True tales of suburban terror

I'm a big wuss. Oh, yeah, I talk a mean game; I have a vile temper and a horrible outlook; I know how to kickbox and can identify at least a dozen vulnerable spots on the human body in a flash. But when actually confronted with something scary, I tend to freak out. Like this morning, when I looked at my next-door neighbor's porch. I expected to see at least one of the resident cats I'm so fond of, and maybe administer a morning nose-touch or head-scratch. Instead, I saw a possum the size of Mojo perched on the railing.

Seven and a half hours later, I'm still actively freaked out about it. It looked right at me!

Some of you, upon hearing the word "possum," might think of this. Or maybe this. I, meanwhile, think of this:

"Oh, he's yawning," says my officemate Carolyn. "They're still God's creatures, and everything is beautiful to its own kind," says my mom. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!" say I, as I frantically scramble back into the house.

How can you not be freaked out by a possum? They're nocturnal, man, they're not like us normal taxpaying folks; they don't play by our rules. Plus, they've got those big black soulless eyes and that long, skinny rat-like tail. They look like something out of a Tim Burton film -- the scary part of a Tim Burton film. Damn, I'm freaking myself out all over again.

As if that weren't bad enough, on my lunch break today, I had to swerve to avoid a passel of geese near my job. Geese are the second part of the Suburban Fauna Horror Trifecta (the third part being snakes, of course). And geese are even worse than possums because geese will fuck you up.

Geese are either too stupid or too flat-out hateful to have a healthy fear of anything, so they attack any living creature that comes near them. My father got too close to a goose when he was seven years old. He carried a nasty scar on his knee from that encounter for the rest of his life. That's the kind of damage a goose can do.

My dad was hardly the only victim of geese, either. Across the continent, nobody is safe from these honking menaces. The video in the third link shows plenty of goose aggression, but somehow neglects to show the goose's secondary weapon: plentiful, hair-trigger bowels. Seriously. Geese are made of hatred and poop, and they will not hesitate to assault you with both.

Thank God the day's almost over, and the weather is cold enough for most reptiles to stay... wherever they are. I'd hate to think I might run the chance of hitting the damn trifecta of terrifying suburban critters in one day. Nonetheless, in the words of the strange, disembodied voice in Eegah!, I plan to watch out for snakes.

Comments

[Maggie]

In Gloucester,VA you have a number of people who go around trolling up ditches so the roads don't get flooded. Its a bad day when one of them scoops up a possam and throws it in the air. A VERY BAD DAY.

[sudiegirl]

a few things:

1. My grandpa trapped a possum once in a "painless trap". We found out that even though they're mean, they like bacon grease.

2. Geese are stupid. I think the proper term for a group of them is "gaggle", but I don't know. We had some canadian geese lay eggs outside the door of Hecht's one year, and they would attack anyone that went past the nest. You would think they'd figure it out, but they operate on a totally different level.

3. I hit a duck with my brand-new car once. I think it was suicidal. Anyway, ducks have LOTS of feathers. Just so you know.

Smooches!

[kostgard]

It has never really occurred to me to think of it that way, but geese are indeed made entirely of hatred and poop. I think you hit the nail right on the head there. There is a geese/duck pond near my home and I live in terror of the day the geese will rise up and attack me and my dog when we go by on our walk. I feel your pain.

Possums are also made of evil. Growing up one would show up in our backyard on occasion and hiss at us. But they are really nothing compared to the armadillos that ran around my yard when I was in grad school in Southern Georgia. Those things freak me out.

Hilarious entry, as always!

[Cath]

Oh yeah, gaggle! I knew I was forgetting something. :)

[SueBee]

Do I sense the material for your next novel? Perhaps... Although I gotta tell you, those 4 pointy teeth aren't enough to spook me. UNLESS Possums have the bite-and-flail technique of furious cats down pat, because then I'd be a-running for the hills right beside you. Upon analyzation, other than those 4 freaky fangs, the rest of the toothiepegs are pity-inspiring, not even enough to eat halloween candy--and that is sad.
Still awaiting the release of "The Corpse Wore Bunny Slippers."

[sudiegirl]

Wow - that description of a goose (made out of hatred and poop) could describe me sometimes.

I'm a goose! *honk*

[Cheesemeister]

Geese can be mean. One of my great-aunts was pursued by a goose one time. My uncle laughed as he told the story!
I used to go feed the waterfowl at this cemetery that had a huge lake. There was a goose with a nest. She hissed at me but was perfectly happy to take the bread I had, then followed me around wanting more.
I've never dealt with a possum, but I can imagine that they might carry rabies, so I'd be cautious. I once stood well back and waited before going to my car when I saw an enormous male raccoon on the lawn of a house I was walking by. They can be mean and rabies-carrying too.