Possum vs. Opossum

It seems there is a great bit of confusion about what exactly constitutes a "possum." 

In the US, an opossum (notice the "o"--but ignore it because it's silent) is a small nocturnal creature that looks like a rat with mange.  It likes to hang upside down by it's tail and if you scare it, it will play dead and stink like a dead thing.  Apparently, this is supposed to deter predators.  But I can't imagine that this deters dogs?  Dogs like stinky dead things. They like to eat them and roll on them to get the stink all over their fur.  I digress.

looks like a mangy rat

look at me! 

The term "play opossum"  (still pronounced "possum") means to play dead. At least it does in Texas. I don't know what it means here in New Zealand but judging by the amount of dead possums on the sides of the roads, I am going to assume it means something similar here as well.



Now the New Zealand possum is a totally different nocturnal creature.  First, notice it doesn't have a silent "o" in it's name.  Just "possum" and also pronounced "possum."  Duh!
Instead of looking like a mangy rat, this possum looks like a lemur.  Well, it does to me. My friend, Joe, said the same thing so it must be true.

FUN FACT:  The possum is a marsupial  and a cousin of the sugar glider.  I hear they make great pets but it is ILLEGAL to keep one as a pet in NZ. Which sucks.

possums look like lemurs

The NZ possum is really an Australian native.   They love them in Australia--really, really love them.  If one moves into your attic, you aren't allowed to hurt them (or charge them rent).  But like most Australian things in NZ, they aren't welcome here. They are considered a pest--particularly because they spread bovine TB (and NZ is a dairy country--hello?) and eat native plants and native bird eggs (a big no-no here). In NZ, the possums are hunted, poisoned and run over by cars.


Sadly, I am personally responsible for the death of one poor possum. I remember him as "Pete" though I never did get his real name.  It was totally an accident.  I was driving from Queenstown to Invercargill in the dark in a rental car when a large animal--at least the size of deer--ran out in front of me. It went thud.  I had no choice but go back to make sure it was dead (though I have no idea what I would have done out in the middle of nowhere with a maimed but living possum).  It was. Dead, that is. Oh, and it was about the size of a small dog--not a deer. I swear it did look much much larger when it came hurtling out of the darkness with a suicidal gleam in it's eye.

I cried hysterically for Pete. I agonized over whether he could be, in fact, just "playing possum."  Not pretending to be a possum but pretending to be a DEAD possum.  To be honest, I still don't know if that is just something Texas opossums do or if these possums do it, too.  After talking to him, crying over him and even photographing him (for insurance purposes, of course), I decided he was, indeed, dead.

Finally, I figured I couldn't continue to feel too sorry for the possum--his problems were over. Permanently. On the other hand, mine had just begun (though deservedly for a murderer such as myself). My rental car was seriously munted (Kiwi for "really screwed up").   The whole front left undercarriage plastic stuff was hanging off the car and on the tire.
I was sort of stranded in the middle of nowhere. In the dark. Alone.  OK, not completely alone--I was with a dead possum. But he was really no help at all at this point. And I was afraid of touching him because they carry TB (you don't remember that from above?).

RIP Pete Possum --he died 1 yr ago yesterday

What to do?  I chose to muster on--dragging most of that plastic stuff under the car on the highway.  It was a rental car and I had insurance!!  I did try to minimize the damage to the car--I tied up with hair bands and that worked for about 100 feet.  I tried to pull it off but I wasn't strong enough. So I just drug it along. Stopping every so often to cry and feel sorry for the possum and for myself.

I could smell the tire burning from friction.  That made me cry a little, too.  I almost ran out of gas. It was an eventful trip. But I did make it to Invercargill. Barely.  I must have looked a fright when I arrived at the hotel because the check in lady insisted that I have a free glass of wine.  Kill a possum, get a free glass of wine. I think it is a Kiwi thing.

In the morning, the rental shop gave me a different car. And said that I was the 2nd person that week to wreck one of their cars in this manner.  Clearly, the possum is a pest to the car rental industry, too. 

If you drive on NZ roads, watch for possums. But this isn't Australia, so if you accidentally hit one, people will actually congratulate you. Maybe give you wine.  Oh, and I found out later that you are supposed to pluck the fur off of them while they are warm. It comes right off (but only directly posthumously) and it is worth about $10.  It is mixed with wool to make a merino possum wool that is soft and luxurious like cashmere.  The Kiwis are super industrious like that---turning a pest into a product.