I'll have mine to go

Every morning before I get in the shower, I pull back the window curtain and look out over my backyard. From the second floor I can see what's blooming or if the birdbath needs to be filled.

A few days ago I saw this:













"Eeeew. What's that?", I hollered to the person most likely to know who was still in bed. "What's in the backyard that looks like worms?"


"Spaghetti for the possums."


Oh, of course. I should have known.



In the past we have fed scraps to the possums who we think lived under the shed. I haven't seen them lately. Perhaps they moved to a yard with better scraps.

"They are not going to eat spaghetti. If this slop is still there tomorrow, you better clean it up."

"Yes dear."

Since I didn't have to go to work until later in the day, I was able to observe this:









and this:












I missed a really good shot of a giant crow with a big wad of pasta in his beak.


When I got home that night, the possum feeder said a neighbor's cat had stopped by to lick the sauce when the pasta was all gone.


And the next day:












All that remained was a hint of Prego.

I was wrong, OK. But I don't think the possums got any.


(Ahem .. these photos are fuzzy because the idiot photographer wasn't bright enough to raise the window screen. D'oh.)