A Christmas visitor
On Christmas morning, I looked out to see a possum just outside our back door. It was behaving strangely, walking too close to the house, back and forth in the dead leaves. We stepped outside to take a look. The possum was not startled and ignored us, even when we came too close and tried to lead it into the bushes. It seemed to be focused on something. It sniffed around then lay down on some dried leaves near the liriope grass, barely moving. We assumed it must be sick or injured. My husband put out some water and peanut butter for it and created a makeshift shelter with a lawn chair.
Throughout the day we kept checking on it. It looked gravely ill and would not eat or drink. As I was expressing my helplessness about the sad and terrible plight of this poor creature, my son offered another perspective: “Maybe it picked our home because this is a safe and peaceful place to die.” I thought about that. That this wild creature’s instincts could lead it to our home in its weak and vulnerable state to take its last breath. That’s humbling. What a blessing.
We often get animal visitors in our backyard from the woods behind our house: stray cats, possum, raccoons, deer. I frequently hear them rustling outside my window at night. Since our pets died, more critters are visiting. (The dog used to bust out of the pet door to chase animals away; the cat would spit and hiss from a safe distance at the window.)
Possum usually come after midnight to rummage through our compost heap. I imagined our possum friend coming every night to eat fruit peels and left overs, taking his time and enjoying the peace and quiet, knowing that the dog was no longer there to harass him.
A couple of years ago, we installed an automatic pet feeder in the small wooden tree house in our backyard for a stray cat who loved to come visit us. My son named him Bandana. He was a beautiful black tuxedo cat with white fur around his neck that looked like a cute white bandana. He was a perfect gentleman. He would greet us each morning from a distance and wait calmly at the bottom of the tree house, and then climb up right at meal times (7 am and 3 pm) and enjoy his meal and a nap up there. At first our dog and cat would chase him away, but since he kept coming back, they reluctantly tolerated him. Late at night, the camera would show raccoons lifting the feeder and trying to open or break it to get the food. I never knew raccoons could do that. Just like monkeys.
Our possum friend died this morning, one day after his visit. Earl buried him in the woods behind our house. I’m left with a feeling of gratitude for the unexpected gift of this possum dying two steps away from our back door on this unseasonably warm winter day. Somehow it feels auspicious that he chose our home as his final resting place.
I’m thankful that Mother Nature continues to do her thing in spite of our destructive human tendencies. That we have a piece of Nature here, right next to major highways, bridges and homes, where wild animals can still live. I love the deer that come right to our house, even though they eat our pansies, dahlias and peaches. I’m grateful that they also belong here and that we must learn to share with them. And that the neighborhood cats still come to our tree house to hang out and enjoy the view from up top.
So many blessings on this day.