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Look who’s here! It’s a Flying Devil! Go order your own from Bags that Bite (or their Etsy shop).

Almost done with the initial burning of all the piles of brush and trees that Mike the “Nature terminator” left on the property with his amazing machines. We did have some folks up to extract what logs they could for their woodstoves (maybe 20+ pickup trucks worth in total) so it won’t all be going up in smoke just to spew ash and warm up the hillsides ;). Once the initial fires are done the harder work starts, getting the leftovers re-racked and then burned again, repeat till only ash is left. About 1/2 the piles have had at least a second run so we’re getting there. The next step is to have Mike back up with his bulldozer to push the remaining stumps into as few piles as possible for a final burn, and also to do a bit of root raking, hole filling, and grading. I’ve taken the precaution of doing a bit of seeding on the hill in case we don’t get it all done in time for winter but I would prefer we finish and get a real seed bed started before spring thaw =).

I’ll be leaving the piles that he made out in the western property up for the winter. Foxes use that type of habitat for mousing and along with giving them something to eat besides my damn birds, it will give the people hunting them an aggregation point.  If you have any friends who are foxed please point them at the new dining area ;).

Long term we hope to counter the burning and clearing evilness a few ways. The first way is that we didn’t actually “clear” the property. We intentionally had quite a few trees per acre left standing, a few more then we really want in the long run to deal with any that might not handle the change. These trees will be there to provide some stability and shade. The second is that we are looking to establish a meadow in most of the area north of the house, we’d like it to be a mixed grouping of deep rooted drought resistant grasses/flowering plants, as well as any other native plants that might want to come up. All poison ivy  and rose bushes will be clobbered on sight.

-pee

One fox down. 18 to go if we’re to make it all even. Unfortunately, in the process one chicken (Minty) was seriously injured and might not make it, and Icky got a minor leg injury during the melee (either puncture wounds in leg from running through heavy brush, or possibly a ricocheting shotgun pellet (he wasn’t anywhere near the action at the time, and the vet didn’t think this was the case). I hope it’s the same fox that got Beardo a couple of weeks ago. We know there must be more as this one was a rather small female and we’ve seen a larger male around. Notice the chicken feathers in her mouth. Normally I’d feel bad, but not when they’re eating our pets. Poor pee. I was not even home and within a few minutes he had shot his first fox, had to put an injured chicken into the barn, and rush Icky to the vet (he’s fine btw, just a small skin injury and is all bandaged up).
P.S. He used my .22/.410 rifle/shotgun combo…shotgun stopped it, .22 finished, one more .22 to ensure.

So when Paul got home last night, the last we saw of the opossum was his hasty retreat to the woods. We thought that was the last we’d see. Then at 6:30 this morning, Paul went to let Cupcake out and there he was, huddled against the house and covered with snow. Then he comes back upstairs and says to me (half asleep): “You know, if you want to you could go to the barn and get one of the dog kennels.” So there I am wanting to stay in the warm bed but thinking of this little miserable furball on our back doorstep.

So of course I got up and walked to the barn in my pajamas and a coat and wheeled out a kennel and a cheap throw (those ones that come packaged in plastic for picnics or whatever). Then, of course, I’m all set up and standing over a very stubbornly sleeping opossum. After poking at his rump a few times (gloved finger, of course) and yelling ‘hey buddy, wake up! Wake up!’, I got a pair of work gloves from Paul and quickly tossed the wee beastie into the crate, under the throw. He was so sluggish he hardly moved.

Around nine I checked in, half expecting him to be sitting in there headfirst just like I left him, but he’d bundled into the throw and was peeking out when I lifted the front of it, like ‘hey, man, the light! Damn!’ and he’s been sleeping in there all day, not even coming out for banana peels or an egg I opened for him.

I just know this will cause problems later…will probably steal eggs from the henhouse or something. Or he will be a she and there will be a buttload of babies on its back next time I see it, all eating eggs and chasing chickens. It’s hard to leave a cute furry animal on your back step in the snow, especially when they’re all slow and helpless and not running away and holding banana peels in their little handlike paws.

Paul says his name is Osama bin Possum. Or maybe Opossum bin Laden.

May I partake of your delicious banana peels?

Pwease, pwease wet me in the house. I will be such a good wittle opossum.