<TITLE>10. Par 33-35</TITLE>L-33 Well, I happened to notice then, and Leo and Gene came out, the boys here. And I noticed that the old opossum's leg on the left side was swollen about three times the size, and it was broke and hanging back. And I hope I do not turn your stomach, but it was rotten; the flies had blowed it; maggots was all in it; and was hanging sideways. And I said, "Oh, it's hurt. The dogs has broke its legs, or either a car has hit it." And I said, "It's dying." I said, "It's probably in its last struggle."
And some of the neighbors come over to look. And Mrs. Wood is one, she come up; and while I was holding the opossum down, I happened to notice that... A opossum and a kangaroo is the only animals that have a pocket to pack their young in. And they have a pocket, it's skin; it goes over the young. And they pack them, and they let it down.
So when the old mother opossum had been under this rake, she'd let her pocket down; and nine little bitty baby opossums, about that long, was running around under the rake.
And I said, "Here you are boys," to Leo and Gene. I said, "This opossum is far more a lady and a mother, than that woman was that drowned her baby. It's got better morals than that woman has." I said, "That woman didn't want her baby, and this old opossum hasn't got maybe thirty minutes longer to live. But she'll give that thirty minutes or forfeit her life to fight for those babies. That's a real mother."

L-34 And how these women today can have abortionate cases, and practice birth control, and everything else; and I don't understand it. Take little babies, and throw them in garbage cans, and put them on...?... drown them in rivers, and throw them in fires. It's below a animal. An animal wouldn't do that.
And while we were talking, the old opossum still trying to get those young ones up. And when the little ones caught up again, she kept biting at the rake. I said, "Watch, I'm going to turn her loose. She won't go but a little piece; she's dying. That's what's a running her, death like that, a running her." And then when I let up the rake, she took off towards the house dragging this foot. And she went right up to my steps by the side of the little evergreen bush, and there collapsed, and went out.
I went up to her; I shook her, and she didn't move. I said, "I guess she's died." And I happened to look, and all those little baby opossums were trying to nurse. And I said, "What a pity." I took the rake down and punched the old opossum; I seen that little grin like on that goes back on the opossum. I said, "No, she's living."

L-35 And Mrs. Wood said, "Brother Branham, now, there's only one thing to do," she's a doctor, veterinary. She said, "Kill the old mother. The little ones has a round mouth; they can't be raised. And then just pick up the little ones, and kill them quickly, so they won't suffer."
I said, "I just can't do it."
And she said, "Do you mean to tell me, that you're going to let that mother lay there and die, in that...?... and them poor little opossums nurse around for about forty-eight hours and die in that condition with...? You mean you're going to do that, Brother Branham?"
I said, "Sister Wood, you're perhaps right. But I just can't do it. She's done displayed to me something that's far beyond what a lot of people has. She's a real mother." I said, "I can't kill that mother."
She said, "Well, go in a get your gun, and shoot her then, and shoot the little ones." Said, "You're a hunter."
I said, "I am a hunter, but I'm not a killer." I said, "I can't kill that mother."
And she said, "You're going to let her lay there in that hot sun." We got some water and poured over her: look like she was gone.


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