December 04, 2003
I stopped by Mack's Gun Shop yesterday and learned something that I did not know before: we have a "Possum Season" in Georgia. It runs from something like September to May (I didn't really pay attention to the dates) and a license to hunt them costs $5.00.
WTF is THAT about? I see more dead possums on the side of the road than I do dead armadillos around here, and I see a LOT of dead armadillos on the road. People actually PAY to get a LICENSE to hunt those varmits? What do you do when you kill one? Mount its head on the wall as a trophy? Don't tell me that you're going to EAT it. That thought sickens me.
I once saw a dead cow lying under an oak tree. During a thunderstorm, lightning hit the tree and killed the cow, who was standing under the tree at the time. The cow laid there for almost a week in the Southern summertime before the farmer finally hired a back-hoe operator to bury it.
My friends and I cut through that field one day before that burial and the cow appeared to be breathing. It was stinking to high heaven, but it's sides were pulsating. Flies were buzzing around it and maggots were already making their presence known, but the cow was MOVING.
One of my friends grabbed a stick and beat on the cow. After that, we counted six possums retreating from the cow's asshole, right through the way they came in. They had been inside the cow feasting on that rotten meat from the inside out. I don't believe I've ever seen a more disgusting sight in my life.
Now. Do YOU want to go possum hunting?
that story is absolutly fucking disgusting. Thanks for the imagery! lol
That is the grossest story I've ever heard but....my friend who makes the guitar staps Leather store is called the Flying Possom Leather and I bet if you could get some one to skin one and mount it he'd make a strap very special for you. Then you'd be among the other greats that have them, Neil Young, Willie Nelson, and Jimmy Buffet and you could visit the infamous Dickson St in Fayetteville where it's located. Lot's of neat bars and Thursday night at George's is open mike night. Bruce is a old hippy that also plays guitar and drums and sings pretty well too.And if you don't own a pair of Birkenstocks, you need too.
Acidman is absolutely right.
Possum eating is only done after the possum is caught alive and caged for a week or two to give it proper diet, because possum eaters know about the scenario A-Man describes. Now, that's what my granpappy did. But I didn't eat the varmint anyhow! Yuck!! Amen, Ms Anna!
yea, that is unfortunately, the MO of old "smilin Jack" . Eat through the ass-end of whatever dead animal is handy, munch a big hollow in the carcass, and chow down on the guts with the whole family. PETA members should be forced to watch this show with their eyeyballs tooth-picked open. dumbass fuck-sticks will be singing a different tune watching/smelling blood/shit-soaked naked tailed rats run out the foot-wide ass hole of a prize Holstein.
Skunks will also eat the asshole out of a dead animal to get to the ripe viscera of the carrion.
Possum killing sounds like fun, but I wouldn't eat the trophy. But there are folks who will.
When I was a young un, we used to catch m sunfish, carp and pickerel aplenty and sell them to the city-folk who ventured into our neck of the woods in NJ (yes, NJ has wilderness, albiet not as much as it did 20 years ago).
We would keep the trout, rock bass and big mouth bass for ourselves. But the douchebags from the innercity would be happy to part with $10 for a bucket of sunnies.
You mean it's not possum season year around?
Now I don't feel so bad about the dead baby possum I had to dispose of out in my garage awhile back.....although I had to cover it with a WalMart bag first, and then doubled up a couple more bags and slipped them over my hand (while wearing gloves) in order to pick it up.
I didn't want to be able to feel it. Just looking at it gave me the willies.
Those are the times I appreciate the value of having a man around the house.
Shoot, Trish. A man would have barfed and you'd have had to do it yourself anyhow!
And I would have had to clean up the barf, too....
aw, the nasty buggers're just doin their jobs. You ain't supposed to eat scavengers, anyhow. Possums are like the land-based version of slime eels, and people eat THOSE nasty creatures, too. *blucch*
I've just had an illuminating thought. (It's still a too early morning, to me.) Acidman has been educating me to a whole new world with his growing up near/in the wilderness stories. Yes, I "visited" the country, slept on the floor of the two-room house my father was raised in. Got bundled up and ushered to the out-house through a foot of snow before going to bed. Sat on the edge of a cold chamber pot in the middle of the night. Had a Saturday night bath in a galvanized tub in front of the wood fire. I didn't really "live" that life, but my parents did, if they had the time. Mom had to milk 14 cows before she had to walk to school (only 2-1/2 miles). Daddy grew up on an Ozark "rock" farm.
Anna, My Mom grew up very poor in the Ozarks and I remember her telling the stories of bathing in a galvanized tub.She met my Dad at a college football game and he was the son of the county judge who got her family on relief because they were too proud to take it but were starving during the depression.My Dad's GI bill put him through college and the only A he made was in Baseball.He later put my Mom through school with my help. I became the housekeeper and cook at the age of 10 while she was making all A's in school.But she gave me piano lessons from a college professor. I think my poor heritage gave me more character.
Was that before or after the harvest?
Friend of mine says you can't skin a possum, you have to burn it or something then scrape the fur that's left off with a scraper or big knife. I don't know anything about possums except that they're smarter than my dog, so is this guy pulling my leg or what?
I heard a ruckus out in the chickenhouse one night and went out to check it out. There was a possum after my chickens. I dazzled its eyeballs with the light in one hand and grabbed it by the tail with the other hand. Then there I was, flashlight in one hand, possum in the other by the tail and he was snarlin' and cussin' and tryin' to swing up and rearrange my arm. Well, dang, what am I gonna do now? (Yep, poor impulse control. That's where the kids came from, after all.)
So, I came on back to the house (it was about 3 a.m.), opened the door to my daughter's room, and said "check THIS out!" She opened up one eye, said "Yep, that's bigger'n the last one", and went back to sleep. Very disappointing reaction, and no help at all. So, back to carrying pissed off growling possum outside while avoiding being bitten, cleaning out cage and working rusty latch with other (nondominant) hand, and stuffing possum down inside while avoiding injury to me and ugly critter.
Next morning, she said "Mama! Did you carry a big ol' armadillo into my room last night?" "No, babygirl, that wasn't an armadillo this time. That was a big ol' he possum that's been eatin' your prize chickens." "DAMN mama! You woulda felt bad if you woulda dropped it on me!" "Nope, not near as bad as YOU would've felt!" "WHY did you bring it in?" "Well, I was in kind of a fix, because I had him and couldn't rightly release him, so I was hoping you could open up the cage door for me, but I managed by myself." So we went outside to admire my possum who was even bigger and uglier and more temperamental in the daylight and released it near a friend's house who had chickens and probably trapped this sucker and released it near my chickens earlier in the week.
Now, don't suggest that I go to my husband for help on that kinda problem.. He screams too loudly when he gets woke up in the middle of the night by stuff like that.
When I was about twelve I had a good friend whose family was dirt poor. His daddy was always out of work and the family got by mostly on church charity and what they could grow, catch or shoot.
One day his mama invited me to have lunch with them and I had been raised to be too polite to say no.
The main course was possum, and I have to say it was the vilest thing I have ever eaten. Think of meat that's really gone bad swimming in grease. My stomach still turns thinking about it today.
I've seen what a pig eats and I still love pork.
I am aware of crabs' and lobsters' diets, but am still not deterred. In fact, scavangers generally make tasty meals.
My brother used to get $5.00 dollars for every possum he could get. They would get them with baseballs bats and sell them to Joe the Creek in Montgomery where I grew up not Al. This is in Ga. outside of Savannah. Close to Rob's area and neck of the woods. My other bad story of a possum is when I came home and I found my dog over a dead possum so being the kind person I think I am I burried it problem is after a lot of thought I think it may have just have been playing possum. But I guess I'll never know.
I think the same thing happened to Richard Gere once.
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