Compost Critter – Day 827

Who Approaches? – Photo: L. Weikel

Compost Critter

Yesterday was chock full of wild surprises and feral encounters. Wildlife kind, I should say. While I have no photographic identification of the Prius Apple Nibbler, I certainly provided proof of the little jerk’s existence by displaying its lovely entry in the ‘free form sculpting, transforming an apple to a dahlia blossom’ competition. What I didn’t tell you about last night was Karl’s unexpected encounter with a compost critter.

Karl took the bag of compost down to the container we keep beside the barn. To hear him tell it, he was barely paying attention to the rote task, instead using the slog through the almost knee deep snow to ponder just how much ice might coat the roads and trees this week. In fact, he was so oblivious that he very nearly dumped the kitchen detritus right onto the aforementioned critter’s fur.

Lucky for both of them, Karl meant this usually nocturnal creature, whom we may (or may not) have encountered before, no ill will and Opossum Pat performed on cue, choosing to feign death over its early supper rather than snarl or fight.

I happened to be walking out to the car at the very moment of their encounter and heard Karl call out my name. “Lis! Lis! Check it out! Bring your phone!” I could see him standing about five feet away from the compost barrel, but didn’t know what he’d discovered.

Fine Specimen

Oh, what a good looking opossum awaited my inspection. Karl said it keeled over as soon as he gasped in surprise. Pat had been utterly motionless ever since Karl shouted to get my attention.

I probably freaked it out when I started talking to it as if it were one of our pets. I addressed Pat in my customary high sing-song voice that I reserve primarily for babies and non-humans, thinking it would continue to ‘play dead’ as long as I spoke to it out loud.

Much as I hoped it would respond to my voice, I never thought it would.

Imagine my surprise, then, when it started opening its eyes as I approached it from behind. I didn’t want to scare it, so I continued talking to it and telling it how handsome it was. I also didn’t want to freak it out by remaining behind it, so I moved to its left to get a better, more full-on look at its face.

And yes indeed, it looked right back at me. It opened its mouth a little and I wondered if it was going to hiss at me and bare the razor-like teeth that make it look like something out of a Tim Burton movie. Nope. It kept both its temper and fear in check. I’d like to think it was my scintillating personality, but as I continued to talk to it in my sing-song way, Karl leaned in on its other side and dumped the compost contents into the barrel beside it.

Foul Temptation

Oh, the scent beckoned, it was obvious. Shrimp shells, carrot peelings, with a gravy of moldy cottage cheese. Heady stuff. It wanted to keep its eye on me, but oh, Sweet Master Marsupial In the Sky, the tantalizing offering dumped by the Quiet Giant was too much to resist.

There was no way Pat could keep up the façade. It turned its face slightly away from me, daring to take in the heady scents full on.

Appreciating its dilemma, Karl and I quickly retreated.

“Eat well, little friend. Thanks for letting us take some cool head shots!”

(T-284)