Tonight Paul didn't get out to the coop until just before 8 pm. He came back inside with a quicker than normal gait and a winded exclamation, "There's a 'possum in the chicken house." He grabbed the .22 and I threw my book across the bed, rolled out and pulled my boots on. Before I could make it to the coop I heard the familiar "pop" and correctly assumed that the chicken-eating marsupial's life had been snuffed out.
|Sorry, no free meals here buddy.|
The chickens dodged a bullet.
The opossum, not so much.