Life is good in Yellowbush!
We’re kinda having a possum war here in Yellowbush. A hundred years from now one of my great grandkids by then in his seventies, will grab little Freddie the fourth, and tell him the family legend of the Great Possum War of 2017.
Sure, everybody loves themselves a nicely baked possum smothered in sweet potatoes, but as y’all also know they gotta be “fed out” before they’re fit for the pot. I’m the first to admit, you just can’t always take the time late at night to catch and secure the slick tail, especially when he’s humiliating the dog, scaring the wifey, and eating the high dollar cat food.
See, killing may be harsh, and certainly not much sport, as the average possum is slow of foot, but might be the only answer, ’cause the art of catching old possum is somewhat of a lost art. It takes a brave soul to reach down and pick a possum up by his tail, but it can be done. See, when we were kids and out possum hunting at night with our possum dog, that’s how we carried the slickies we caught.
I recollect one young fellow carrying a possum, and when he crawled through a barb wire fence, he lowered the possum till it hit the ground, then it rebounded up and bit through that young man’s thumb. It hurt him alot, based on his hollering. I remember his thumb sure did swell up. Ruined him on possum hunting, too. It wasn’t cause he was scared of possums, it’s cause he’d kill em if he could, cause he hated them so. He’d go all wild eyed like when we’d catch one, so as far as I know, Levi was the only boy I ever knew to be banned from possum hunting. So you gotta be careful when carrying a possum, as you wouldn’t wanna be banned from the sport.
I was lucky enough to have a dad that was good at making one sull. Taught me, said I was a natural. He was just bragging on me, but he was good. He’d just take a club and punch and poke the possum, and before long, it would sull, or faint , like a millennial at the sight of blood, lol. Then you could do what you needed to do with him, as long as someone with the same feelings as young Levi doesn’t get to the sulled possum first.
Anyway, the critters have moved on down to Red’s house and seem to be winning that war. I still got one I’m fighting here, so I can’t help Red out, as trying to fight a war on two fronts is a recipe for defeat. The good news is that they seem to have called a truce till this cold snap has passed.
The fireplace has been going for several days, now. I sure glad I bought that good burning shekin wood. What’s shekin wood, you say? It’s firewood cut small enough that when you’re tired, your wife, shekin get it. Life is chilly here, but tomorrow is Saturday.