Shot my first possum!

I know what most of you want to say when you see this picture... Go ahead and say it... "NASTY!" I would too, but this time I was the proud hunter (not proud enough to actually hold it myself, though. YUK).

Noah, after much protest to being sent out in the dark to collect our eggs (he forgot to do it earlier), came bursting in... "Mom, there's a possum in the hen house! It's in the nesting box!" Paul was out buying a new dishwasher after ours died, so it was up to me to do something with this egg thief. Seth volunteered to shoot it with his bb gun, but my wisdom said it would probably just get mad, so Noah and I went out armed with a baseball bat, a golf club and a head-lamp (one of those flashlights that you rubberband to your forhead). We also took Lady, our fierce possum hunting Blue-Heeler. We showed Lady where it was, but being that it saw her too, the possum tried to bite her every time she went to grab it. And bing I wasn't about to get into a baseball bat fight with a possum in a 4X8 foot hen house, I decided to go back in and get our gun. The possum was still in the same spot when I got back, and seeing it's bared teeth and hearing it growl at me, I didn't feel one bit sorry for shooting it. Clean up was left for my dear husband who tossed it in the road-side ditch of the field next door. That IS where many possums end up anyway, right?

I have to say that my boys were quite proud of their momma today (so was my hubby), and I was glad to get rid of our plump, trespassing egg-eater.