Mystery Solved!

Well the Mysterious Mystery of the Midnight Marauder has been solved.

Spoiler: It wasn’t a skunk.

Double Spoiler: It wasn’t a bunny either.

I mean, I did get some video of a bunny scampering by the first night I put out the GoPro and this did make Opie think he had called it. And I had some pretty deep-seeded concerns that I would have to admit he was right all along.

But then this morning all was revealed.

I got up around 5:30, like I always do, and took the dogs out back. Again, like I always do.  But I knew immediately that something was wrong, that the jig (or critter) was up because instead of going into the yard, the ridiculous dogs ran around the deck, sniffing and scratching, scratching and sniffing, and generally causing a ruckus.  Sassy ran back over to the area in front of the back door and, just like a few days ago, began digging and barking at the flooring.

I snatched her up and got her inside only to realize that Bubba had darted off the porch and was charging across the yard exactly like a dog who doesn’t realize he’s 14 and should therefore have his critter hunting days behind him.

So, I grabbed a flashlight (it was 5:30, people, it was still pretty dark!) and charged out after him exactly like a woman who doesn’t realize she’s not so young herself and should therefore have her critter hunting days behind her.

Then, when I caught up with the Bub, I realized he was pawing and nudging this big lump of fur with his nose. And, at first, I was horrified because I thought that he had killed a bunny.

Until I took a step closer and saw it wasn’t a bunny at all. It was a possum!

In related news, as I was writing this blog I started wondering if it was opossum or possum or both and, being the research nerd that I am, immediately stopped writing so I could find out.

This, in case you're wondering,
is a phalanger.

According to the Merriam Webster Dictionary, both are correct when referring to the marsupial that meanders around North America. It’s interesting to note that in Australia and New Zealand, there is a similar creature referred to as a possum that is actually a phalanger. Seeing as this blog is written in North America, that’s probably not relevant but honestly, I just can’t help myself. Anyway, what is relevant is that in the US, possum is the common usage while scientific journals etc. prefer opossum.  However, when referring to the act of lying on the ground pretending to be dead, the expression is always “playing possum” not “playing opossum” Probably because alliteration is awesome.

In any case, now you all know all you’ve ever wanted to know about the etymology of possum, opossum, and phalanger.

You’re welcome.

But, to get back to the overall point, I ran over to the side yard, saw the poor possum lying on its side, mouth gaping open, and had to literally wrestle Bubba away from it and in the house.

Then I ran back outside…I’m honestly not 100% sure why. I mean, Opie is usually firmly in charge of carcass removal. But he was up most of the night working and I was trying to let him sleep a little later and I guess I thought I was going to see if there was anything I could do before dragging him out of bed…

But none of that mattered because the possum wasn’t dead…it was, you guessed it, PLAYING POSSUM!

This isn't the possum in question.  It's a totally different possum
 playing possum. I'm including it to show you, they really
LOOK DEAD  even though they're faking.

And when I shone my flashlight on him, he jumped to his feet.

In other related news, we are now very grateful for social distancing as this may be the only reason the neighbors haven’t come over to complain about a woman screaming profanity in the backyard at 5:30 in the morning.

But, horrified neighbors notwithstanding, this leaves us with the problem of what to do about the possum that is currently squatting underneath our deck.

Because, tree-hugging, animal-loving, bleeding-heart liberal that I am, I don’t want to kill the possum. They don’t carry rabies, they eat a lot of ticks, they’re good for the environment, they’re cute in their own ugly way…but he’s not paying rent plus he’s bigger than Sassy and, tough as she THINKS she is, I don’t see her coming out on top in a possum vs puppy brawl.  So, I don’t want to kill him but I really don’t want him to live here any more.

My first step was to text my fellow tree-hugging, animal-loving bleeding-heart liberal and now possibly ex-friend, Eric, and ask what he thought I should do with a porch-dwelling possum

He said they really like cuddles and kisses.

Which kind of reminded me of the time I called Eric to find out what to do about the snake that was in the compost bin. That time he said, “You’re so lucky! You must have a really healthy ecosystem going!”

Which makes me question why I continue to call Eric in these situations at all.

In any case, Opie and I have come up with two very distinct plans. Opie‘s plan is to do nothing until I run out of plans.

My plan is to use water and light and loud noises to effectively convince the possum that our porch is no place to raise a family.

Failing that, I guess we could get some live traps put them out and trap the thing and then try to relocate it. At which point I will, obviously, take the day off work, drive to St. Louis and deposit the possum in Eric’s garage. Partially because you have to take them pretty far away if you don’t want them to come back. And partially because I really want to give Eric useless advice when he calls.

The long and the short of it is that the possum won the first battle but I fully intend to win the war.  I’ll keep you all posted!

This, sadly, is the only picture I got of the possum...and, yes, I know it's terrible. But it's not as easy to manage a flashlight & take a photo in the dark while also running away cursing as you might think.