OK, so it’s not a weasel. Heck, it’s not even in the same ballpark taxonomically speaking. It’s a marsupial, a Virginia opossum (a.k.a. possum; Didelphis virginiana) in point of fact, but that’s as close as I had to a photo of a weasel at night. For that matter, minks are as close to weasels around these parts, and they’re about impossible to photograph since we’re in the middle of Big D and the critters stick to a strict nocturnal routine given all the diurnal activity. But anyway…
The point is that I’m alive, that xenogere hasn’t gone the way of the dodo, and that life goes on regardless of my meanderings about its many peripheries. Hopefully—and soon—I’ll get back to a more regular posting schedule. And hopefully I’ll get back to visiting my many online friends. But until then…
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Title is from a quote:
Love is a snowmobile racing across the tundra and then suddenly it flips over, pinning you underneath. At night, the ice weasels come.
— Matt Groening
As for the opossum:
Photography at night is difficult. Doing it without using flash is near impossible. But I hate flash, hate using it, hate seeing it, hate trying to pretend it doesn’t suck the life out of everything it touches. I’ve gotten better, though. I have some photos of Baket taken after dark—around the same time this opossum photo was taken—and it shows a marked improvement in quality even without using a flash.