Once Upon A Possum Time

There was a girl.....

Living large on The Throne of 
Happiness (my outdoor lounger)

Life was simple. You see, I'm enjoying popsicles on my lounger, caring for all my animals on the farm, and trying (to try) to forget about any further possum encounters. You know - normal stuff. Pretending the barn wasn't a revolving door for free-loading wildlife with bad intentions.

Loving on my new foster kittens

But then.........the universe said, "You look too relaxed." 

Somehow, even after Susie Q, Jeff and Junior had come and gone, being rehomed appropriately, I had another possum show up in the barn. Big Bad Sam. Sam is not the usual midnight snack bandit. Sam had goals. 

Me

Sam had a vision board that said: "Eat. Chickens. Only."

Apparently, cat food? Beneath him but did indulge some. Chicken food? Insulting. Sam was on a high protein, farm-to-table diet....whether I liked it or not.

Tale tell signs I'm having another visitor at my Possum Airbnb? 

Cat food disappearing like it's being DoorDashed directly into a black hole. 

This was in fact happening again, so I knew I had a new visitor. Since the last few possums arrived, I've set up 3 security cameras and a new wifi extender in the barn. I have one security camera facing the main area of the barn, another facing a particular chicken roosting area that's frequented by the possums the most, and then one in the Tack Room/Cat Room watching the cat food bowls so when a chicken doesn't hit the spot, maybe some cat food will. This was all completed with questionable optimism. 

Once I begin surveillance, I felt very detective-like all of a sudden.

Night #1 The Trap Chronicles

One evening when I walked in the barn, Sam and I finally were able to met face to face, randomly mind you. His size was notable. Okay then, I thought, I'll just get you trapped and into my transport crate for rehoming. Sounded doable in my head. Confidence was at a high level due to my prior success.

But no. He ran - and fast. I've never seen a possum run so fast. I wondered if I would be able to catch him, esp because he's a hefty one. So I decided I'd first try my trap. Insert cat food inside it. Set it. Ready. Go.

I had to at least try

Sure enough, I caught something! I was watching my security cameras from the luxury of my bed throughout the night and noticed something odd and new. The chickens were all crying and fussing, as if singing a horrible song not in unison and off key. I literally hop out of bed and run to the barn in the middle of the night to find what I thought was a bob cat who seemingly filled the whole trap up with hair sticking out. Oh wait, maybe I caught Kitty, whose a orange tabby. Oh dear, I thought, and then my sleep brain told me to release her from the trap. And I released the trap door, half asleep.

But it wasn't Kitty in the trap.

My sanity was slowly packing it's bags

Before I could blink once, whatever was in the trap literally transported itself out of the barn like a ball shot out of a cannon. One blink y'all. What was it? Kitty is not that fast. And add to that, I looked up and Kitty was standing right there watching the whole show. I think I heard her say, "Wow, that was embarrassing for you."

To make matters worse, I set the trap again, went back to bed, repeat chickens crying and screaming like they just saw their taxes, and back to the barn jiggity jig I go to find I had caught my own cat, Cricket. Because, of course.     

Sleep? Absolutely not.

I'd later find out it indeed was not a bob cat, but a newly shown-up male orange tabby cat who was quite large and filled that trap til it looked like a box of hair. And yes, he was personally offended. And I'm sure is also partaking of the cat food, which is why it went in the trap. Which is fine. I feed all cats - mine, those that get dumped out here and any random cat around. Just not possums. 

Night #2 The Stake Out

Tonight, I took a lawn chair to the barn. A regular sitting lawn chair, which I thought was my commitment chair because I felt all-in in the moment. I didn't need anything fancy while I await Sam who will certainly show up any minute and then I'll trap him in a corner and get him in a crate to go bye-bye. 

I sat in that lawn chair for hours, til almost midnight, still sitting there with hay around me to hide me from Sam. I could not stay up all night and did eventually go to bed. 

I was sorry I did that. Sam showed up. Clocked in. Got a chicken and clocked out. 

Night #3 Escalation

Tonight, I took my lounger out to the barn, to sleep out there and wait for Big Bad Sam. My barn is now a mobile bedroom with livestock.  

Also included, my shot gun, ear protection and safety glasses. But after almost a full night of being out there, in the early morning hours, I got up and went in the house to bed thinking he wasn't coming. I was wrong.

Sam, watching from the shadows: "perfect timing" and another chicken gone.

I just can't

Now, it's game on.

Night #4 Operation Sam

No more Miss Nice Popsicle Lady

I have NOT wanted to shoot Sam. For 3 days I have been fretting about this. Really, I had to work myself up to thinking about it, much less actually doing it. For days I've wondered if I can shot him. 

But I would not let Sam have another chicken of mine. I was done. I was ready.

I settled in for the night in the barn, in my lounger, with my ear protection on and my safety glasses on like I'm a fighter pilot ready for it's mission. Operation Sam.

And this night? At the early hour of 9:15 pm - there's Sam. He comes strolling in the barn like he pays rent. Waltzes over to the same location of the chicken roost when he had devoured one of my favorite girlz the night before. 

Internal dialogue:

"Coming to finish your meal from last night?" as the heroine (that's me) raises my gun, walking briskly and quietly towards Sam from my recliner.

"Move, Mia, I'm about to make questionable life choices."

And Mia, she's been at my side waiting with me.
Move, Mia! Wild lady with a gun here! 

This does not seem safe

But can I?

I had The Littles locked up in the house, but Mia was with me in the barn, fully unaware she's part of a live-action Western. 

She did in fact move out of the way as she could feel my nervous energy, and stood clear of me and my gun. Smart cookie.

The suspense 😮

The doubts flood in......What if I miss? It's a 410 single-shot shot gun and if I miss, I'd have to reload and Sam would likely make a run for it. What if I shoot and hit something like the concrete or cinder block wall, and the shot ricochets and hits me? Or Mia? Or a chicken? Every scenario is playing through my mind all in this one moment. Panic sets in. I could start a barn-based action sequence I cannot finish. 

Me 😩

Then without any further thought, my mind goes completely quiet and the world around me stops. I raise the gun to my shoulder in position, aim, and then.....Sam looks up like: 

"You wouldn't."

I would.

I did. 

I hit him. One shot. Time stands still. I just shot a possum. I shot Sam. I have taken a life. 

Sam looks up at me and in slow motion opens his mouth, shows me his teeth and slowly falls to the ground like a heavy weight boxer just hit with the final blow. Then, he takes his last breathe. I start shaking uncontrollably. 

I am going to hell. Also, have made a crime scene. A big ole bloody mess. Because nobody tells you about that part. Sam's blood just starts spilling out of him like someone turned a facet on. I was in shock and awe. 

Outta control over here

It's less "clean victory" and 
 more "CSI: Barn Edition"

And to think, I just shot Sam while he was standing in the EXACT same place where I'd shot the last snake..... in that same roost spot?!?!  How can this be?! The irony was too much. 

The scene was one straight from a Dateline episode, titled: Sam, I Am. And in no way related to a Dr Seuss story. 

🚫   Skip this next photo is blood bothers you   🚫

Even while shaking, stunned and disoriented, I felt elated and relieved. 

I felt a tiny voice whisper, "Okay, but that was kinda badass." 

The deed was done. But the cleanup would be more than I expected. Do I have supplies to clean up all this? 

Don't wanna do it

Apparently I have no choice

After much effort, the blood, guts and smell were mostly gone. It would take time for it all to be gone. Maybe the smell of dead possum will keep other possums away. Because you know what? I'm pretty sure another possum, somewhere in the distance, takes one whiff of that barn and says:

"You know what? I'm gonna check Zillow."

The End.

Or at least.....until the next uninvited guests clocks in,

Cyndi Oakley 

I did it. I did that.