Opanina the Opossum needs food.
All animals forage, and we tend towards kindness to The Old Ones when we’re able.
It’s that “pay it forward” thing we do.
The Wild brings us such joy due to its simplicity.
All things are in balance.
Until Man appears.
Man does not understand balance.
I’ve previously mentioned the construction going on the far side of our wood, most recently in They ain’t tiny little raccoons no more and The Flock.
Said construction is affecting our little piece of The Wild. More creatures show up daily, often multiple times each day, foraging for anything we might leave about.
Whatever we do leave about is gone quickly.
And there are squabbles now. There always were and they were seldom and few. Now we hear them daily.
It is birthing time and there are young ones to feed; Raccoon, Opossum, Coyote, Rabbit, and others.
It is not our duty to feed them all. It is our pleasure to do what we can.
For The Wild.
What can be more wonderful than dining out on freshly offered seeds?
Why, dining out on freshly offered seeds while listening to Glenn Gould play OBach, of course.
So says Ogilvie the Opossum
Sometimes I encounter people who say Gould wasn’t that good.
I smile, nod, and walk away.
If I dare, if the individual making such a statement seems willing, I’ll ask what their statement is based on.
Being honest, more often than not their statement is based on hearsay (a third cousin to “heresy” linguistically) or a profound incompetence and ignorance of music.
Okay, sometimes it’s not so profound.
It’s still incompetence and ignorance.
Fortunately, such does not deter Ogilvie, who is a wise, if somewhat aged, Opossum.
Sometimes I wake late in the night (or early in the morning) with something write downable.
It’s an authoring thing.
When I do, I check for guests.
Never know who may be joining me at the table.
It’s comforting to know The Old Ones are out and about.
Case in point, Opinetta the opossum.
Often, knowing our guests are taken care of, I write more profoundly.
Not necessarily better, merely with more energy.
It’s a good thing.
Our dog, Boo, has issues with some wildlife.
We’re not sure why.
We’ve never encouraged it. Quite the opposite. We’re open and friendly with all the Old Ones who visit.
Some times Boo is asleep, wakes up, and see’s me going out to say hello.
We’ve explained there are outside friends and inside friends.
We think it’s something more primal.
Something long ago and lost in canine and didelphine memory.
A opossum and a wolf walked into a bar, perhaps, started toasting each other’s good health, someone said something, you know how these things happen.
I doubt it started with an argument over a mate, even though the original Powhatan/Algonquian word means “white dog.”
Maybe an opossum or a dog was slumming, spending time with the other, got caught by their peers and later generations still carry the shame?
Don’t know, except that Boo doesn’t like Opie.
She’s cute and she’s quite the homemaker.
Opanella is small by Opossum standards for this time of year (this video is from the first day of Winter 2019). Last days of Fall, first days of Winter, opossum need to be beefy and bulky, better able to withstand the cold, coming months.
You’ll notice Opanella is neither. Petite, one might say. We first noticed her trundling under our porch. A few years back an elderly opossum decided to pass over there. Had a devil of a time getting his remains out.
So seeing Opanella’s interest there, we blocked her access.
Undaunted, she cast her tiny-eyed gaze on our shed.
Yep, that’s where she’d homesteading now.
Less of a concern, this. She’s well protected and it’s much easier to lift a shed than a porch.
As with all who bless us with their company, we make sure she has something good to eat.