I’ve never “met” an opossum that wasn’t… dead…
You know, the kind that somehow had to get across the road while some insensitive schmuck was driving just a little too fast and well, squish! – flattened opossum.
This morning, though, I met a big critter out for a morning stroll along the fence around my parents’ backyard. He was ever so friendly. We played opossum: he froze when he saw me, and then “smiled” for my camera. I didn’t particularly like the sinister “CHHHHiiiiZ” he said loudly while displaying those pronounced
teeth fangs, but then, how many photographers do you think he’s encountered?
When he’d had enough posing, he resumed his stroll, albeit a bit faster than when we first said hello. I suspect he isn’t fond of children, because Ya came a little too close and opossum “CHHHHiiiiZ“d one more time louder than before and moseyed right along toward the neighbor’s yard.
It was quite a polite meeting and I had to wonder why so many folk get spooked when opossums come over to dine in the trash cans.