Mano e Mano

On Wednesday afternoon, I took a stroll out to the garden to visit my growing produce and discovered that nearly all of my ripening apples and pears were gone from the trees.

Possum.

Picture me, standing in the middle of the yard, shaking my fist to the heavens and shouting "possum."  Because that's how it played out.

A have-a-heart trap has been ordered but won't arrive for a few days.  In the meantime, I have undertaken emergency measures to protect the rest of my produce. 

The hot pepper spray is the usual granola-girl, organically minded solution.  The fox urine is also claims to be organic, though I have no earthly idea how the hell the fox's urine was collected.  For $5, I don't care.  The wine is for me, the stressed out gardener.

I'm not sure this animal control arsenal will be sufficient.  I will also leave a backyard motion sensor light on all night long to see if that scares the little fucker.  Then the trap will arrive and I will either catch my arm in it or promptly catch every stray cat and sweet bunny in the hood.  Worse yet?  I'll catch the possum and feel bad about it.

Updates as warranted.