I was in Alabama once for work. Hit one of those things in my shiny new Hertz rental car. I’d never seen one before. Didn’t kill it, it was all stuck up inside the wheel well. I just about peed myself when I looked up in there. He was some kind of ugly, nothing but teeth and that damn tail, hissing at me, thrashing around. Wasn’t going to stick my arm up in there to try to get him out. He must’ve not been hurt bad, after a couple minutes he got untangled and ran off.I learned one thing never punt a opossum. Our sh×÷$ag neighbors moved out left their cat and dogs in a kennel. The dogs died and the cat took up residence in my garage. I would get big 50 lb bags of cat food, cut the top open feed the new resident as needed. OK the new garage cat was a 20 plus pound Mainecoon and he ate a lot. One day the bag of food was moving so I reached in scuffed the cat jerked him out and held him up about a foot from my face to let him know that wasn't approved behavior. The problem is it wasn't the cat but a full grown opossum, as I did the first thing that came to my feeble mind and drop kicked him. If you have never drop kicked 20 pounds or so let me tell you it felt like my hip dislocated. It bounced off the garage door and then ran to the back corner of the garage, where he was promptly terminated. The second lesson I learned is that upon death a opossum is like Dr. Who's Tardis and is bigger on the inside. Yes it left about three times it body weight in excrement.
They just don’t look like they should live in North America. Madagascar maybe, but not right outside Birmingham Alabama.Caught a possum in a live trap once on accident, I was trying to catch feral cats and didn't even know we had possum in the area. I hauled his butt way out to the back of the property in the cage and when I tried to turn him loose, the little bastard turned on me and starting hissing, stepping forward and showing teeth... I am too old to run so I drew and I proceeded to inform him he had about a second to live... I swear he understood me... or he didn't like looking down that barrel... either way, he shut up, turned, and walked away. I thought my wife was bad tempered...
Well, maybe I’ll let you know how pika tastes someday.If you can get past the eyes, the pointy teeth and rancid smell. They are not bad eating. A nice white meat similar to pork.
I spent a lot of time with a grandmother who survived Hitlers camp and the other a widow thru the depression. One even had a depression cookbook with recipes for chipmunk and that book is still on my book shelf.
If it was shot, trapped or bludgeoned it was fair game for dinner.
OK, that’s funnier than my story.I have a few personal anecdotes.
One that readily comes to minds regarding rats... I used to have a used car/tandem trailer business in the Heights, in Houston. Corner of 14th and N. Durham. God knows what's there nowdays. Anyway, the place was rented, and it had a little shop in the back that was infested with what they call wharf rats, I think. The size of an average house cat, but with short legs. And not cute at all. Just mangy and disgusting and they smell like rank old pee.
Well, I had a 'new to me' pickup, a 1986 GMC pickup, single cab, diesel. It was a cream puff. I had just had it painted and everything on it serviced. I was leaving for the day, parked the truck outside the pipe fence while I locked up. Went to lock the shop and a big old rat ran out, right past me. I tried kicking it but missed by a mile. Didn't see where it went, I figured under a car. So I crank up the pickup, drive the 40 miles home, and park and am in for the night.
I wake up at about 2 a.m. to the sound of crashing, thrashing, the cat screeching, things breaking. I was involved in a relationship, shall we say, and I was..... 'in the altogether'. We both were, as we had been asleep. I thought someone was breaking in the sliding patio door, I could hear the vertical blinds thrashing around. So I grab my pistol and tear down the hall, followed by my significant other. Both nekkid. Get out to the kitchen area---no burglar. But the cat is going insane attacking something behind the vertical blinds. I get over and whip back the blinds---and y'all, it's a rat. A wharf rat the size of my cat. She's freaking, attacking it and springing back and running in circles and attacking again. She clearly doesn't know what to do. Attack or run. So I lay the pistol down and whip the blinds back and pull the door open. But the rat doesn't run out. It runs further back into the kitchen. So the cat goes after it, boyfriend grabs a broom, and I'm looking for something to use as a weapon too. The cat is screaming, boyfriend is screaming at me to do this or that, I'm screaming 'he's over there! over there!' and boyfriend is going the totally wrong way.
This pandelerium goes on for a solid five minutes before boyfriend runs the rat back my way and I used a painting off the wall as a barricade to deflect it out the door. Finally, it flew out the door and into the dark.
Meanwhile, the light had come on next door, in their kitchen, and the miniblinds were moving around. And we're nekkid, running around screaming, the door's vertical blinds are thrashing in all directions, boyfriend flailing a broom while my cat screeches and yowls very, very loudly.
Once it was gone and we calmed down and put on bathrobes, I realized it was the rat from the shop. It must have run out by the road where my pickup was parked and got up under it and rode home with me. We never had rats of any kind there, never. Just little field mice. Never a rat, and certainly not a wharf rat.
And I avoided the neighbors for a long time.