This is part two of “The Possum Is Awesome,” and as promised, we’re going to address the oddities found in
their “circle of life”—there are more than a few.
Possums breed up to three times a year. The males (called “jacks” by many) lure the females (called “jills”) by clicking sounds, which is a far more subtle approach—and often more successful—than any human “hold my beer” stunt. Once they’ve made the appropriate introductions, the pair mates with twice the equipment of other mammals, which is to say they are both “bifurcated” reproductively, and everything fits together accordingly.
Baby possums (lots of terms are used for a baby possum; “joey” is a universal term for marsupial infants) are born pretty much as embryos 12 to 13 days after conception.
They’re a little bigger than a grain of rice; mothers can birth up to 20 neonates who crawl from the birth canal to one of 13 nipples—six on each side and one in the middle. No, the number does not make sense, but such is the way of marsupials. Nature has built support for this plan via a pouch that houses both nipples and young, sort of a “better bra” made of flesh to keep the young ones humid, warm and safe. With mouths barely big enough to seal shut around their life source for the next several weeks, the ones who don’t latch first will die (and here’s an aside: one rehabber I know once received a wounded mother possum with 14 babies. What the …? We’re guessing someone jumped ship somewhere and was fortunate enough to climb on board another frigate!).
Just thinking about caring for that many offspring sounds like an unholy mess, but again, possums are fastidious; they’re great
about infant maintenance as the young will grow until the pouch gets too crowded, usually around 10 weeks of age. At that point, the babies have fur, opened eyes, and the strength to crawl out of the pouch and cling to her fur. If one falls off, Mama is signaled by the baby’s sneeze-like sound, and she responds with clicks until the baby finds her. This is how rehabbers might end up with a single baby possum; if a dog has chased her hard and far, Mom won’t realize she’s lost a baby or two until they’re out of hearing range (she also can’t count, so 8 or 9 or 10 all feel the same crawling and snuggling on her).
The babies are weaned around three months and go their own ways shortly after that. They’re ready to create their own families between 6 to 9 months of age. Bear in mind, though, that life in the wild is difficult at best; most of the young won’t make it that far, and possums living free seldom enjoy a second birthday. The longest they survive in comfortable captivity is usually around four years although the rare age of 10 has been recorded. (It’s hard to imagine what an antique possum like that would look like, isn’t it? How could a face get much whiter or a waddle get much slower?) The largest possum on record is 16 pounds, 2.6 ounces—about the size of a hefty house cat.
Possums have definitely been around a while. Fossilized skulls have been dated back over 65 million years. It appears that they were nature’s “starter set” for making mammals as well as the source for the entire world’s marsupial populations. Once the dinosaurs were wiped out, these strange little mammals
appeared in what’s now Wyoming before the continents split, so they are forerunners to American history in a number of ways. The name “opossum” comes from an Algonquin root meaning “whitefaced dog,” and, surprise, several notable early Americans were quite taken with them.
While Thomas Jefferson was serving as the U.S. Minister to France, he pursued giving possums as gifts for French naturalists. There are still letters in existence in which he writes of his belief that the opossum pouch disappeared when not in use and reappeared when needed. His opinion was based on childhood experiences in which he apparently poked around the abdomens of a few female possums to explore; it’s hard to imagine an adult possum being so gracious as to allow such actions unless they were pets, but the note does not elaborate on his relationship with the possum mama in question.
President Harrison requested “two good possums” during his term in the White House. It’s uncertain as to what qualifies a possum as “good,” but nonetheless, a friend sent him
Mr. Reciprocity and Mr. Protection. They arrived with red, white and blue ribbons around their necks.
President Coolidge was gifted a raccoon intended to be served up for Thanksgiving, but instead, he made national news by pardoning the animal and adopting her. The Coolidges were big animal lovers and often received exotics as presents; “Rebecca” Raccoon was housed in style—giant cage and all—during his term. The next president to reside there, Herbert Hoover, was given a possum as a gift, and “Billy Opossum” became the enclosure’s new occupant.
News of Billy traveled fast; one day, Hoover received a request one might believe to be the first, and possibly only, in American history. The Hyattsville, Maryland High School team’s mascot had wandered off, and they were unable to find him. The team was convinced this would bring bad luck and worse scores in an upcoming competition. They sent an appeal to President Hoover; would he be so kind as to loan them his possum for the duration?
Only in America, right? Of course, Hoover allowed them to borrow Billy. Fun fact: they won. As to whether it was the Placebo Possum effect or hard work and skill … we will never know. Billy was returned to
Hoover, who promised the team an openended “possum loaning” if and when the need presented itself in the future.
So, yes, these guys have been kept as pets by both noteworthy and nonentities alike. When rehabbers foster young possums, there is admittedly an incredibly cute phase of growth that’s hard to resist. Once they are bright-eyed, lapping formula and voiding on their own, their expressions are pure entertainment; their fur is luxurious to the touch, and the way they cling to one’s hand is charming. Babies are curious and inclined to snuggle into a pocket for warmth. Much like
kittens, they can even be litterbox-trained. In the previous issue’s article on possums, I mentioned how this species would be the closest of the wild mammals to qualify as a pet. I am still adamantly against this. First and foremost, it is illegal; second, it is unfair to their nature.
Alas, they are wild animals. One doesn’t domesticate a possum; one might tame them, but they aren’t the same. Once they are up and on their own, the youngsters have every instinct needed to navigate nature. When threatened, possums flash their teeth and drool to look scary, but with a slightly lower body temperature, these guys are the mammal least likely to carry rabies. (I’ve
never, ever heard of an Oklahoma possum contracting rabies, although as mammals, it’s possible. However, bats and skunks are the main carriers in the state.)
Instead of being the aggressor, they are more than likely the victim. As carcasses are a mainstay of their diets, they will eat another animal that died from poisoning, spread it to their babies via nursing, and the entire family will die slow, painful deaths intended for other species. If a hawk or owl snags a poisoned possum, the mortality rate moves all the way up the food chain (and on another note, if a poisoned animal’s body decays naturally, do you ever wonder where the toxin goes? Answer: it depends on the poison. Some types decompose, or their strength fades over time. Some, well, not so much).
Sadly, possums are often blamed for a number of negatives for which they are innocent. Sure, if they get into a henhouse, they will do their best to chow down on a chicken. But it’s more likely that a raccoon has already made the kill, and the resulting smell invited the possum to any leftovers. They simply use the same entry and get caught “en fragrant delish-o” by
the unhappy coop owner. They aren’t the ones making the gnawing sounds in the attic—that would be squirrels. They don’t have loud, vicious fights in your bushes—that would be feral cats. And they don’t carry off your teacup breed dog—there are plenty of other, faster predators capable of that.
So the next time you’re gardening and head in for a shower, check your skin. If you’re tick-free, thank a possum. If you didn’t come across anything dead, thank a possum. And if you kind of like knowing these quiet neighbors for who they are, celebrate the possum.
