Opossum Myths Debunked

Having a possum saunter into your kitchen in the middle of the night is a strange and terrifying experience. Talking to people about possums is even stranger. Everyone seems to have a story, advice, and/or interesting facts about these weird little creatures. I have never actually thought much about possums, but after a whole day of talking, reading and stressing about one particular possum, I have a number of myths that I feel like I should dispel, just because.

Myth #1 Opossums do not carry rabies.
A number of people told me this while I was trying to figure out whether or not I should touch the possum with a festering head wound. (It is amazing I even considered it.) Advice would be shared with the caveat, “but don’t worry, they don’t carry rabies.” However, it turns out that they can carry rabies; however, the occurrence of rabid possums is very low*. Scientist theorize that the body temperature of an opossum is too low for the rabies virus take hold.

Myth #2 Opossums hang from their tails.
The North American opossum is the only mammal in the US with a prehensile tail. Only baby opossums can hang from their tails, because once the opossum gets larger it can no longer hold its own weight and therefore, can no longer hang from its tail*.

Myth #3 Opossums are vicious creatures.
Perhaps the opossum developed this reputation because of its appearance. Opossums look like a larger silver rat with a long scaly tail, small beady black eyes and a pointy mouth full of sharp little teeth. It turns out that opossums are generally very mild mannered and do not attack. One website recommended that if an opossum is found in the house it can be “coaxed outside with a broom.”*

Myth #4 Opossums will play dead*.
This is true. I have actually seen it first hand. One night at Café Europa, Ian and I were walking back to the parking garage when we came upon a baby possum walking through the grass. I don't think I had ever even seen an opossum and therefore was utterly suprised when Ian start yelling and jumping up and down in front of the little thing. The poor baby possum just keeled over. It was then that Ian filled me in on the “playing possum” phenomenon.

Myth #5 Opossums will squirt ink when playing dead.
I saved this for last because it is the weirdest. I was leaving daycare with Bronwen and mentioned to a fellow mother that I had an opossum in the house and was going home to deal with it. As had become a predictable event, the mother started to describe her experiences with her own possum that lives on the tree over her deck and harasses her dog. Her advice to me was to scare it so that it would play dead, and then scoop it up with shovel and take it outside. She said that she had tried this with her own possum invader and it had worked perfectly. There was only one draw back, she said, and that is the “opossum ink” that squirts out. She then went on to describe the sticky black ink that oozed out of her own possum that made her think it was dead, but that turns out simply to be some sort of possum ink. I said that I hoped it didn’t “ink” in my kitchen, but thanks for the advice. I could find nothing on the web about “possum ink” however, at http://www.opossumsocietyus.org/ I found mention of opossum anal gland fluid. Here is what it said,

“Fear can cause release of a greenish-colored anal fluid. Opossums cannot “spray”, and the only way this unpleasant-smelling body fluid can come in contact with you is if your clothes brush the anal area. It washes off easily.”

So there you go. I think that explains that.

Marsupial Invasion

Thirty minutes ago an Opossum with a large open sore on its head sauntered into our kitchen. It walked right passed me as I was sitting at the computer; it turned the corner, leaning into the fridge as it passed. I started to yell,

“Dan there is an Opossum in our kitchen. An Opossum in our kitchen!”

At the sound of my slightly hysterical cries, the Opossum turned to look at me. Our eyes met, and it stood there for a few second before calmly turning around and waddling back out the way it came in. I followed it out of the kitchen and caught a glimpse of its wormy tail as it disappeared down the stairs in to the basement. I slammed the basement door and went to find Dan. He was sleeping. I flicked on the light.

“Dan, there was just a possum in the kitchen. It was acting like it had been there before!”

“Well, I am sure the cats would have gotten it if it had been.”

“What should I do? The litter boxes are downstairs, but I can’t keep the door open! The possum will come back. Do you think it has been visiting often? It had a sore on its head.”

“What, a sore?”

“Yeah. Isn’t that weird?

“Yeah.”

“What if it is rabid?”

“It’s not rabid.”

“Okay, I need back up while I go downstairs to get the litter boxes. Can you stand with the broomstick ready to beat it off if it jumps up on me and starts gnawing my leg?”

“It is not rabid.”

“You didn’t see it. I think it’s been here before. It just looked at me like it wasn’t scared. It is definitely rabid. And the sore on its head, like an abscess; gross!

Dan followed me into the kitchen and stood dutifully with the broomstick, ready to defend me against the R.O.U.S. as I tiptoed down the stairs and grabbed a litter box.

“We are never going to be able to leave the door open again.” I announce as I dropped the stinky litter box down into our pantry.

Since then I have scoured the house looking for evidence of a marsupial infestation. I closed up Bronwen's bedroom, but only after looking under the beds, in the closet and in the laundry basket.

Sometimes we forget how close we live to the rest of the natural world, until the natural world comes walking through our kitchen sporting a cheeky grin and an oozing head wound.

My Newest Obsession

Anyone who knows me well knows that I obsess. I get stuck on something, an idea, project, desire and I simply cannot stop thinking about it. Earlier this year a spent a few weeks being obsessed with the idea of having my own chickens. I research everything about owning chickens, coops, breeds, everything. I wanted chickens of my very own that were going to live in the back yard and be an endless supply of delicious fresh eggs. Dan said no.

Now I am obsessing about scooters. I have always wanted a scooter. Sunshine got that awesome scooter that I rode at her house, Vespas are the cutest ride ever; and today, instead of getting work done, I have been reading everything there is on the Internet about scooters. I have already picked out a few models that I would like to test ride and discovered what dealerships sell them. I have created an entire fantasy scooter world in my head that has me scooting all over town, looking so cute with my matching helmet and Bronwen chilling out in the sidecar. I simply must have one.