Possum dis-Lodged

Maybe this isn't really a gardening post, but it did happen in my garden and because of my gardening, so I figure I'll report on it.

A couple of weeks ago, I decided I should neaten up the section of the yard in front of the front tool shed. This area has traditionally been cleverly camouflaged with many old overgrown forsythia bushes that either I or my neighbour perioidically attack viciously with clippers and pruners. Forsythias are very resilient, especially when they are probably 40 years old with trunks the size of small trees and they always came back strongly.

In early summer, I decided to cut them right down to the ground so they would grow up looking like real bushes again. but having done that, I thought - why not get rid of a lot of the really huge ones and just leave the smaller ones to grow on. Fortunately, I had my strong nephew working for me this summer, and he had a good time one afternoon getting about six of the monsters out. And I decided that in their place I will plant a row of cedars as a hedge next spring. The cedars and the small tameable forsythia should look nice together.

A good plan, but this means that an area that was very sheltered from view, where I had been in the habit of storing bags of left-over container soil, mulch, etc. is quite open to the public eye. We moved some of the material to the back, but I wanted to keep some bags of mulch near the front garden because that's where I will use them next spring. so we just moved those a bit under some over-hanging bushes and I decided to use some pieces of burlap, leftover from a project some years ago, to cover them up a bit more.

I found those burlap pieces in an old plastic bag in the back tool shed, carried them up to the front, pulled out the first piece, and shook it out. Much to my horror and surprise, an animal fell out of the burlap and took off very quickly into the undergrowth. All I saw clearly were strangely white looking feet. They reminded me of the feet I once saw on a possum that showed up on our deck one night a few years ago. My first thought then was - this is the strangest looking raccoon I have ever seen! But the word "possum" popped into my head (maybe because of all those years that I read the Pogo cartoon strip in the newspaper)and when I looked on the internet I found my strange nocturnal visitor was a possum.

So, I figured a possum had been making it's home in my burlap bag. Then I looked down and saw - a tiny possum baby. I was really horrified. It was smaller than my thumb and could only totter around in tiny circles. What had a I done! What could I do? I am not fond of possums and would just as soon they stayed away from my yard, but I felt terrible about separating a mother and child, even of the rodent variety. I covered the bags and the tiny possum with the burlap, hoping the mother would come back and get it. At least the burlap would keep it out of the sight of predators for a while. I hoped.

I consulted the internet again and found out - I had forgotten - that possums are marsupials and carry the young (called joeys, like baby kangaroos), in their pouch. Also, the mothers regularly give birth to several more babies than they are physically equipped to nurse, so only the strongest survive. I figured, if the mothers can take such a cavalier attitude toward their own babies, I shouldn't get too upset about the one I saw.

About 5 days later, I went into the back tool shed, whence came the bag of burlap, to get a rake, and I heard a loud squeaking noise. I looked down and saw another possum baby, squeaking its tiny head off . It was also tottering around in circles, quite energetically, although its sense of balance was not quite all there and it fell over quite regularly. If it hadn't been so pathetic, it would have been funny.

Again, I was appalled, but I figured this one couldn't be my fault; it was moving around so strongly it couldn't have been separated from it's mother for that long - surely not for the 5 days since the previous baby possum sighting. But every time I had to go back into the shed for a tool, it would start squeaking and totter in my direction. I began to suspect it thought maybe I was its Mom. Horror of horrors! I finally closed up the shed, hoping the mother possum would retrieve it.

Next day, I peeked in the tool shed - no squeaking. I looked around and finally spotted the little creature at the back , lying still. Okay, it's dead. But then it started to weakly move around. It's alive but too weak to squeak. Great. I can't stand this anymore. I move it outside and leave it under some bushes, where I figure it will succumb quickly to the elements or some roving predator.

Some days I find it very difficult to deal with the life and death struggles of gardening.