Pogo?The night of the Hunter’s Moon (which was late this year – 2 November), I heard a commotion at the back door. Something was rattling around in the recycles-tub where I put discarded glass awaiting collection. Donovan’s cat, Curly Joe, was peering out the bottom window into the dark. He was sitting up like a dog begging for a cookie, one paw on the window pane, the hair at the scruff standing at attention, his tail flailing side to side; was oddly silent, though, for such a vociferous cat.
Hmmm...what has his rapt attention, I wondered. I sneaked over to the door and flipped on the outside light. A huge, snow-white animal, with a big rat-like tail, was sniffing around the outdoor cat dish, looking for spills. Because of the size of this thing, I didn’t immediately recognize that it was a ‘possum. In fact, it wasn’t until it turned and faced the door, and I saw its distinctive pointy face, that I understood what the cat and I were watching.
This beast was easily twice the size of any ‘possum I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen aplenty. This guy was roughly 20” long from shoulder to butt, with another 6 to 8 inches of tail extending from there. Its head was about 8-9 inches long from snout to where the head curves into the crown, and maybe 7-8 inches across at the widest spot.
Its fur was stark white, all over; no brindle grey, as I’m used to seeing. Had jet black eyes about the size of nickels (about 25mm, I’m guessing). The only other color on the ‘possum was rose-pink, in a half-inch-wide scar that ran from its left shoulder diagonally across to its right hip. (Pink nose and toes, too, of course.) Sure would like to hear the story of that scar.
It looked like it weighed 18-25 pounds; could feed a family of four real easy, as some of my (very) distant cousins would say.
I tapped on the pane, trying to get its attention, but it ignored me, kept snuffling around for kitty-kibble. I turned away to grab my camera, only to see its naked tail rounding the gatepost, on its way down the alley toward the street, when I turned back. Without a photo, I knew this was going to become a “Should’ve seen the one that got away” tale when I told the kids about it.
Now I know what’s been eating all the persimmons from my two trees at the front of the house.
In searching for an image to use with this post, I learned a couple of things about ‘possums. They have opposable, clawless “thumbs” on their hind feet, the better to climb with, I guess. (Good guess, Martha, since they don’t throw fastballs.) They live, at most, 2 to 4 years in the wild, though most end up as road-kill long before their second birthday. (They’re like dogs: they don’t look both ways.)
They can’t control their feigning-death response to danger. A ‘possum’s first response is to open its mouth wide, which displays 50 or so needle-like teeth, and hiss to beat the band. Only when the threat doesn’t go away will its body fall into the coma-like state we call “playing possum.” This state can last for a few minutes to 3 or 4 hours. ‘Possums emit an extremely foul smelling green slime from the anus, which is enough – so I’ve heard tell – to make a bear puke for a week. (Such hyperbole, I know.)
My favorite ‘possum, ever, was the comic strip character, Pogo, artist Walt Kelly’s alter ego and best buddy. Pogo is sorely missed. The short-legged, foot-stool-shaped creature at my back door could have been Pogo’s great-Grandpa.
As for Curly Joe, he hesitates now before scooting out the door each morning. I thought it was because it’s colder out now, but maybe it’s because of the ‘possum. Can’t say as I blame him.
Hmmm...what has his rapt attention, I wondered. I sneaked over to the door and flipped on the outside light. A huge, snow-white animal, with a big rat-like tail, was sniffing around the outdoor cat dish, looking for spills. Because of the size of this thing, I didn’t immediately recognize that it was a ‘possum. In fact, it wasn’t until it turned and faced the door, and I saw its distinctive pointy face, that I understood what the cat and I were watching.
This beast was easily twice the size of any ‘possum I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen aplenty. This guy was roughly 20” long from shoulder to butt, with another 6 to 8 inches of tail extending from there. Its head was about 8-9 inches long from snout to where the head curves into the crown, and maybe 7-8 inches across at the widest spot.
Its fur was stark white, all over; no brindle grey, as I’m used to seeing. Had jet black eyes about the size of nickels (about 25mm, I’m guessing). The only other color on the ‘possum was rose-pink, in a half-inch-wide scar that ran from its left shoulder diagonally across to its right hip. (Pink nose and toes, too, of course.) Sure would like to hear the story of that scar.
It looked like it weighed 18-25 pounds; could feed a family of four real easy, as some of my (very) distant cousins would say.
I tapped on the pane, trying to get its attention, but it ignored me, kept snuffling around for kitty-kibble. I turned away to grab my camera, only to see its naked tail rounding the gatepost, on its way down the alley toward the street, when I turned back. Without a photo, I knew this was going to become a “Should’ve seen the one that got away” tale when I told the kids about it.
Now I know what’s been eating all the persimmons from my two trees at the front of the house.
In searching for an image to use with this post, I learned a couple of things about ‘possums. They have opposable, clawless “thumbs” on their hind feet, the better to climb with, I guess. (Good guess, Martha, since they don’t throw fastballs.) They live, at most, 2 to 4 years in the wild, though most end up as road-kill long before their second birthday. (They’re like dogs: they don’t look both ways.)
They can’t control their feigning-death response to danger. A ‘possum’s first response is to open its mouth wide, which displays 50 or so needle-like teeth, and hiss to beat the band. Only when the threat doesn’t go away will its body fall into the coma-like state we call “playing possum.” This state can last for a few minutes to 3 or 4 hours. ‘Possums emit an extremely foul smelling green slime from the anus, which is enough – so I’ve heard tell – to make a bear puke for a week. (Such hyperbole, I know.)
My favorite ‘possum, ever, was the comic strip character, Pogo, artist Walt Kelly’s alter ego and best buddy. Pogo is sorely missed. The short-legged, foot-stool-shaped creature at my back door could have been Pogo’s great-Grandpa.
As for Curly Joe, he hesitates now before scooting out the door each morning. I thought it was because it’s colder out now, but maybe it’s because of the ‘possum. Can’t say as I blame him.
(c) 2009 Martha McLemore
