Playing Possum Part Deux

I blogged last time about my possum experience. Well, there is more.

All of this whole business started because of the cats. (You know, all of the good stories start with that line...)

So when we moved into this place, we inherited, along with gobs of junk that needed to be taken to the dump, a cat. Grey and white, and tough as nails. Our house had been vacant for nearly a year, and she survived just fine. She gave us about a 30’ berth, so we had no idea if she was a he or a she. Well, of course, until she brought her kittens around.

We nicknamed her BB, I don’t really know why. But that is her name, and she is still around today. After three years, she and her babies and all of their descendants have graced us with their presence. I don’t know how many cats have come and gone, but currently we have 13 cats—all descended from BB.

Many of those that have come and gone have been truly feral—not only skittish, but really disliking people. BB has come around somewhat, since we do feed her, but we have not been able to even touch her, let along hold her or love on her. Sometimes we don’t see her for a few days, or sometimes she shows up for both the morning and evening meal. It just depends.

When we saw that she was definitely a she, we found out that there is a service provided by the University here that will spay and neuter your barn cats. It’s provided by the vet students, but there is a waiting list. It does cost, but at $15 it is quite economical. They have the setup necessary to sedate a feral cat in a cat carrier or trap. They also lend their traps to catch the cats. However, we had no idea that we would be on the list for a matter of YEARS. We put our name on the list in the summer of 2004, and just received the call on October 21st (of 2006) that our number was up to bring the cats in. We jumped at the chance!

The first go-round they only had space for 5 of our colony. No problem, the last batch of kittens born are very tame, and we found 5 that could travel easily in carriers. When we got up there, we borrowed the traps for the second set (8 cats), which were taken this past Sunday. Here is a picture of the traps, so you can see what they look like:



Saturday L and I went to a goat event, so we were busy. We came home and corralled the tame cats, and set traps for the feral cats. There were 2 feral cats loose, and 2 traps.

That night, MK and J invited us over for some great food, and, as it happened, some great margaritas. Some really great, put-your-ass-under-the-table margaritas. We came home, and I went to the barn. I was standing around in the freezing cold barn without a coat, even, those maragaritas had warmed me right up! I was feeling nothing but happiness! Until I saw that the cat I thought I had trapped was a POSSUM. Yep, Possum #2. Too bad I hadn’t trapped it before going to MK’s house, as I could have brought it as a housewarming gift instead of the jar of applesauce. Instead, since B was the sober one, he had to drive it at 11:00 on a Saturday night, up to the forest preserve and let it out.

The traps were again baited, and we went to bed.

The next morning, we woke up and checked the traps. TWO OPEN TRAPS. Those cats were not about to take the bait, and apparently we had dispatched all of the possums.

We load them up and take them up to the vet.

But let me paint the picture for you: You have just woken from your slumber at 5:15 am, after a late evening involving alcohol containing a worm. You stumble out to the barn to do chores, and collect the cats. The collection process is a royal bitch because you have to sort out the ones that have already been neutered, you are cussing at the ones that have not trapped themselves, but are still underfoot begging for their breakfast, and the ones that have been trapped overnight have already pooped in their traps and stink to high heavens. They are crying and lunging and carrying on, and they are running back and forth from one end of the trap to the other as you try and load them into the car. It’s heavy, stinky, and messy work. The cats provide a chorus for the entire 65 minute drive, and they fill your car with a scent like none other. Of course, we have protection down for the interior of our cars, but the smell while traveling with them is overwhelming. You have not had breakfast, are starving and in dire need of caffeine, but don’t dare stop on the way, as there will be no way you can choke down food with that stench in your car.

Ultimately, all’s well that ends well, as we got the cats back and everyone’s been de-gendered, and they have been released back into the barn. God knows they won’t be so scarred from the event that they will not stick around for the next meal.

A footnote: B went to load some hay into the barn after we came back on Sunday night, and when he came in the house, he said,

“You’re going to be mad.”

Me: Wha?

“I saw another possum in the barn. It ran behind the fridge.”

I set the trap last night, but only caught a kitten. I’m turning into Bill Murray.