Possums

Possum! Um, Um, Good

/ cigarman501 / 4 Comments

“Reagan promised everyone a seven-course dinner. Ours turned out to be a possum and a six-pack.”  -Jim Hightower

I am not sure about what got me thinking about possums. It could be the three flattened bodies I saw between the mile and a quarter drive from Highway 25 to my driveway. It seems like they commit mass suicide every so often. I thought of another quote, “Why did the chicken cross the road? To prove to the possum that it could be done.”  S. Truett Cathy said it, but I’m not sure the possums were paying attention.

I’ve had a love hate relationship with possums. I loved the little one on the side of my running path, its heart shaped head glowing in the reflection of my running lamp. I thought it was some unknown flower bloom until I saw its eyes blink. Little one must have fallen out of momma’s pouch. Never fear, momma was close by and when I returned the little joey was absent. Joey is what baby possums are called. Cute name but the adult versions are anything but cute. Only a face a Momma could love.

I remember another trying to escape my chain link fence with a corn cob in its mouth. He couldn’t quite figure out how to get the cob through the chain link. Eventually he turned toward me and grinned like a possum eating persimmons before scurrying over the fence. I tossed the cob after him. I hope he appreciated it.

Yawning Baby possum playing in flowerbed showing all his teeth.

Don’t get me wrong. Possums get a bad rap. Rarely do they get the rabies they are accused of carrying and they are quite beneficial, scavenging for rotting fruit and vegetables, eating ticks and other icky insects.

Despite their mouths full of misshapen teeth, they are very docile. They may show you their teeth and hiss, but it is a ruse. If threatened, they play dead…no, they really do. They don’t have a choice; it is an involuntary physiological response to danger. Think of it as a fainting spell due to seeing a mouse sort of reaction. That is where my hate relationship with possums comes in.

I have a couple of persimmon trees in my yard and possums love overripe persimmons. I also have Blue Heelers puppy dogs. Persimmons, possums, and puppy dogs are a bad mix. During persimmon season, when I let my pups out for their pre-dawn constitutional, many mornings they would intercept Mrs. Possum coming down from the persimmon tree, catching the marsupial on the ground.

Proud of themselves, Maddie or Tilly would bring their prize indoors and stand over the possum waiting for their “Good Dog” treat. Many mornings I came out of my bathroom to find a possum playing dead…and then suddenly it would resurrect, and I would find myself chasing a wild animal around the house trying to capture it in a pasteboard box before my puppies turned it into a bloody mess. The present two heelers, Quigley and Cora, have yet to discover possums…chipmunks are a different subject.

Note: I’m guessing that Maddie and Tilly caught the same possum several times.

I love them more than I hate them, but I don’t love them enough to want to eat them. Oh, the thought. While they have a rat like tail, they are not rodents, but I can’t get the vision of eating a rat out of my head. Squirrels you say. Well don’t that beat all. Squirrels are rodents. Might need to rethink those squirrel dumplins’.

My great grandfather ate possum. I know this because periodically my grandmother would capture one for him. He’d say, “Addie, I have a hankerin’ for some possum.” Being a dutiful daughter, she would set up a rabbit gum under the persimmon tree in her yard and check it every morning until she caught one. She might catch a rabbit or two before she caught the possum…or maybe a raccoon. She’d put the possum in a cage to fatten it on corn for a couple of weeks and then take it to her mother to turn into possum stew…which might have been eatable had you left out the possum.

I made the mistake of researching possum recipes. One I loved, one I hated…see, love hate relationship.

This one is from the 1941 New American Cookbook. Nothing says America like roast possum. Try not to gag.

Plunge a 2–3-pound possum into very hot but not boiling water for 2 minutes. Pull out or scrape off hair without damaging skin. Slit belly from throat to hind legs. Remove entrails, feet, eyes, and brains. Do not remove the head or tail. Wash thoroughly. If possible, freeze for 3 or 4 days. That would be a hard NO! Are we leaving the head on so that we know it isn’t a dog?

When ready to cook, wipe the possum with a cold, damp cloth. Sprinkle with salt and pepper. Put in roasting pan. Add 1 cup water and juice of 1 lemon. Bake in hot oven (400°F) for 15 minutes, turning once. Cover. Reduce heat and bake in moderate oven (350°F) for 1 1/4 to 1 1/2 hours. Enjoy.

The second recipe is much better.

 Southern Possum Pie. Recipe from https://www.allrecipes.com/recipe/218440/southern-possum-pie/

Ingredients

2 (3 ounce) packages cream cheese, softened

¾ cup confectioners’ sugar

1 (9 inch) prepared graham cracker crust

¼ cup chopped pecans

⅓ cup instant chocolate pudding mix

¼ cup instant vanilla pudding mix

2 cups cold milk

¾ teaspoon vanilla extract

½ cup heavy cream, whipped

30 pecan halves

Directions

Beat softened cream cheese and confectioners’ sugar together in a large bowl with an electric mixer until smooth. Spread mixture into the bottom of prepared graham cracker crust. Sprinkle chopped pecans over mixture.

Stir chocolate and vanilla pudding mixes together in a separate large bowl; pour in milk and vanilla extract. Beat on low speed for 2 minutes, spoon into the pie pan.

Cover the pie and refrigerate for at least 2 hours. Top with prepared whipped cream and pecan halves.

I do love any possum recipe that doesn’t include possum!

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Don Miller writes in various genres. His author’s page may be found at https://www.amazon.com/stores/Don-Miller/author/B018IT38GM?ref=ap_rdr&store_ref=ap_rdr&isDramIntegrated=true&shoppingPortalEnabled=true

A Smiling Possum with a Corn Cob

/ cigarman501 / 5 Comments

All is not well in the foothills of the Blue Ridge. We’ve found our little piece of heaven comes with unintended consequences. 

As the area around us began to build up as others decided to carve out their own little pieces of heaven, we made the decision to turn ours into a wilderness preserve.  Ninety acres of mixed forest, rolling hills (that’s a lie perpetuated by a realtor, more like small mountains), and wildlife galore. 

We can live in harmony with most but some of the wildlife are…well…quite brazen.  The bear that periodically tears down my fence and scatters the trash comes to mind or the deer that samples my Hosta.  The brood of chipmunks who make me laugh until they dig into the flower pots and seed bag. I can live with them.  It is we who are encroaching on them.  I can pick up the trash and the Hosta grows back.  The chain link I don’t like anyway. 

Our latest issue is a raccoon.  Brazen little….  He began raiding my suet cakes until I acted.  He is not a happy camper.  Tonight, he stood upright looking through the window into our sunken den.  My bride was enthralled and tried to snap a picture.  I knew this wasn’t going to end well. 

Raccoon hanging on our window screen waiting for a peanut butter sandwich | Animals, Raccoon, Critter
Hey, is that a peanut butter sandwich? Photo from Pinterest.

“Oh, he’s hungry.  What can we feed him?”

“Nothing, he’s a wild animal and besides, there are berries everywhere.” 

“We have that old dogfood, do you think….”

In a very conservative friend’s voice I thought but didn’t say, “He needs to get off his ass and go to work.  See what free handouts get you?” Believe me it was my friends voice, not mine. I have not problems with handouts for the needy.  I didn’t say it because my bride had already walked out the door with dry dogfood. I hope Rocky Raccoon doesn’t have a family.

I fully expect this little bandit to knock on the door and ask, “When is supper served? Should I bring a red or a white?” 

I now bring the suet cakes in at night and if he figures out how to reach the bird feeders, I’m sure I’ll have to bring them in too. He doesn’t seem to like sunflower seeds.  Lord help us if he figures out the door handles.  I see him rifling through the fridge and writing out a shopping list.

The racoon climbs to the top of the rod and reaches down to try and open the bird feeder for a snack
https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-8330163/Man-gives-hilarious-commentary-raccoon-breaks-garden-bird-feeder-tasty-snack.html

As the morning dawned, I stood in front of the kitchen sink playing the previous evening’s festivities over in my mind.  Dawn was just breaking, and I turned off the light to get a better view of the flat and creek behind the house. Colors were still mostly muted blues and gray with a hint of green but light enough for me to see.

I caught movement from the corner of my eye and saw a possum waddling by. He was inside of the fence, a fresh corncob from my compost bin was held in his mouth.  The possum paused looking up at the fence as if to say, “A preposition is anything a possum with a corncob in his mouth can do to a fence.  Go over it, around it, under it, or through it.”  My fourth or fifth grade English teacher should be proud but he won’t go through it with the corn cob.

I tapped on the windowpane and the possum turned toward the noise, dropped the cob, and grinned. “Like a possum eating persimmons”, I thought despite the fact we are months from ripe persimmons.  When I tapped again, he grabbed his booty and slowly made his way over the fence before disappearing into the Tiger lilies.

I fell into a warm memory.  Warm now, not so much then.  My beautiful puppies, Mattie and Tilly, would bring me gifts in the form of possums they had caught climbing down from the persimmon tree.  Caught but in most cases not killed.  It is called playing possum for a reason.

I can see them clearly in my mind’s eye, sitting and puppy dog smiling, tails wagging as they waited for their “good puppy” treat.  A possum laying at their feet as if sacrificed to their puppy dog god. Damn, I miss those puppies.

One possum revived itself and tried to make an escape through our dining room door causing a scene from the “Keystone Cops” to play out as we attempted to chase her into a pasteboard box.  Success was attained but it was a near thing.

Another worried us to death because of the eight babies latched onto her back.  Worried until the critter opened an eye and winked.  Not to fear, she wandered off after being deposited outside of the fence, the babies hanging on for dear life.

Many is the time I have said prayers of thanks that their gifts were possums and not skunks.  I’m sure we have them too, but sometimes good fortune can’t be explained. 

Sometimes all it takes to brighten a day is a grinning possum with a corncob.

Figure 2. Juvenile opossums hanging out.
My favorite possum picture. Credit: Frank Lukasseck/Corbis, backyardzoologist.wordpress.com. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/3.0/us/

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Don Miller’s author’s page can be found at https://www.amazon.com/Don-Miller/e/B018IT38GM?fbclid=IwAR2L-7MYr7YwIZvXAu4uKWCZ-MWUeCQ3hBRpraJcjGpH8yJ7KPVmbMgPVRI