meant business. To get a better view, we used binoculars to watch Hawky inspect the body. He tried boldly to grasp it in his talons and pull. He mistakenly thought he might be able to lift it off the ground, but, even with his mighty muscles, he could barely budge it. So, Hawky began to feast. For several days, we saw Hawky come back for a gruesome meal, staying alert for predators. But, Hawky seemed to be the only one interested. He returned again and again. As of this writing, much of Possy is still there. We will have to wait and see if there are any more developments. The Circle of Life, and all.

I've had 2 particularly unnerving encounters with possums. I'm not sure why it affects me so. Maybe it's their tricky nature-- are they playing possum, or are they really dead? Maybe it's their scrubby body or their rat-like tail. Maybe it's their face. That face, with its eyes, and its nose, and its mouth, which is curved in a perpetual sneer of "heh-heh-heh", even in death. Uughhh.

Don't worry about me, I'll get over it soon. As long as I don't have to ever touch that shovel again. Or see it. Here, somebody move it to the other side of the garage, please. And how bout we don't talk about it, either. No more shovels for me. Too many memories attached to it. I'm not in the mood for a horror movie either. I’m afraid the villain would remind me of the creepy possum visage. Bad memories, bad memories.

I need to get a new image in my mind’s eye. I think it’s time for me to look for videos of cute puppies and kittens.  Send em my way, please.