Possum Fall

by G. Jack Urso

 

When I first moved into my home 21 years ago, my predelection for feeding stray cats also attracted an array of rabbits, raccoons, skunks, and possums. I have rescued and found homes for many of the stray cats. The raccoons and rabbits were delightful. Mother raccoons would proudly bring their new offspring for feeding time. I even loved the skunks with their cat-like habits and who were fairly polite and beautiful in their own way.

One of the backyard raccoons, largely moved on since their habitat was plowed under.

The possums, however, I had an affinity for. Though most people regard them as a bit ugly, I found them to be courteous and shy, but also fearless in their own way — never aggressive but refusing to move from a feeder even if a raccoon or stray cat was waiting to eat. With incredibly short life spans of about two years, I have seen ten generations come and go.

Home for these possums and some of the cats is under my enclosed front porch. A small hole on the side provides access. My mother, when she was alive and living with me, blocked up the hole with a rock, but I removed it. It is little bother to provide some refuge from the weather and from human development. The rabbits and raccoons disappeared when their nearby habitat was plowed under for a lawn, so this was small recompense for centuries of their ancestors having lived in the area and called it their own.

I take pictures and know the ones who feed on back porch. One was a delightful little guy who began feeding while quite young, barely larger than a couple hands long. In the winter, I shoveled the snow away from the hole so he could get out and eat. I placed a bowl of dry food by the hole, his human-like hands pulling the bowl inside out of the elements. I've done this for over 20 years for many generations of his great-grandparents.

My possum friend is the one the right (October 2022).

I continued to feed him and watched his growth as he matured into a strong healthy adult. After a year and a half, I knew he was getting old and this would likely be his last spring, his last summer.

On the last day of March this year, I found the old guy dead on my front lawn. He looked like he was hit by a car overnight and then crawled towards the hole under my front porch that was his home. I found him dead on the lawn near the small patch of gravel in the middle of picture below.

Where he was found after the accident.

How much like so many of us, like me, is this possum I wondered, just trying to get through life with a bit of kindness from others.

His last thoughts were to get where he was always safe and warm. He was probably born there. So, I buried him just a foot away from his home and covered it with rocks.

His final resting place.

Me casa es su casa. You made it home little buddy. You made it home.

Save me a place.

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