This amorous email came into the Possum NZ office last week and had us all in stitches! We especially liked the onomatopoeia (very ’60’s Batman adventure). Thanks Frances your possie pressie’s in the mail.

Hi Possums! I’ve got a small “Possum Tail” to tell, or Possum Tale to be more exact.

I was a young wife, we had been married for about a year, and every weekend we used to think of interesting things to do. When a long weekend loomed, we laid our plans to go hiking in National Park. So on Thursday we packed our gear in the car, and straight after work on Friday we were off like a rocket to Taupo for dinner, then onwards to National Park. We stayed in a Motel on Friday night, then began our long tramp up to the Ketetahi Hut, on the side of Mt Ngauruhoe on the Saturday morning. Ah, bliss!

A lovely fine, sunny day, not a cloud in the sky. Birds calling, the bush was fragrant and lush, and there was hardly another soul on the track. We took our time, paused often, and savoured our climb through the tree-line and on, up to the hut. We arrived in the late afternoon, tired, happy and ready for our evening meal and an early night. As recent newly-weds, this had an extra special meaning for us, as you can imagine. And there were no other hikers staying over − we were alone in the Hut!
Hmmmmm, all good.

Dinner was prepared, eaten by candle-light, we talked together while wrapped in our sleeping bags, and happily finished our mugs of hot chocolate. Meanwhile, the temperature dropped and darkness fell – revealing the splendid, mountain view of the Southern Cross constellation and the starry sky. Very romantic.

Then to bed. We’d put our mattresses side by side on the floor beside the fireplace. Snuggled down together… things were proceeding as they should when SUDDENLY − at a certain critical moment − WHOOSH, WHAM, THUD, and SCREECHES of TERROR from all THREE parties present!

A HORRIBLE experience for us all. The MALE HUMAN who was severely compromised when so rudely interrupted; the FEMALE HUMAN who felt the thud of a heavy, hairy, and smelly live object; and the POSSUM itself.

I dont know if the Possum was a girl or a boy, but it got such a fright at our frightened reactions, it’s claws ripped our sleeping bags as it gathered itself up and ran quickly back up the wooden walls of the hut. Back into the rafters, back into whatever dark and inaccessible corner it lurked in, never to be seen again.

We didn’t look for it. We were too warm in our sleeping bags, and too tired from our hike. But it took awhile to get to sleep !

That’s my Possum story, from 1973. And it’s true. But I never would have thought that a Possum would, or could, fall from the rafters. Perhaps it was distracted?

If you’ve got a Possum story, we’d love to hear it. Email it to us and we’ll pop it on the blog and send you a ‘possie-pressie’ to say thanks.