POOR PETER POSSUM

Peter Possum had been born one spring, the youngest of six brothers and sister. He was also the smallest and as a baby his brothers and sisters walked all over him. Even his mother sometimes forgot he was around until she counted noses and then she’d call out. “Peter, Peter Possum where are you, where are you hiding this time?” He wasn’t really hiding at all most of the time. He was usually squashed under his big brother Reginald’s left foot or still curled under a pile of leaves waiting to be found by his brothers and sisters when they were playing hide and seek. Peter would hide and of course they would wander off to find something more interesting to do and never bother to find him. More often than not he would fall asleep while he was waiting to be found, that is until he heard his mother calling.

Peter’s mother and father had settled in a hollow oak near the top of a place called Elm Hill. It was near a large farm and there were apple and pear and plum trees and huge gardens to raid, beech and butternut trees in the wood lots; it was an ideal place to live if it wasn’t for the weather. There were plenty of grubs and beetles and wonderful eggs they could get from the hen house. Sometimes they even managed to feast on dog food left by the farmer’s dog or left over scraps of food the humans had left outside. They’d found a wonderful home in the rafters above the hay mow until the farmers dog had found them. That had been a narrow escape. They had just been returning from a night of foraging and were about to enter the barn and head up to the loft when they were met in the doorway by a snarling Horace Hound. It was run for your life and fortunately that hound was attached to a chain that twanged as he yelped when he reached the end of his tether. They had made it to the edge of the woods and then moved into a new home the very next day. Mother possum had said she would not risk going back there and Father had found them a new home, their home in the hollow oak. That is where they had lived until the monsters came.

Winters were very cold and their coats were pretty thin for Northern New England weather but they had learned from the squirrels and the raccoons and had learned to survive. Leaves and straw were the answer, lots of leaves and straw to burrow into for warmth when the north wind blew and the snow piled deep. Winters were really hard but they had survived and Peter had paid close attention to the way his parents did things. He’d learned how to live in the North Country and nature takes care of its own. He now had a thicker coat than his southern cousins. In fact, his coat was quite handsome. The only problem he had was keeping his tail and toes warm. Sometimes they got so cold he was afraid they would freeze right off but so far Peter and his tail and toes had survived. He had survived three winters but now there were giant monsters lurking about and life became more dangerous by the day.

His family had followed and Uncle Pelattious T. Possum, three cousins and their friend Poke and Mrs. Poke and their son and four daughters, one of them being Miss Posy on their trek to Vermont a little over three years ago. Posy had been born the same spring as Peter and she was as sweet a girl possum as could be. They had been really little when they had all trekked north but Peter and Posy had made it, having been allowed to ride a lot of the way on Momma Possum’s back. Peter was kind of sweet on Posy. Posy’s family lived on the next ridge, a place called Cherry Hill, not far from their own hill home. Peter’s family often visited with Poke Possum’s family. Those were the best and happiest times Peter could remember but then one day great metal monsters and humans came and began cutting down the forest. It wasn’t safe there anymore. Poke Possum decided to move his family across the valley to a place he had heard about called Pudding Hill. Cassias Crow had said it would be a safer place. Poor Peter. He was the saddest day of his young life the day the Poke Possum family left their hill to cross the valley but he promised Posy someday, when they were old enough, he would cross the valley too. He would come for her and they would make their own home together and Posy promised to wait for him, even if it was forever.

It wasn’t long before the monsters came to Elm Hill too. It was a most frightening experience and several times the family had to run for their lives being wakened from their sleep as the trees shook and the ground trembled as the monsters attacked and gobbled up the land. Somehow in all the commotion the family had become separated and one day poor Peter found himself quite alone in the world. From dawn to dusk those monsters rampaged and growled and gobbled up the land. It frightened Peter and it worried him. The raccoon family had moved away by midsummer. There was still the skunk family around and a couple families of gray squirrel. Wesley Weasel and his family still lived down on the river and there was a family of Muskrats still living there and the Mallards but the Loons had already left and so had the Herons. The Mallards would be leaving soon. Even the Bank Rats had run for their lives and the Beavers had moved farther downstream to build a new dam and homes before winter came. Folks were moving away by the droves, even the birds said they would have to find a new place to live when they returned from winter vacation in Georgia. Peter had stayed. He’d waited for two full moons for his family to return but not one of them had come back. He didn’t know where they were.

The day the monsters had attack their home, Peter had run and hidden in a hollow log that was suddenly shoved by one of the giant monsters. It had been pushed with such force it had sent him rolling down a steep embankment where he had landed in a brook and barely made it out alive. By the time he had made it ashore and up the bank his family was nowhere to be found. They could be anywhere and he had no idea what direction to start looking in so he had stayed and he had waited hoping the monsters hadn’t gobbled them up too and that someone, someone in his family would return. Night after night while he searched for food he also looked for his brothers and sisters and his mother and father and as each night passed he wandered closer and closer to the humans’ village and the way that would take him across the valley, maybe to his family and hopefully to sweet Posy Possum.

It was October when Peter decided he’d had enough of the monsters and the waiting and anyhow food was becoming scarce with those monsters gobbling up everything in their path. One night Peter decided to strike out on his own and cross the valley in search of Miss Posy Poke Possum. He knew she was somewhere across the valley and he would find her. If he was going to go, he had to go now. He couldn’t wait any longer. The weather was already growing cold. Mornings were now frosty and nights often brought chill winds and icy rains. He couldn’t wait any longer. Winter was not far off. He would have to cross the wide valley and find a place to settle in before the snows came and hopefully he would find Posy.

It was on the second night of his journey that Peter ran into some rather serious trouble. He had been following a gully that wound its way toward the human’s village and had been munching on a few tasty grubs and a few late berries on his way when he suddenly stopped and sniffed the air. Oh something smelled really good and really tasty; and Peter was still really hungry. He left the grubs he had just found under some fallen leaves and hurried down the gully toward that wonderful aroma. It reminded him of those wonderful meals back on the farm before Horace Hound had frightened them away and Mother had refused to ever go back there again, except for an occasional trip to the hen house. The closer he got the more sure he was that it was eggs and tomatoes and oh something else that smelled wonderfully delicious, maybe chicken.

As Peter came out of the gully he found himself in a wide clearing between the gully and the woods and the home of humans. He knew there were humans nearby. He could smell them but he could also smell that delicious aroma of dinner and Peter was very hungry. Cautiously he made his way across the clearing. He’d run a ways and then stop and listen and sniff the air. He was getting closer to dinner. He didn’t smell any scent like that of dog, like Horace Hound. Finally he found it. It was very close to the building. Silently, cautiously he made his way toward the plate of food some human had left sitting outside. He had no more than stepped up to that delicious plate of food when he heard a loud click, snap and something fell behind him. Peter spun around ready to fight for his life. Nothing. No one. He waited, he listened, he sniffed the air and then he was so overcome by hunger he threw caution to the wind and gobbled down his delicious feast. After a few minutes he turned to leave but he couldn’t go back the way he had come. He couldn’t go in any direction. He was trapped. He wasn’t hurt but he couldn’t leave. He had to find a way out. It would be daylight soon and he had to get back to the safety of the woods. He was also getting very tired and sleepy. Possums sleep in the day time.

By now he should be almost home and ready to settle in for a good sleep. Poor Peter. He tried everything he knew to find a way out of the predicament he found himself in but there was no way out. Finally he crawled into the farthest, darkest corner he could find and curled up into a ball and went to sleep. He dreamed about his family and Posy and he dreamed about the awful giant monsters.

Suddenly Peter was awakened by the sound of human voices. Peter glared at them and he growled and snarled. The humans didn’t seem the least bit frightened. They laughed and their laughter sounded like a whole flock of gobbling turkeys to Peter. Peter charged at them but he couldn’t escape the trap he was in. He retreated and stood there for a second and then fell over like he was dead and just laid there. Maybe if they thought he was dead they would open a gate and then he would run for his life and escape. A possum can run very fast when he has to. He could hear the humans talking but he couldn’t understand what they were saying. The only two words he recognized were “Pudding Hill.” What about Pudding Hill, he thought to himself as he laid there playing he was dead. He hoped there weren’t more of these awful traps there to maybe catch Posy or some of her family. “Oh Great Creator, why did you make humans? We were doing just fine until they came along.” Peter puzzled a lot of things in his mind as he lay perfectly still in his confinement. How did I ever get myself into such a mess. Now I may never find my family or ever see Posy again.
Peter felt the cage being lifted and then slid across something that made an awful scraping sound that hurt his ears. He heard something bang and then he heard a grumbling and growling sound and then he felt like he was moving but he wasn’t moving. He hadn’t even twitched a muscle or flicked a whisker. The growling soon became a loud purr and Peter felt like he was being lifted up and was flying. His heart was pounding so fast and so hard he thought maybe he really would die. Cautiously he opened his eyes and looked around. He didn’t know where he was and he could smell an awful odor, a village smell, a human smell and that same smell that the monsters gave off but not as heavy. He moved as far as he could into a corner of the cage and curled into a tight ball. It seemed an eternity before that feeling of flying went away and when it did he still felt a little dizzy. In just a few minutes he heard the human voices again and the cage made that awful grating sound and was being lifted. Peter didn’t move from his position. He could smell the fresh air. It smelled like the forest and leaves and flowers and berries. He could hear the sound of heavy footsteps on leaves and twigs and wondered where he was being carried off to but Peter didn’t move. Suddenly he realized he was on the beautiful ground again. The smell of the earth filled his nostrils and he breathed deeply. He heard a snap and a click and then the heavy footsteps moving away from him.

Peter stayed very still for several minutes until the heavy footsteps stopped and the smell of human was only slight. He opened his eyes and looked all around him. For just a minute he thought he was dreaming but no, it was real. The humans had left the gate open. In a split second Peter was on his feet and running for his life. He ran and he ran deep into the forest until he could no longer hear or smell the humans and then he stopped to catch his breath. He looked around. He sniffed the air. Oh the forest smelled so wonderful but what was that other scent. He sniffed again. His heart raced with excitement. That scent was Possum, his own kind. He moved toward the scent. He knew that scent. He’d know that scent anywhere. It was Momma. He hurried on through the forest and finally he found them. He shouted and woke Momma from her sleep. He woke up his sister and his brother and old Uncle Pelattious T. and some of his Possum cousins. They were all rejoicing at seeing Peter again and alive and well when more possums came running to see what all the commotion was about. It was the Poke Possums and there was Posy and oh she had grown up too and she was beautiful.

All the possums gathered round while Peter told them of his adventure and his narrow escape and then Mother Possum said, “We all really need to get some sleep and Peter needs to rest after such an adventure. Soon moon will rise and the stars will light up the night and it will be time to forage again.” And so everyone settled down to sleep and Peter curled down in a hummock of straw and leaves in a hollow beneath the roots of an old butternut tree and Posy, not wanting to lose Peter again snuggled down next to him. And they slept and they dreamed of happily ever after.

Annette Bromley