A quick orientation (of sorts) first...
The Old house, which is the original possum house is attached to the pergola, on the garden side...
The Brown house sits at the other end of the pergola on a tower, pretty much right next to the house.
The pergola bridge ends at the Old house, and there's a short bridge from the Brown house to the pergola bridge.
Hopefully, you're not confused, yet... ha ha...
Mother possum got up as it was getting dark, yesterday and took three steps along the pergola bridge...
She looked along the pergola bridge, frowned, and said "What is That doing here...?"...
The "That" in question was a cockatoo, a youngish cockatoo who had decided that having something to eat was much more important than the fact that it was rapidly growing dark... ha ha...
Mother strode in a very businesslike fashion down the bridge... That stride that says "When I get there I'm going to give it something more than just a piece of my mind..."... ha ha...
She was about half way along the bridge when the cockatoo noticed her...
He said "Eep!" and left, ha ha...
She stopped and chuckled, smugly - "I showed him who's boss...".
At this point I'm going to break into the story...
We'll be back in a minute... This next bit is relevant, but I couldn't think how to incorporate it...
During the afternoon, a couple of hours before the above took place, one of the cockatoos "Told" me that there was a "Thing"...
A creature of immense and incredible terribleness...
And it was lurking nearby...
Given the close proximity of the Brown house to the bird, I thought that it would be a good place to start looking for this "Thing"...
So I duly climbed up on a plastic crate and peered into the Brown house doorway...
Ahhh... Yes... The bird was right...
A beast of such malevolence as has rarely been known was, indeed, lurking in the possum house...
The bird was right to have his wings spread, his tail fanned, his crest up, and to voice his concerns to me at a decibel level fit to rival a jet engine... ha ha...
There, in the gloom, I could just make out the tip of a tail... ha ha...
Someone was having a sleep in the entrance corridor... It wasn't a particularly hot day, but the possums do like to seek out the coolest spots...
I reassured the cockatoo that the "Thing" had been pacified, to his satisfaction...
Which is how I knew that someone was sleeping in the Brown house.
I was to find out, a couple of hours later, exactly who that was... ha ha...
And back to the original story... ha ha...
Mother possum had stopped half way along the pergola bridge, and was engaging in a moment of self congratulation... ha ha...
Her offspring, Luggage, was still asleep in the Old house.
When she gets up, later on, she'll look around with that "She's done it again, wandered off without me..." look and then go and amuse herself climbing around on the bridges...
Mother has walked on, to the Brown house...
Most possums stop and sniff the edge of the doorway, to see who's there....
But Mother possum is not most possums... ha ha...
She poked her head into the doorway, and Susan squealed at her, indignantly...
Susan, in order to escape the intrusion, pushed her way past Mother....
I didn't think I made those entrance corridors that wide, but apparently I did, ha ha...
Susan stopped about half way along the connecting bridge, crouched down and sulked... ha ha.
Meanwhile, Mother busied herself inside the house...
Which is probably no more complicated than rubbing her cheek glands against the walls - scent marking in all it's glory, ha ha...
Susan stopped sulking when she realised she wasn't going to get any sympathy, ha ha, and headed off along the bridges...
Mother came out of the house, having assured herself that she had put everything at rights with the World, walked over to the pergola bridge, turned left and went to have some breakfast...
Not to the right, to reunite herself with her offspring... "What? Oh no, don't be silly, she'll be fine...".
This evening...
Mother and Luggage had slept in the Brown house...
Mother emerged from the house and walked slowly over the short bridge, closely followed by her offspring, who took advantage of Mother slowing as she turned onto the pergola bridge to jump onto her back...
"She's not getting away from me that easily...", said the little possum... ha ha...
Possum fur, possum wool might be a more correct description is tough stuff... I've got a remnant from the last time that somebody literally got a strip torn off them, and I can see how little possum claws, clinging on tightly, could leave an impression...
Being a possum Mum is a tough life, but they must love it because they keep going back and doing it again... ha ha...
🙂
