A few nights ago, I went out to the coop after dark to check for eggs. I did like I always do when I go after dark: I turned on all the backyard lights so I could see. (It's still dark, by the way.) Sometimes I take my phone for a light source, but not that night. Oh no. Not that night.
There are two doors to my coop. One for them to enter and exit through and one that's directly behind the nesting boxes. I lift that door upward each day to retrieve my eggs.
But this night, as I innocently lifted the door to grab my rightful items, I saw movement in the coop. It ran from the exit door to the edge of the egg retrieval door. And fast! My first thought was: RAT!!! Because pretty much any rodent is a rat to me. But upon closer examination, I realized it was a (young)
So of course, I screamed. And he stood there staring at me. I thought I might be on the verge of one of those scenes where the squirrel jumps out of the tree and straight onto Uncle Eddy's FACE, so I dropped the door and caused a loud slam.
I waited a minute for him to realize I meant business and leave, but when I lifted the door again, he was still standing there. What the heck! Did he think I was there to PLAY?? Was he not afraid of my loud door slamming show?
And then I did what any normal, rational woman would do. I went inside and sent my husband out.
And do you know what he did?
That's right. HE TOOK A PICTURE.
If you're waiting for an end to this story that includes the demise of that possum or my sweet chickens, for that matter, then you're bawking up the wrong tree. (Ba dum bum chshhhh. Sorry, had to do it.)
We went inside, hoped he'd be gone by morning, and googled possums. Apparently THEY EAT EGGS. Mmmmm, how nice. The next morning I saw that evidence for myself. The two fake eggs we leave in the nesting boxes to stimulate production have little bite marks all over them like he had held it like a corn cob and gone to town.
It must have been terribly unsatisfying for him. Because we haven't seen him around again.