For years I’ve heard speak of possums without really knowing much about them. Sure, I have heard of possum-pie, but it was always assumed to be a silly reference to roadkill, or a specialty for a cafe appropriately named The Roadkill Cafe.

About a year ago, I began seeing locations under my fence where a creature has been transiting through. I knew it would not be a cat, because no matter how arrogant they are, they are smart and have the agility to go over the fence, and it was too small for a dog unless it was a very small chihuahua.

My first thought was the neighborhood squirrels, Bubba and Bubbette using the route, but that too did not make sense, because they prefer the top of the fence. So, using my keen sense of thinking, I reasoned it had to be one of those possums I’ve heard of.

On our fence, I have placed a small platform where I put food that is no longer something we would eat, but a squirrel would. Yesterday, I cut up several oranges that neither of us wanted, but should have eaten weeks ago. I also placed pieces of cookies, and other squirrel delicacies in the past the squirrels will enjoy. On hot days, they get the items in the mornings or evenings when it is cooler.

So, when I went outside for my usual pee before going to bed, I noticed a faint outline on the platform that seemed out of place. No tell-tale bushy tail, so I was baffled. I watched the nocturnal thief until it loaded up orange pieces and slowly walk away along the fence top. That is when I caught the sure tell-tale sign of a small pointy tail, so I knew it had to be a possum.

I looked up possum on the web and was surprised to see the possum is often misnamed, because there are possums and opossums. It turns out, my back fence thief is an opossum. Below is a picture taken off the web somewhere.

While writing this, I began to wonder exactly what possum-pie taste like. Should I set a trap?

I love reading success stories. I have a few charities I donate to, which are usually charities that help children, and I am most interested in those stories from Africa. A while back, I came across an image that shook me at my core.

In Nigeria, it is unfortunately common for a religious leader in a village to declare a child a witch, and the child is left alone to fend for itself and die. Below is an image in 2016, of one such child that was found by a Danish woman named Anja Ringgren Lovén, while in Nigeria.

She rescued him, and realizing the horror that takes place daily in the superstitious country of Nigeria, she started a charity that finds these kids and lets them grow up to live normal lives. She named this little guy Hope, which is fitting. He is doing well and here is what he looks like now.

Here is what Anja says about him today:

Hope survived. He graduated this year and starts secondary school next month.

His story is world famous and every day I look at him and feel so grateful for his incredible development.

If you get to know Hope you are lucky because he is so very unique. Hope is deaf but despite that he is able to communicate using sign language.

Hope graduated primary school with one of the highest grades.

Not only is he very intelligent, he is a talented artist, an excellent dancer, he is very warm and caring and on top of that he has a great sense of humor.

All the above makes me happy but some days it makes me think about the thousands of “Hope’s” out there who we will never get to know.

Never get to know because their lives are short. Once a child is accused of being a witch it’s the end.

But we will never give up. It’s an uphill battle but with your support to Land of Hope we will continue to save lives.

This world is full of ignorance and apathy, even in the civilized country of the US. Because of that, many innocent suffer, and it seems to be the younger ones. It is people like Anja that shines light in the darkness. No amount of darkness can put out the light of even one candle, but that candle has to be lit by at least one person.

The famous Russian author, Leo Tolstoy stated: A political party has never accomplished anything for humanity. Individuals and geniuses have been the pioneers of every reform and of progress.

Anja has opened a center just for rescuing the “witch children” in Nigeria from superstitious idiots. It is hard to fathom the myths found in Africa, but it does still exists, and I fear forever will.

The birds we spoke about a few weeks ago have come back. I noticed the white spots in the backyard again, and thanks to a nice couple I met outside, I now know not to scrape some up and taste it as they are simply bird poop. I have witnessed the birds first hand in the yard and can recognize them to be the Mississippi kites. There are also large black birds.

My lovely wife set up a bird bath and a stone fountain in the backyard, where she can sit in the back and watch the birds. This is a minute video I was able to get of one of the black birds indulging. You will have to turn the volume up to hear it bellow. Later on, there were 4 or 5 birds arguing over the water rights.

So, this post is more about the black birds than the Mississippi kites. When I fire up the lawnmower to put it to work, the birds show up to look for something to eat, something uncovered; so there must be bugs they can see. Below is an image I took one-handed because I had to keep the other one on the lawnmower to keep it running. If the mower stops, then the birds take off. Because they know if the mower is going, there will be delicious bugs to consume. No mower and the big ugly human will attack them.

This encounter with the birds reminds me of the Kempinski hotel in Djibouti City. When you step outside by the pool for a drink and food, these birds show up looking for a handout. One morning, Terese was outside with a pastry and coffee, when one of the birds flew overhead and knocked the comb out of her hair. When she bent over to pick it up, they stole her pastry.

The other day when I sat outside Starbucks with coffee and a delicious croissant, one of the big black birds started hanging around me. First walking casually by as if minding its own business; then each time it walked by, it was a little closer. Then it hopped up on the fence nearby, and gradually walked along the fence until it was directly behind me, just two feet from my shoulder. At that point, remembering Djibouti, I covered my croissant (chocolate, I must add) with my hand until I finished eating. I could almost feel the dejection from the bird. I will add, that I actually thought of casually bending over to allow the thief to try to snatch my delicious croissant, then catch the bird with my bare hands; but just my luck, some liberal inside sipping their frata-late-chia (or whatever they drink), will see me, and report me for animal cruelty. So, I just finished my food and drink and left.

During the ten years I worked for the US Government, I have dealt with many patience-testing situations. Most people in the Government see themselves as the epitome of the Government. The cutting edge of the knife. So, I learned by injecting just a hint of humor into a situation, the dealings go much easier. You can compare humor to the grease of the wheel.

So, in setting up my retirement, I dealt with realms of paperwork, full of numbers and acronyms. In an attempt to adjust my insurance on my retirement, I needed the “account” of the paperwork. I put the word in quotes, because I have been getting my monthly retirement flawlessly since retiring, and the number that shows up on any paperwork I have, has a number that makes no sense. During phone conversations, people will ask me my account number and I give them what I have.

“Uh, no sir. That is not the correct number.” Then they go on to tell me what little box has the number; and I tell them, that is the number in the little box. I’ve had several more instances that are much worse than this one.

So, the need has come up to make a change on my insurance, so I decided to tackle finding the correct number once and for all. I found the email address for the information, and wrote a very concise message, after which I added the hint of humor. Many times the people ignore the hint or possibly never notice it, because they seldom read the entire message.

Well, the message worked. When I was in the bathroom this morning, beginning my daily constitution, I got a call from them. It took only a few minutes of explaining the situation, and the kind lady was able to help. I now have a number.

Then she added, “So, it says here you are going to dance at my wedding . . .”

That took me a little off guard and I started to say, “Don’t be silly,” until I remembered the hint of humor I added: “If anyone can find what number I have, or direct me to someone who can help, I will gladly dance at their next wedding provided alcohol is provided.”

So, I replied, “Huh, . . . is alcohol provided?”

After that, the conversation kinda fell apart, so I don’t remember if I have to dance or not. Just my luck, in the next few months, a black suburban will drive up to the house to take me to a wedding, and I don’t dance.