98 
FOREST A N I) S T R E A M 
February, 1918 
A SYNONYM FOR SLYNESS—BR’ER ’POSSUM 
UNGAINLY AND UGLY, AND WITH AN UNCANNY TRICK OF PLAYING DEAD, 
HE IS NEVERTHELESS A GOOD FRIEND TO THE SOUTHERN COTTON FARMER 
By C. A. DAVID 
W HEN his name appears in print, it 
is Opossum, but to the folks back 
home who know him best, he is just 
plain ’Possum. Somehow the very name 
seems to suit him, and to carry'’ with it a 
mental picture of the slovenly fellow he 
is. When Nature was dividing her gifts 
of grace and beauty amongst the little 
people of the woods, our friend evidently 
drew a blank. His cadaverous face actu¬ 
ally haunts one; his ears are withered, 
skinny and black; jaws long and lean; 
guns discolored and drawn back, disclosing 
serried ranks of glittering teeth. When he 
grins, and grinning has become a habit, 
the corners of the mouth turn down, in¬ 
stead of up, robbing his ghastly smile of 
the last semblance of mirth. His hair is 
long and straggly, of a grayish white. The 
individual hairs point in all directions, giv¬ 
ing him a most weather-beaten, wind-blown 
appearance. His tail is prehensile, and 
nearly naked; it starts out the color of 
India ink, but gradually fades until it ends 
in ani unhealthy shade of pink. 
His small black eyes are his one re¬ 
deeming feature, and even these are set 
deep in the fur, like upholstery buttons in 
a soft cushion. He seems to realize that 
he does not look well in the garish light of 
day, so he wisely spends the hours between 
sunrise and sunset curled up in a ball, 
in the obscurity of some hollow tree or 
rotted-out stump. But when twilight 
comes and the shadows deepen and the 
darkness blots out the landscape, he wakes 
up by sections, and after he has rubbed the 
slumber from his eye lids with his chubby 
fists, he climbs down, and ambles along, 
bear-fashion, to see what the night holds 
for him in the way of food. His bill of 
fare is an all-embracing one, and includes 
nearly everything that can be eaten. 
Among the tidbits that he devours might 
be mentioned insects, small reptiles, wild 
fruits, eggs, young birds, berries, mice, do¬ 
mestic fowls, crayfish, carrion, and vege¬ 
tables. He likes everything, but prefers 
those that can be gathered with the least 
exertion. He is almost sure to be abroad 
on cold, crisp, moonlight nights, when the 
frost crystals sparkle like diamonds on 
fence rail and fallen logs, and when the 
crowing of a cock can be heard for miles.- 
His harvest time is when the frost-ripened 
persimmons mash flat when they fall, and 
when, with ever)- gust of wind; the wild 
grapes beat a tattoo on the ground be¬ 
neath. Life seems worth living then, and 
his happiness would be complete, were it 
not that this same season that brings so 
many blessings, also brings the shouts of 
negro hunters, and the bugle-like hayings 
of his old enemy—the hound. To the col¬ 
ored brother, a fat ’possum, roasted to a 
turn, smothered in yellow yams, and reek¬ 
ing with gravy, spells absolutely the last 
word in ecstatic bliss. 
The ’Possum is the sole representative 
on our continent of that curious class of 
animals that give birth to their young at 
so early a stage, that, for a month or so, 
the mother must carry them about wher¬ 
ever she goes, in a fur-lined pouch. It is 
said, that when first born, a kangaroo, a 
mouse and a baby ’possum are all about the 
same size, hardly an inch in length. As 
the babies are dropped into this conven¬ 
ient pocket, each one seizes a teat, and 
their lips seem to grow together over the 
one object they need. Nature has given 
the mother a set of muscles, by which 
she can pump the nourishment into the 
mouths of her pendent children. When 
the tiny family are once settled in their 
fur-lined nursery, the mother seems to 
forget all about them, and resumes her 
nightly wanderings. Unlike many mothers, 
she need have no misgivings as to the 
safety of her brood, as she knows if she 
is safe, it follows they are also. When 
the young become more fully developed, 
they come out of the pouch, and view the 
world from their mother’s back, where, it 
is said, they steady themselves by taking a 
turn or two of their tails around that of 
the mother. Few birds can build a nest 
where a hungry ’Possum cannot get at 
the eggs; if all other means fail, he will 
hang from a limb above by his grasping 
tail, and rifle the nest at his leisure. 
W HEN come upon unawares, or when 
captured, he has a trick of “playing 
’possum,” making out that he is 
dead; and a most realistic job he makes of 
it too. With his dried out, unkempt hair, his 
blackened gums drawn back, and set teeth 
showing, one who was not on to his trick 
would think he had been dead for a week. 
But he practices this trick too often, so it 
loses its effect, and one gets accustomed to 
seeing him “die.” With all his shortcom¬ 
ings, he is a good friend to the Southern 
farmer, as “he is the natural enemy of the 
cotton rat, a destructive rodent living in 
vast numbers in the sea-board marshes.” 
