We haven't seen Mrs Poss for a long while ...

... I think she was old, I suspect she is no more. This makes me sad.
We don't seem to have possums in the garden anymore. There's no evidence of visits. No nibbled parsley, no poo, no nibbled camellias, no chewed maple tree. This also makes me sad.
We don't see possums, we still hear them, from time to time, but until just the other night not a poss has been spotted. Mr Brown saw one this week, we rushed out to offer it some cherry tomatoes but it was gone before we got there and the tomatoes were still in the bowl in the morning. Again, this saddens me.
At the xmas street party at the end of the year I mentioned the lack of possums and how this saddened me and one of the other-side-of-the-street neighbours confessed to capturing and releasing them some distance away. This made me sad AND angry. It's illegal for a start and probable death for the possum. Apparently it was "necessary" because they were getting into her roof. This can be fixed, we actively encouraged possums and they never got into the roof. Once one got into the chimney, was evicted and fox wire put in place to stop it coming back. Fixed and Poss lived.
This is why I'm not a particularly neighbourly person.
And it is why reading this made me a little happier.

Why I changed my Twitter name ...

... my Twitter name was MorganMouse, I'm on a theme clearly.
Anyway, the other day I was visiting a work friend (as opposed to just a colleague), who's very high up in the organisation for which I work, the Government Department that Shall Not Be Named. I spotted a report-briefing thing on her desk with the word TWITTER in the title.
"Hello" said I, "what's all this then?"
"Pfft" said she, "we may get a Twitter account".
"Shit, no, not for reals, surely?"
"Maybe, probably not, but possibly".
"CRAP, I'd better go change my account name, or delete it, or lock it down or something!" Grabbing a copy of the report, I dashed from her office, her office with a WINDOW.
"O, do you tweet?" I heard as I flew on winged heels to my desk.

So, Morgan, it's not a very common name and I'm the only Morgan in the organisation. While I don't tweet much about work, I was still filled with hot-cheeked horror at the thought of work folk stumbling across MorganMouse and possibly putting two and two together.
So now I'm MsBrownMouse. Since Mr Brown is not Mr Brown's actual, real-life name (I know, we are SO sneaky, we should totally be spies or something), I don't think a link will ever be made.
And so, on a completely different subject, as I went out to feed Mrs Poss yesterday evening I spotted, out of the corner of my eye, what looked like a big, fat, red spider.It was not, it was a leaf-curler spider who had made her house out of a hot-pink camellia petal.

My reward ...

... for not grabbing and squeezing the bebe poss until its pips squeaked.
A sort of silver, ear-dangling merit badge :)From A Skulk of Foxes, and delivered even though I fucked up the delivery post code. Australia Post kicks mail-delivery arse!

So do you remember ...

... in my last post, how I said it couldn't be long before Mrs Poss insisted Bebe Poss came out of the pouch? Well, behold. I'd just popped out to bring in the crispy sun-dried washing and I heard something a little like shrieking. Actually a LOT like shrieking. I looked up into the Jacaranda Tree, spotted Mrs Poss hauling that Bebe Poss right out of her pouch.Bebe Poss did NOT want to come out, but Mrs Poss insisted.
There was some high-wire shuffling and Bebe Poss was up and on mum's back.
He or she had good look round from the furry perch that is mum, and then tried to go back. Mrs Poss would have none of it. I think we'll be seeing quite a bit of the ween from now on.

He can't stay in there much longer ...

... surely to goodness. Yesterday afternoon, as Mr Brown sanded and oiled the outdoor table and chairs, and I hung out a little washing, I head the tell-tale skittle-scritch of Mrs Poss climbing down the pergola posts. She practically landed in my basket of clean washing. Of course I rushed inside to grab her a snack of pear and grapes. It was a very warm day yesterday, bebe poss was clearly finding it a bit oppressive inside the pouch.Arms and legs kept falling out, tucking back up, falling out again.
At one point it was clear the little bugger just drifted off to sleep, so relaxed was that wee; pink paw.The temptation to reach up, while Mrs Poss was distracted by all the pear juice dripping down her chin, and tweaking that little paw was powerful.
I didn't, my self control was truly amazing. I believe I deserve some sort of prize.
Also, look at that widdle chin! I bet it trembles and quivers and is surrounded by a halo of impossibly cute little possum whiskers.

Mrs Poss's pouch is bulging ...

... really, the bebe is so big it's poking out all over the place. There's just no keeping him or her in her pocketses. And may I just say, I'm so very glad it's not me, look at the CLAWS. Seriously, would you want those digging away at your sensitive and delicate insides?It's almost comical, how she's waddling now, trying to accommodate that bulge. She's still pretty nimble up and down the pergola post though.
And lookie, that's FIVE feet you can see, one of which is in a most unusual spot.
I'm doing my very best to help keep her strength up, topping up her bowl with delicious, organic fruits and vegetables. That's a nice, and terribly expensive, bright yellow capsicum she's nomming there. Mrs Poss is quite partial to capsicum.

First glimpse of the new bebe ...

... bebe Possum that is, it'll be weeks before Ping's little sister comes to stay.Mrs Poss popped down while I was bringing in the washing, a tinny rattle of her empty dish is usually the first I know she's there. We've not been shopping at all this week, so a handful of tiny, juicy grape tomatoes was all I had to offer. And then I spotted it, a long, rather rat-like tail, poking out of the pouch. Yep, it's the new bebe. I thought she was, that rather large wibbly blob in the pouch region was very suspicious. Mrs Poss isn't fazed, just so long as you keep the tomatoes going. A possum's wash and brush up, post tomato, is remarkably like a pusscat's. Lots of paw licking and whisker smoothings. And then she's off, to visit the next muggins who provides snacks.With a little tail trailing along, it's probably quite hot in there.

Last night ...

... Ms Pingu met Mrs Possum. Accidentally, of course.
I was hanging out some washing in the wild hope it wouldn't rain today (so far so good), I mustn't have snibbed the back door shut properly.
It was still light, and Mrs Poss hasn't been coming down for dinner until quite late recently, so I wasn't expecting her.
I heard a snick, snick, turned around and there she was, climbing down the pergola post to the seat where her (empty) little dish sat.
I heard the tinkle of Ping's bell and whoosh, there she was on the pergola seat, on her back feet, sniffing noses with Mrs Poss.
Neither of them growled, hissed or scratched.
Ms Pingu was whisked away pronto, before the shock of the new wore off.
She's lonely, is my poor Ping.

Happy New Year ...

... and what better way to ring in the new year than with pictures of bebe tomatoes?Resolutions? Plant earlier next year!

Those last ones, the eggies, were planted by Mrs Possum, in an empty pot, beneath her feeding spot. Tomatoes often self seed around the garden, generally via the compost heap, but they've never fruited before. The benefits of feeding possums organic, heirloom tomatoes perhaps.

PS - Hey Lee, so far so good, I'd leave to clock alone if I were you :)

Can you spot the other "possum"?

Any Passionfruits yet?

Not yet, Ms Possum, but be patient.

Possum in full daylight ...

... I'm trying not to worry about the unusual possum behaviour.
The little bugger has taken to coming down for breakfast when I'm doing the morning watering. We rarely see her in the evenings now. Perhaps the juicy fruits quench her summer thirst.

I think she looks quite lovely, up there amongst the jacaranda flowers, against the blue sky. The colours nicely highlight her pretty grey fur.

Possum came out at 2:30 this afternoon ....

... into the full bright day light. She's supposed to be nocturnal.
She did the usual, asked for something to eat, so she got a nectarine and a couple of tiny tomatoes.
But Google told me an adult possum out in the day means "something is wrong with the animal" requiring capture and assessment.
Guess what I did! Go on. Yep, I panicked, I called W.I.R.E.S and babbled about "my possum" and would someone come check her please.
Apparently it's probably the heat and I'm not to worry, since I could see no sign of injury.
But I'm keeping an eye on her.
Don't tell Mr Brown.

In other news, water on the moon, apparently. Googlemoon is the result.

Possums like apricots ...

... of course they do. Quite a bit. And they don't need teaching what to do with the pip. You just let it go, someone else comes along to clean it up.Nom, nom, nom.

So, tonight I think I found bebe poss

... I should begin with, I've not seen bebe poss since not long after this.
Poss still turns up, but she's nervous, fidgety, and doesn't stay long. She keeps grabbing food then running up the tree to eat. She looks startled at every noise. She's particularly disturbed by that yappy little fucker next door. I do not like that particular member of the canine family.
Anyway, I'd resigned myself to fate and nature, not everything works out well, bad things happen to bebe possums. It's sad, but it's life.
But tonight, as I fed a nervy Poss, a second possum came down. About her size but with a much smaller face, smaller eyes and much smaller paws. The face looks somehow daintier and younger - though this may be wishful thinking on my part.
This possum is clearly younger, and tolerated by my Poss, now growling or chasing away, she seems happy to let him (o yes, a him) eat too.
But this poor wee possum has only about two thirds of a tail, and a bright pink stumpy bit at the end.
If I find out that little yappy fucker next door is responsible for this I'm not exactly sure what I'll do, but there'll be trouble, o yes indeed.

Worried ...

... I've not seen the bebe poss for days and days and days.
Mrs Poss still turns up, at least I think it's Mrs Poss, looking a bit worse for wear.
I'm going to have to do a bit of googling, I'm hoping Hush has just moved on as a grown up, not been killed by a boy possum wanting to have his wicked way with Mrs Poss.
I do hope that's not it.

Last night I almost died ...

... of the CUTE. Last night I finally got to meet bebe poss, Hush. Hush nibbles on the fruit we leave out for Poss.

Hush leans over Poss's shoulder and just hoes right in. We may have to start leaving out a bit more, now there's another mouth to feed.

May I have some more please?

Of course you may.

Hush holds on tight and curls her little tail into a fluffy coffee scroll.

Every now and then a flooff of possum fur wafts to the ground, I think those grippy wee paws are de-thatching poor Poss.

Nom, nom, nom. O, and that "friend" I spotted a while back, he's back (it looks like he’s twirling his moustaches, doesn’t it?). And there's no mistaking his boydom.

He came right down last night and took food from my hand. That's even MORE fruit to be left out then. This could get expensive.

I have a feeling there'll be another bebe poss next season, he really is a most handsome fellow. She's rebuffed him so far, but she's only just had a bebe.
That red in his fur, I'm not sure if that's dust from earlier in the week or his colour. It's the most impressive rusty red in any case.