I haven’t managed to get a picture yet but in the last week we have aquired a batch of Opossums.
Please note, these are “Opossums” as opposed to the Australian “Possum”.
We’ve seen as many as three at a time. They’ve been on our porch several nights in a row. I’m not sure why because we don’t put edible stuff on the porch. They’re cute little critters and I think I know where they live.
I’ve lived in this same place for 20 years and until last week I’ve seen one opossum. Now we have them in bunches.
I put some bread and cherry pie out by their presumed dwelling and the next day the food was gone.
I’m hoping to get them domesticated and then implant electrodes in their brains and turn them into instruments of my evil bidding.
Someone I know suspected one was getting in through the cat flap every now and then to enjoy a meal of cat kibble. The cats didn’t mind much. One night, the opossum emptied out a bottom drawer in the kitchen for the purposes of nesting in it.
By the time my friend discovered this the next morning, Possie had a litter of little ones. Being reluctant to disturb them, she left them alone. Possie went out at night to do whatever possums do in the night, leaving the little ones under the watchful care of my friend, who soon found herself watching television with them draped over her knees and being awakened at intervals to provide fresh installments of comestibles.
Possie eventually introduced them to the great outdoors, at which point they preferred to live in the trees. But they still came in for dinner.
You’re the one they’re going to domesticate, my friend. That cherry pie assured it.
When DH and I first procured our property out here in the boonies, we were poor as the proverbial churchmice, and the winter was quite close at hand. We did a bit of unorthodox thinking (imagine that!) and managed to have a bus towed to the site, which we set about making reasonably ‘homey’. After the initial shock of the surrounding community, hahah! and the ‘tours’ of cars and farm trucks ‘just happening down’ the one way road to get a look at the crazies in the bus, we actually took up a fairly comfy life for two, plus 6 cats. The 6 small fuzzies necessitated a ‘cat-door’, which I fashioned by sawing a medium sized hole in the back door and fastening a fairly stiff flap of carpet over it on both sides. Voila! instant feline egress. Of course, it didn’t take long for the local wildlife to discover that the tantilizing smell of commercial cat kibble was coming from inside the giant cracker tin with windows, and they set about figuring the way in.
In the interests of maximizing space, we had built the bed at that end of the bus as well. It wasn’t too bothersome to have the cats make their way through by going under or over the ed, as they often stayed to purr and cuddle, … and groom… ew… but all in all, it was quite cosy and acceptable. The tiny woodstove kept us warm and the pallet porch with clear plastic ‘greenhouse’ afforded an amazing level of comfort, wile the foil-faced insulation on the outhouse walls put the slow on the icy winter constitutionals. Alas, the wily wildies finally managed to discover the trick to getting through the cat door, which we discovered by way of the loud hissing and the sudden heaviness of a few of the ‘cats’ going over us on the bed one night. and the swinging of the broom and throwing of shoes convinced them to leave. For a while. A short while. They became rather difficult to dissuade, and we became more insistent, resulting in the, we thought, rather severe throttling of a couple of them, and the tossing out, quite unceremoniously of said visitors, with boots and broomhandles laid on to further ‘impress’ the message clearly on their ‘persons’. Alas, it seems that the more you ‘impress upon’ them, the more clearly they remember where to come back to the next night. It was a long winter, and I will not trouble you with the eventualities, as they are rather foggy, and distasteful, but we did start construction on the interim dwelling space very early the following spring. I have had a love/hate relationship with o’possums ever since.
If it started so long ago, why were the environmental nuts screaming about “global ice age” as little as 30 years ago? Kinda took them a while to figure it out, didn’t it? Or maybe you are wrong - Again.
You mean they can become evil minons on their own? Cool!
The come out of the pouch that way. With a full set of very sharp little teeth that they are not reluctant to use at any and every opportunity. The only babies I ever hand raised that I never felt were domesticated in the least.
Oops, that’s what you get for not reading the whole thread. Obvious joke, but SOMEBODY had to tell it. I’m not sure that two of us had to tell it though.
The way to cook the possum sound
Carve him to the heart.
First parboil him then bake him brown.
Carve him to the heart
Put sweet potatoes in the pan
Carve him to the heart
The sweetest meat in all the land.
Carve him to the heart
Carve that possum
Carve that possum, children
Carve that possum
Carve him to the heart
Sorry dude, but there’s no migrating to it. Used to live in South Michigan as a kid (place called Stockbridge) and we had them there then (moved out in '79). It just doesn’t seem like there are many of them as they prefer to keep their presence a secret. They only come around at night when we can’t see well, let cats take the blame for getting into the trash, and let coons and foxes drag off grown hens while they stick to eggs (Trust me, you notice when a chicken is gone, but if you don’t get as many eggs in the morning, well, maybe the girls are just beginning to molt or ate something that put them off their production).
I have tons of them here too, but rarely see them. Once in a while a young one will get into the garbage can and have no idea how to get out, or will visit the compost heap early enough in the night that I surprise it with the last scraps of the evening. Mostly, I just see their odd tracks in the mud
and the swinging of the broom and throwing of shoes convinced them to leave. For a while. A short while. They became rather difficult to dissuade, and we became more insistent, resulting in the, we thought, rather severe throttling of a couple of them, and the tossing out, quite unceremoniously of said visitors, with boots and broomhandles laid on to further ‘impress’ the message clearly on their ‘persons’. Alas, it seems that the more you ‘impress upon’ them, the more clearly they remember where to come back to the next night. 
