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Playing Possum

December 10th, 2010

Being a full-time artist and taking care of various critters can be a challenge at times. Luckily Eric helps me out a great deal with our animals, making it a bit easier. Recently however, I was headed home from a craft fair and he was still at work. Behind the heavy clouds the sun was setting and I was hurrying home in the rain to get the chickens and ducks locked up before dark. When I’m home, I let them free-range over our property, but when I’m away they stay in their fenced-in yard to protect them from stray dogs and coyotes. The fence doesn’t stop raccoons or possums who can climb right over, so the birds are locked up- chickens in the chicken house and ducks in their pen- when night falls.

This particular night I pulled in the driveway just at dusk. I stumbled over various cats in the house, found the flashlight and went out through the pouring rain to the chicken house. All was quiet inside when I opened the door and flipped on the lights to do a head count. I did a quick step back when the light revealed the huge possum who now stopped mid-step in the middle of the floor. Instantly the carnage of the stray dog chicken massacre of earlier this year sprang to mind and I looked for injured birds. They were all fine, just a little ruffled that I had turned on the light. “You get out of here!” I yelled at the possum who simply looked vaguely in my direction. “Out!” I rattled the metal feed can loudly. He gave a start, and slowly turned towards the little chicken door. I hissed, sssssssittt! That did the trick and he ran out as fast as his little legs could carry him.

Only now he was out in the fenced yard, where the ducks were still wandering around enjoying the new mud puddles. Hurriedly I shut the chicken door and ran out to defend my ducks. I might just mention that this  heavy rain came after a long period of drought. Little moles and such had easily tunneled here and there through the dry earth, and now those tunnels were hidden booby traps to any poor human unlucky enough to step on them. Like me. So now I was slogging around in the rain (did I mention it was raining? And very cold too) and in the dark, keeping an eye out for the huge possum and trying not to twist an ankle.

The ducks love water and even though it was pitch dark now, they were in no mood to go into their pen. The freaked out possum running along the fence trying to find his way out spooked them and they ran around quacking loudly, slipping in the mud. I opened the little gate in the fence and the possum headed for it. I finally got the six ducks rounded up and secure in their pen. I was freezing, my feet were wet and the rain was still coming down in icy buckets. Back through the chicken house I went, stopping to count heads. 21. One chicken was missing. It was the little Golden Compine- a small hen, light enough to be able to fly short distances and known to be able to get over the fence when she pleased. She could be anywhere. I went out to shine my flashlight around and found her perched on top of the duck pen roof.

Keep in mind I’m now on the outside of their fenced yard, as is the possum (remember the possum? Big scary guy), it’s dark and still, yep, you guessed it, still raining cats and dogs. The roof of the duck pen butts up against the fence and I could just reach the little wet hen. This is also where the water from the chicken house was running off the roof, pretty much right down my back. I wasn’t a hundred percent sure where the possum was at this point. I really just wanted to get back inside the house, change clothes and have a hot cup of tea. As I reached for the little hen, she of course backed away. She squawked and flapped her wings. I’m not sure where the flashlight was at this point, but I did catch a glimpse of the possum out of the corner of my eye just as I grabbed the wayward hen. More squawking and wing-flapping ensued and she got herself loose, but then landed on my head. I figured this would be when the possum would take the opportunity to bite my ankles, but he decided things were getting just too crazy for him, and headed off into the night. I bent over, trying to dislodge the hen from my head. She now hopped onto my back and I prayed she wouldn’t poop on my favorite green corduroy jacket. Into the chicken house I stumbled and shook her off on to the roost amongst the other birds, who gave a collective protest then settled down.

Back through the mud and the rain I went, keeping a wary eye out for the possum, who by now was probably safe and dry back in his own home. Ahhh, a cup of tea was never so satisfying as that one. And life on the farm is never dull.

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