Posted Aug 12, 2003
Our German friend Joachim belonged to the "Poke it with a stick" school of naturalists. The most memorable example of that was on a trip I missed, when he and Jim came across a rattlesnake curled up on a forest path. Rattlesnakes were up there with strike-anywhere matches on Joachim's list of Essential Americana, and as we hadn't been able to dig up any of the matches for him, Jim wanted to provide him with a chance to get a good close look at the pit viper.
"Get me a forked stick" Jim told him, wanting something to secure the snake's head so he could pick it up without harm to himself or the snake. (Jim often seems to be of the opinion that his helpers read his mind, but that's another story). As Joachim returned with the stick, Jim moved into position to be near the snake and the snakestick when Joachim handed it to him.
Joachim poked the snake enthusiastically with the stick and it struck at Jim (missing him, thank goodness!) and hurried out of the neighborhood.
On another day we were going out to Pine Hills. First stop was Winter's Pond. We had with us Joachim's rambunctious half-grown Black Labrador mix puppy, Heidi. She was going through a new phase, and on the drive to the nature preserve, he regaled us with an annotated list of the various animal corpses in various stages of putrefaction that she had dragged home lately, assuring us, when he saw my look of distaste, that he had bathed her thoroughly after each time she had rolled in her prize.
She bounded out of the car, delighted with a return to the swamp, and after a few liberated barks I heard Joachim groan, "Oh no. She's found another one!"
Heidi had dropped a possum at his feet. She was nosing it as it lay inertly on its back.
Jim laughed. "It's just playing possum."
"What?" asked Joachim.
"Possums faint when they're frightened. Come on, call her off it. It'll be fine."
"Even possums die," I said tentatively.
"Look how good its coat looks!" said Jim. "It's fine. Let's go."
"Good point!" I said, cheering up.
Possums have a coarse coat that looks dirty and unkempt at its best. Joachim didn't look convinced that this one was in the glow of health. "It looks dead to me," he growled.
"It will have slunk off by the time we get back," Jim predicted confidently.
"Wait, I want to get some pictures!" I said, remembering my new camera, and I snapped a few quick shots of Heidi barking at her prize.
I took photos of our squat yellow water-lotus, whose rounded, cupped leaves and intriguing seed pods are more interesting than the blossom itself, if you ask my opinion. The guys and Heidi explored for snakes and frogs in the other direction, and then we converged on the car.
The possum was still there.
"I told you it was dead!" said Joachim.
"I saw its ear twitch!" I cried happily. "Listen, keep Heidi back, can we wait just a little bit? I'd love to get a shot of it running off to go with the other pictures."
Joachim looked at the possum critically. It was lying in the same position, but it did seem more alert now. He defected to our camp. The creature was alive, and if it were alive... "You want to see it run?" he asked me. He stepped over and picked up a stick. "I will make it run!"
"No!" I said, "you'll just..."
But Joachim stepped over and prodded it with the stick. It went completely limp again as if by magic.
Joachim couldn't figure out why it didn't jump up and scurry off.
By Ruby Jung, even the background. All rights reserved to the story. If you like the background, you're welcome to use it.