The Possum and the Watchdog
a true tale of bravery, possum games, and very selective memory
It was about 2 a.m. when the quiet clucks started up from the coop—just enough to stir suspicion, not full-on panic. I peeked out the back window and saw movement on the fence line. A possum. A regular, slow-moving, no-hurry-in-his-bones kind of possum, following his usual route across the top of the back fence like it was I-5.
But he didn’t count on Mickey.
Mickey, our resident protector and part-time bouncer, launched into action and knocked the possum clean off the fence and into our yard. Like any respectable possum, it immediately played dead. Flopped over like it had met its dramatic end.
Mickey nudged it. Picked it up. Moved it.
It didn’t move back.
He lost interest.
Walked right back into the house like, “Well, that’s that.”
The chickens, having seen Mickey leave, stopped their commentary but wisely stayed put. Blue, of course, remained in the pen like a general on the wall—watching, judging, doing absolutely nothing.
But Gia… oh, sweet Gia. She didn't go back in.
She laid down next to the possum.
Just watching.
She wasn’t fooled.
I came out around 9 a.m., coffee in hand, and there she was—still beside the possum, eyes half-lidded but fixed. The possum was very much alive, just playing the long game. I could see those little black ears twitching, eyes subtly scanning the situation.
Mickey noticed too. He ran over, nudged it again… and THUD—the possum collapsed like a dropped sack of potatoes. Played dead even harder this time.
Mickey pawed at it. Even pulled some fur (which he immediately spit out in disgust, and I can’t blame him—yech). Then, again, he lost interest and walked off.
Gia didn’t.
She just shifted and laid right back down beside it.
Three hours passed.
Eventually, Gia came inside, probably satisfied that whatever judgment day the possum deserved had been served.
And right on cue, the possum popped back to life and scurried away like nothing had happened.
From the coop, Blue let out the most dramatic crow of the day, clearly announcing victory and claiming the glory of a possum-free yard.
He hadn’t done a thing.
But as far as he’s concerned, that possum was defeated by sheer rooster presence.
Moral of the story?
Mickey is brave, but not fond of fur.
Gia is wise and unshakeable.
Blue is a politician.
And possums? Never trust ‘em.
Unless you're Gia. In which case, you watch them like a lion guarding a sheep—until they blink.