Hello, I have a dirty nose.
"There's a weird creature in the field. I think it's a possum."
This was followed by the closest encounter with an opossum I've had in a long while. It was nosing around in the old sunflower field, in between snow patches. Nosing very...very...slowly, as opossums often do. I would think that this slowness alone was a symptom of some kind of possum-ailment had I not seen other, healthy opossums foraging at the same...glacial...pace...previously. Similar to the impossible pace of a sloth. But this individual was also shivering a little at the mouth, and it let me get a little too close without seeming even a little alarmed. I took some nice pictures of it. Then I started to feel guilty. Like I (a warm and well-fed human) was happily snapping pictures of a dying man. I left the possum to live out its last hours in dignity.
The possum in perspective. Why do all my shots have Point Mountain in the background?
Good bye. I left the possum to live out its last hours in peace.