The proverbial ink had barely dried on my last “war on the groundhog” post. As I flung open the door of the shed to replenish the marauded supply of sunflower seed, I saw this.
Clearly there would be no truce in this war. Game on.
Then I looked a little closer. And saw it.
Eeeeeeeekkkkkk! (I squealed like a little girl. Ran for the camera. Then ran to interrupt Mike from his mowing so he could witness…this.
And all of these.
Yup. A new hole (not the same one Mr./Ms Groundhog was using in the far right corner), occupied near as I can tell by one big mama possum and two not-so-small babies. Not one of them playing the least bit fake-dead as I snapped away (with Mike exclaiming how cute they were, and jerking my chain calling them “weasels” … just like I did when I found a little baby one dead in the yard a couple months ago…a sibling perhaps?)
Did I mention replacing the floor of the shed has been on our to-do list for a while now?
And I thought I wanted to live in the country.
What’s next? (Dear God, there was that skunk family in the driveway one night a couple years back…)
Should I dig up a NO VACANCY sign? Round up a few more traps? Or is it time to cede the outpost, padlock the door, retreat, and defend the homestead instead?
A story to me means a plot where there is some surprise.
Because that is how life is — full of surprises.
~ Isaac Bashevis Singer
Writing by Ear 