Last week, as I walked out in to the back yard to close things up for the night, Mazzy the dog-wolf was insistent that she needed to stay out by the kennel. Usually that means their is some kind of critter out there. I found I was right when she strolled over with a baby possum in her mouth. She dropped it in the long grass by the never used BBQ (not even once this year).
I stopped long ago going out to check out the "dead thing". Sometimes they are not dead. And I'm not picking it up, not in a million lifetimes. I leave a note for the hubster to shovel it up and catapult it into the vacant lot behind ours. The hubster is convinced that having dead, rotting rodents around the perimeter of the yard will deter future critters from committing the same transgressions as their predecessors. Like the old head on a pike routine in the middle ages. I don't think it works but the hubby is not convinced.
Mazzy is now almost 12 years old now, with bad hips and arthritis, but back in the day, she would get sometimes two or three critters every night. Nutria originally had come to raid the apples and plums that had fallen on the ground, but as winter sets in more, the 'possums are far more troublesome than the veggie eating nutria. The 'possums come for the chickens.
Sorry, I digress. Where was I? Oh, the "dead thing". The Husband came home from work, ans I told him about the "dead thing" and where it should be. He went out there, and no possum. Not unusual. Mazzy has a weird way of killing things. She doesn't tear anything up. She just squeezes it with her massive jaw until it stops squeaking or whatever other noise it's making, then she leaves it on the ground. since 'possums, well, "play 'possum" it's hard to tell sometimes.
Meanwhile last night the man decided to traipse about the yard, looking for a place to pee. (He also thinks that if he pees around the perimeter of the yard, the pesky rodents will stay away. That theory was disproved and recorded in this post.) While tromping out to the fence line, he came upon the possum that he couldn't find the other night. Then he looked over to his right and saw another one. Then another one. I seriously think I need to mow the yard, because these things looked as if they had been their a few days unnoticed by myself or the other dogs.
In total, their were three young 'possums dead in my backyard jungle (er; GRASS). Good job, Mazzy!
Now if I could only trust her with the chickens, I could set her to guarding the hen house. The husband and myself spent the better part of an hour getting a very big and fat adult possum out of the nesting box in the coop late the other night. Johnny Cash, our big Cochin rooster was absolutely no help. He flew the coop before his ladies even had a chance to squawk.
I actually didn't do a whole lot that night to help either. Oh, I was there. I gave good advice on how to hold the shovel my husband was wielding. But other than that I just stood back and giggled to myself while watching him in his headlamp, mock-jabbing at it, while loudly yelling "hiya hiya, GIT!". It eventually "git"ed, and all was calm again. For a while at least.
I stopped long ago going out to check out the "dead thing". Sometimes they are not dead. And I'm not picking it up, not in a million lifetimes. I leave a note for the hubster to shovel it up and catapult it into the vacant lot behind ours. The hubster is convinced that having dead, rotting rodents around the perimeter of the yard will deter future critters from committing the same transgressions as their predecessors. Like the old head on a pike routine in the middle ages. I don't think it works but the hubby is not convinced.
Mazzy is now almost 12 years old now, with bad hips and arthritis, but back in the day, she would get sometimes two or three critters every night. Nutria originally had come to raid the apples and plums that had fallen on the ground, but as winter sets in more, the 'possums are far more troublesome than the veggie eating nutria. The 'possums come for the chickens.
Sorry, I digress. Where was I? Oh, the "dead thing". The Husband came home from work, ans I told him about the "dead thing" and where it should be. He went out there, and no possum. Not unusual. Mazzy has a weird way of killing things. She doesn't tear anything up. She just squeezes it with her massive jaw until it stops squeaking or whatever other noise it's making, then she leaves it on the ground. since 'possums, well, "play 'possum" it's hard to tell sometimes.
Meanwhile last night the man decided to traipse about the yard, looking for a place to pee. (He also thinks that if he pees around the perimeter of the yard, the pesky rodents will stay away. That theory was disproved and recorded in this post.) While tromping out to the fence line, he came upon the possum that he couldn't find the other night. Then he looked over to his right and saw another one. Then another one. I seriously think I need to mow the yard, because these things looked as if they had been their a few days unnoticed by myself or the other dogs.
In total, their were three young 'possums dead in my backyard jungle (er; GRASS). Good job, Mazzy!
Now if I could only trust her with the chickens, I could set her to guarding the hen house. The husband and myself spent the better part of an hour getting a very big and fat adult possum out of the nesting box in the coop late the other night. Johnny Cash, our big Cochin rooster was absolutely no help. He flew the coop before his ladies even had a chance to squawk.
I actually didn't do a whole lot that night to help either. Oh, I was there. I gave good advice on how to hold the shovel my husband was wielding. But other than that I just stood back and giggled to myself while watching him in his headlamp, mock-jabbing at it, while loudly yelling "hiya hiya, GIT!". It eventually "git"ed, and all was calm again. For a while at least.
