The Possum Fandango

Had a bit of excitement last night.  We went out to put up the chickens and feed the foxes (the ones I released a couple of months ago--they still show up for dinner).  Suddenly we heard a loud noise--almost like a weed whacker.  But who weed whacks in the dark--and this was pretty close.  In a couple of seconds my brain clicked on and recognized that sound:  rattlesnake.

Unlike some people, I don't hate snakes.  But rattlers are dangerous--and he was too close to the house, the cats, the chicken yard, and us.  He was far enough away (maybe 15 feet) not to be immediately dangerous, so I scooped up Apache cat to keep him from investigating, took him inside, grabbed the gun with the snake shot in it--and Bob did the deed. 

We just left him there, figuring that some nighttime critter would find a good meal.  But I was curious as to what might do that, so I set up our game camera.  The body got sniffed at by a couple of raccoons and foxes, but the possum was quite interested--and quite cautious.  He would sneak up, give a quick bite, and run off.  Finally he must have decided that it was dead and possible worth eating.  But he apparently wanted to make really really certain that it was deceased:

I think it's the stomping up and down on the body that fascinates me.  So sorry, snake--you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.  Or, as far as that possum is concerned, the right place at the right time.  To some, a dangerous animal.  To others, an all-you-can-eat buffet.