Friday, May 1, 2009

Why I Never Garden At Night

We have a large backyard with no lights. At various times we've had visits from deer, horses, large roaming dogs, a fox, snakes, and at one point a huge groundhog

All of this slipped my mind last night when I called the dogs in from their fenced yard, and all but one came in willingly. After much shouting and threatening, I went and got a flashlight, walked all the way to the furtherest corner of the puppy pen and dragged said puppy kicking and screaming into the house. He was very indignant and insisted he had cornered something in the yard, and I was ruining his 15 minutes of fame.

As he ran into the house, I heard *something* banging either on, or in, the greenhouse. Out in the dark.

So I came in, and yelled the magic words up to DD: "Hey, you wanna go on an adventure?"

She's gotten smarter over the years, so now she asks: "Where?"

We grabbed a baseball bat, and a plywood template for a miniature coffin lid (don't ask, just think Halloween), both to attack anything that might jump out at us, and started out to the backyard. Out in the dark.

Fortunately, DD had the bright idea to turn on the garage lights, as well as the light at the end of the garage. Which saved us from stepping on a baby possum. Apparently it's mama had left it in the grass, and said "Wait right here, and don't move an inch. I don't want to have to chase you around the yard." So the poor little thing waited right there, and found itself in the middle of the walkway, under a giant spotlight, with two giants approaching. But it listened to mama, and refused to budge.
We budged instead, going back the way we came, and all the way around the puppy pen, down the far side of the yard out to the greenhouse. I was thinking it was probably mama possum trying to either get in or out of the greenhouse, after looking there for food.

At this point we realized if it was mama out there, we had placed ourselves between her and baby. And this far out in the yard, it was pitchblack. The greenhouse door was latched, and nothing was inside, and the neighbor dogs were starting to bark and howl at us, so we backed down the yard, without encountering either mama or baby again.

DD has decided to name the baby possum Bartholomew.
It is probably unaware of this, but I think it's the perfect possum name.
***NOTE: Since we had our hands full of flashlights, baseball bats, and coffin-lids instead of cameras, these photos are from the net. Google is our friend.

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