the stretches of wild woodland along the Cohan- 

 sey ; but a fox is rare here now, and the coon 

 by 110 means abundant. Indeed, the rabbit, 

 even with the help of the game laws, has a hard 

 time. Yet the possum, unprotected by law, 

 slow of foot, slower of thought, and worth fifty 

 cents in any market, still nourishes along the 

 creek. 



A greyhound must push to overtake a rabbit, 

 but I have run down a possum with my winter 

 boots on in less than half-way across a clean 

 ten-acre field. He ambles along like a bear, 

 swinging his head from side to side to see how 

 fast you are gaining upon him. When you 

 come up and touch him with your foot, over he 

 goes, grunting and grinning with his mouth 

 wide open. If you nudge him further, or bark, 

 he will die but he will come to life again when 

 you turn your back. 



Some scientifically minded people believe 

 that this "playing possum" follows as a physio- 

 logical effect of fear ; that is, they say the pulse 

 slackens, the temperature falls, and, as a result, 

 instead of a pretense of being dead, the poor 

 possum actually swoons. 



[21] 



