God damn it.
This morning, there was a fat and dead possum right in front of my house. I wasn't about to let it stay there and stink for days, so I took a plastic bag out to collect the carcass. One dead big possum, one dead baby possum, and one living baby possum.
Fuck.
I checked her pouch for other babies and there were none, so she and her dead baby went into the dumpster and I was left with this tiny thing whose eyes weren't even open. Jeezow. Man, I don't like possums, but what could I do? I couldn't just kill it or let it die without trying to save it. I brought it inside and googled "baby possum."
I went to the general store and bought some Gatorade because they don't carry Pedialyte. I wrapped it in a wash cloth and held it close to my chest, as it was cool. Not cold. The next directive was to get it to a wildlife rehab person asap.
Again, Google to the rescue. I found this place not too far from me, over in Kentucky.
Monica just happened to have a mama possum with older babies, and she was still producing milk, and when she put the tiny one into her pouch, she accepted it and it began to nurse. Yay!
Monica had a baby beaver, several wild bunnies, a heron, numerous birds including a duck in her hospital. She takes in everything that is brought to her.
So. If you have a few extra dollars, consider donating to her or your local rehabilitation center.
Thank you.
4 comments:
Hi Fuzzarelly,
I love your kind soul.
Hugs, Euphoria
I'm so glad you found somewhere for the baby! We, too, have had cause to be grateful to our local rescue centers; it's amazing the amount of work they do on a shoestring (or less).
Bless you, for digging around in the pouch and for rescuing the wee one.
I used to transport rescued possums, birds and even skunks. The people who rehabbed them had the toughest job.
This sort of thing never happens at my house. City life. Kinda sad.
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