Just as I was dozing off last night I heard a clink. Something had triggered the trap. Of course I got up to look. As expected it was a nice-sized possum.
My cats were lining the window peering out with me. I decided it would not do to have them spend the entire night staring at the poor creature so I called my neighbor. She doesn’t hear all that well and had her air conditioner running so I was sure she hadn’t heard it.
I informed her that the possum was caught and she really shouldn’t leave her little dog out on his own because I was certain he’d be yapping at the fence, trying to get to it and would be difficult for her to coax back inside. Yes, don’t you like the way I put that? Concern for her and her dog?
Half an hour later her grandson shows up with his mom, the daughter who went on and on about it being a muskrat. The first thing he said was, “Mom, that’s not a muskrat, it’s a possum, just like I told you it probably would be.” Ha! Seems I’m not the only one that disagreed with her.
They took it away to release it up in the woods bordering the park where it supposedly won’t disturb anyone. Possums are scavengers so I think it’s more likely to take up residence in a shelter near the trash cans in the park but I didn’t stick my head out and say that. It’s gone. The trap is gone. They’re happy.
But it got me thinking. Here was this critter, minding its own business, foraging for food in its home area and suddenly it’s snatched away and dumped somewhere unfamiliar. I’m sure it will adapt and survive even though absolutely everything about its existence has changed in an instant. Can we say the same about ourselves?