I made the official announcement yesterday that I was going to discontinue this blog, because I simply can't keep up with two blogs. HOWEVER, if you've enjoyed "Possums Just Wanna Have Fun", don't despair. My other blog, "Color Me Country" will feature all things country as well as a hodge-podge of other "stuff".
I couldn't quit telling animal stories if I wanted to. I hope to be posting a lot more often, so you'll be getting more possum and squirrel news from my single blog than you have been getting from the two of them combined.
Please don't give up on me. Just move your loyalty over to "Color Me Country" located at lynnewellswalding.blogspot.com. Soupy, Tickle and Faye and I will be looking for you.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Tickle and Faye
I guess it's time to introduce Tickle and Faye . . . the latest members of the Walding household. I didn't want to rush into it, because they were so young and their introduction to our *zoo* so traumatic, I couldn't be sure they'd survive. They made their grand entrance when their tree-trunk home, located some 23 or 24 feet above ground hit the dirt with a resounding Whump!
We were removing a few trees to allow sunshine into our garden. (As well as supply ourselves with firewood for next season) when the gentlemen doing the job offered to push over an old tree that had been dead for years. The tree cracked in half as it hit, revealing a hollowed out spot and a baby squirrel. He grabbed it and brought it to my husband, who rushed to the house.
I questioned whether there might others, because they usually come in litters of two or three. "No" I was assured, there were no more. The men were interested in getting back to the job at hand. At my insistence, they searched the hollow spot again and found another.Thoughts of a third baby would not let me rest until I'd thoroughly searched for myself. Finally satisfied and absolutely freezing, I trudged back to the house to attend to my two new babies.
A boy and a girl, as I fed and nurtured them, I began calling them Brother and Sister. This soon morphed into Larry (my late brother) and Faye-Girl (dh's sister). And so, they were named Larry and Faye-Squirrel.
Until Larry began taking his formula. I laughed aloud at the way he smacked his lips (for lack of a better description). Do you remember Tickle Me Elmo? And the way he looked when he was laughing? That was Larry!
Tickle, AKA Elmo, opened his eyes on Sunday, which makes it a whole lot easier to feed him. Here it is Wednesday and Faye-Squirrel is still groping at her milk supply and getting it all over herself and me. I'm on the receiving end of unbridled razzing from the guys about boys being faster than girls.
Anybody have any good come-backs for that? Something that will really zap the guys?
We were removing a few trees to allow sunshine into our garden. (As well as supply ourselves with firewood for next season) when the gentlemen doing the job offered to push over an old tree that had been dead for years. The tree cracked in half as it hit, revealing a hollowed out spot and a baby squirrel. He grabbed it and brought it to my husband, who rushed to the house.
I questioned whether there might others, because they usually come in litters of two or three. "No" I was assured, there were no more. The men were interested in getting back to the job at hand. At my insistence, they searched the hollow spot again and found another.Thoughts of a third baby would not let me rest until I'd thoroughly searched for myself. Finally satisfied and absolutely freezing, I trudged back to the house to attend to my two new babies.
A boy and a girl, as I fed and nurtured them, I began calling them Brother and Sister. This soon morphed into Larry (my late brother) and Faye-Girl (dh's sister). And so, they were named Larry and Faye-Squirrel.
Until Larry began taking his formula. I laughed aloud at the way he smacked his lips (for lack of a better description). Do you remember Tickle Me Elmo? And the way he looked when he was laughing? That was Larry!
Tickle, AKA Elmo, opened his eyes on Sunday, which makes it a whole lot easier to feed him. Here it is Wednesday and Faye-Squirrel is still groping at her milk supply and getting it all over herself and me. I'm on the receiving end of unbridled razzing from the guys about boys being faster than girls.
Anybody have any good come-backs for that? Something that will really zap the guys?
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Mean and Fierce
Someone posted a picture of a possum on Facebook the other day, and I was appalled at the negative remarks that ensued. So, of course, I got involved. I posted Soupy's sweetest pic in retaliation. And I think I actually made a convert or two.
For those who insist that possums are mean, I'm posting a pic of two orphaned young'uns, trying to be tough. I promise you the little fellows were scared to death when this big human-being poked a camera in their faces. I'd have liked to take them out of their lair and petted on them a while.
I met them at a wonderful wildlife preserve/petting zoo that used to be on a mountaintop right out of Mena, Arkansas. A stone's throw from the Queen Wilhelmena Lodge. They've since moved, and I've kind of lost track of the amazing young man who owned it. I've heard he and his wife moved the animals into Mena, because it was an awesome chore to get up the mountain every day in the wintertime to care for the animals. And Thomas did love those animals.
He married his childhood sweetheart at 14 and was a grandfather at 34. He's a certified falconer, had special dispensation to keep an injured eagle, and spent many of his own dollars in treatment for the eagle, who'd been shot. He had a vulture (yes, an ugly old vulture) that he'd rescued as a chick, and it followed him around like a puppy dog. Also had vulture chicks. They are kinda cute and very fuzzy, if you can imagine that.
Birds flew from the trees to land on his shoulders. Just like Snow White! I took him a baby skunk one time, and six months later when I visited, the skunk was still wandering the grounds, and still in possession of his "defense weapon." (It had to be that way for him to be rehabilitated.) And "Flower" had never once tried to spray anyone.
Thomas had a huge bear named Harold, alligators (or were they crocodiles?) and poisonous snakes that he handled. (that's where I drew the line.) Of course, he wouldn't have let me handle them had I wanted to.
I took Squirrel Girl to live with Thomas when she became too restless to keep in our house. And he rehabbed her in record time. Moved her into a squirrel neighborhood where she was the only girl, and she immediately took command. Girls rule!
One winter, Thomas rehabbed a doe. She became attached to the other deer, and when he tried to turn her loose, she wouldn't leave. Because of Thomas, I've petted a vulture, several fawns, and a mountain lion. Actually, I kind of wrestled with the mountain lion. (See pic).
If you're ever in Mena, Arkansas, try to find Thomas Young, Arkansas Plant and Wildlife. A most interesting and knowledgeable young man. And charming, as well. He used to operate completely on donations. I hope he's doing well, and I hope I can make it up there again sometime in the near future.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Soupy and Friends
I am a very bad girl.
Try as I may, I cannot write a post every week with any kind of consistency. The Christmas Holidays and the New Year blew me out of the water and I'm just now catching up. But Soupy and Friends don't seem to mind. They have stories enough to tell to last me into the next millennium.
I guess by now, all of you have heard of Heidi the Cross-Eyed Opossum. Living in a zoo in Germany, her U-tube image has made her the darling of the critter-loving world. It has not made me love her any less, (In fact, I wrote her a love letter just yesterday), but the truth is . . . Heidi's an impostor. Oh yeah, you heard me right. I.M.P.O.S.T.O.R. I doubt it was her idea to try to dupe the cyber-space crowd, but nonetheless, I suspect a little hanky panky on someone's part.
You see, I'm fairly well-versed on opossums. And one of the things I have learned over the years is . . . overeating and the resulting excess poundage makes a possum look cross-eyed, because the outside white of it's eyes (which is unseen in a trim possum) bulges out. (It's called a fat deposit). It doesn't make the possum cross-eyed, but, for all the world, it LOOKS cross-eyed. A healthy, trim possum has two black buttons for eyes.
Now, look at Heidi's picture. And compare it with Soupy. Soupy was borderline overweight, and you could see a little bit of the whites of his eyes. But Heidi's eyes look like they're going to bulge out of her sweet little face. I just hope the powers that be at the zoo she resides in will watch her diet closely.
How a wild possum got overweight is a weighty question. (Pardon the pun) It's possible she found a really cool place to eat where someone tossed lots of forbidden goodies and she reported there every night. She sure didn't get fat on roadkill. Unless she lived on a very dangerous curve in a busy road. (In which case she's lucky she wasn't road kill herself.)
Most people don't have a clue as to what a possum should eat. Actually, the recommendations have changed a time or two since I raised my first possum. The one thing that remains constant is they need fruit and veggies to prevent rickets. I suppose a bug consists mostly of veggies - and that's their most common fare. But given the chance they'd exist on fried chicken and fresh mushrooms with a side of lemon yogurt.
I taught Soupy a trick. Well, not really. Possums are sweet and cute and good-natured, but trainable . . . not so much. I found out quite by accident he loved mushrooms. He'd usually stand in front of (or in the middle of) his food dish and eat. But if I gave him a mushroom, he'd snatch it up, look from side to side, like someone might take it from him, and make a beeline for his bed. So, I couldn't resist telling people he was trained. I'd give him a mushroom and say "Take it to your bed." Off he'd go - a man on a mission - straight to his bed. It was very impressive, but believe me, if I'd said "stay" he'd have still taken off for his bed, full speed ahead.
Try as I may, I cannot write a post every week with any kind of consistency. The Christmas Holidays and the New Year blew me out of the water and I'm just now catching up. But Soupy and Friends don't seem to mind. They have stories enough to tell to last me into the next millennium.
I guess by now, all of you have heard of Heidi the Cross-Eyed Opossum. Living in a zoo in Germany, her U-tube image has made her the darling of the critter-loving world. It has not made me love her any less, (In fact, I wrote her a love letter just yesterday), but the truth is . . . Heidi's an impostor. Oh yeah, you heard me right. I.M.P.O.S.T.O.R. I doubt it was her idea to try to dupe the cyber-space crowd, but nonetheless, I suspect a little hanky panky on someone's part.
You see, I'm fairly well-versed on opossums. And one of the things I have learned over the years is . . . overeating and the resulting excess poundage makes a possum look cross-eyed, because the outside white of it's eyes (which is unseen in a trim possum) bulges out. (It's called a fat deposit). It doesn't make the possum cross-eyed, but, for all the world, it LOOKS cross-eyed. A healthy, trim possum has two black buttons for eyes.
Now, look at Heidi's picture. And compare it with Soupy. Soupy was borderline overweight, and you could see a little bit of the whites of his eyes. But Heidi's eyes look like they're going to bulge out of her sweet little face. I just hope the powers that be at the zoo she resides in will watch her diet closely.
How a wild possum got overweight is a weighty question. (Pardon the pun) It's possible she found a really cool place to eat where someone tossed lots of forbidden goodies and she reported there every night. She sure didn't get fat on roadkill. Unless she lived on a very dangerous curve in a busy road. (In which case she's lucky she wasn't road kill herself.)
Most people don't have a clue as to what a possum should eat. Actually, the recommendations have changed a time or two since I raised my first possum. The one thing that remains constant is they need fruit and veggies to prevent rickets. I suppose a bug consists mostly of veggies - and that's their most common fare. But given the chance they'd exist on fried chicken and fresh mushrooms with a side of lemon yogurt.
I taught Soupy a trick. Well, not really. Possums are sweet and cute and good-natured, but trainable . . . not so much. I found out quite by accident he loved mushrooms. He'd usually stand in front of (or in the middle of) his food dish and eat. But if I gave him a mushroom, he'd snatch it up, look from side to side, like someone might take it from him, and make a beeline for his bed. So, I couldn't resist telling people he was trained. I'd give him a mushroom and say "Take it to your bed." Off he'd go - a man on a mission - straight to his bed. It was very impressive, but believe me, if I'd said "stay" he'd have still taken off for his bed, full speed ahead.
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