Something New

Call me a Yankee or a sheltered city dweller but I admit, I've lived my whole life and never ever seen possum. We had raccoons in our garage when I was growing up in the midwest but I've never had a run in with the possum, which is quite a common critter in many parts of the country. For the sake of making fun of myself, I'd only ever heard of a possum because Granny from the Beverly Hillbillies made soup from them!

But when I went to help with wildlife rehab after the hurricane, suddenly they were in my world. And last week, I learned to clean their cages. That was.... interesting.

Possum aren't ugly but they aren't cute either. They're definitely stinky little buggers. I thought it was their poop but I've read the musk glands behind their ears are to blame. They burrow underneath the newspapers, so to clean I often was waking them up, and none of us like that.

There is a short baton of sorts that you have to keep in one hand to keep them back while you quickly remove their food and water dishes and grab up the soiled newspaper. Now, the baton is just a stick that you hold at an angle so it's a bit of a barrier between you in case they should strike. Most of them just sit in the back corner of the cage with their wide mouths open (a shot I didn't get); while this might be their "I'll scare you" gesture, it looks more like a toothy, goofy grin! Once thick layers of fresh newspaper is installed we can quickly return their water and food, close the door and their nap can be resumed.

At the rehab center, we endeavor to save the lives of sick or injured creatures and when they're ready, release them safely back into the wild. But I often wonder if the things we need to do seem more like alien abduction to them. A big face peers in, a giant hand comes to lift them up, and make funny noises at them in a language that is not even close to their own. I do my best to move slowly. I keep fairly quite (or coo in a way I hope communicates calm and peace). I remember that I'm doing these things for their own good and just hope it's not too stressful.

But then there are the guys who like human interaction. While you don't want to imprint them to humans, so they can stay wild and survive once released, each animal really does have a personality, and some just like people. Of the dozen or so we have, this one is very curious about you and has no problem with you cleaning his cage. Here he is, stepping forward to say hello.

Above is a baby possum, which I cropped so he'd look big enough to see on blogger. They're vulnerable little runts at this age, aren't they? When they grow to be about 9 inches from their nose to their bum (not to the end of their tail) they are big enough to be released.

Not all are in the center due to injury or illness. In fact, most possum are from people who find them in their yard and bring them in simply because they don't want them there. Guess when Granny found them out by her ce-ment pond she decided to keep 'em -- in her soup pot!

The wildlife rehab center never turns an animal away, but cares for it until they can return it to nature -- usually via the land of private, licensed rehabbers who volunteer to take animals in that predicament, so they can live long lives in their natural habitat. You have to appreciate that these folks do it with little or no pay, and get supplies to keep going through donations (if not entirely out of their own pocket). This is why it's so fantastic to support the people and places that do this work. It really is an labor of love.