Brushtail possums are my regular and annoying nocturnal visitors: they climb up where the roof slopes low, just above my bedroom, then either along the bracing timber under the extended eaves, or, more noisily, over the roof. Then they investigate the verandah, often knocking things over.
If I appear they always scurry off, back along the route.
But after lunch today I looked up from the computer to see a round furry back and a bedraggled brushy tail – in the bird feeder. A possum visiting in daylight?
I had put a small scoop of birdseed there this morning, for the first time in about three weeks.
I tiptoed to the door and opened it very quietly, but this possum didn’t seem to notice. Was it deaf? I took some photos and the clicking was ignored. I spoke to it; no response. I moved further round to its side, to be visible.
It did turn and face me but made no move to run. I wasn’t sure how well it could see in daylight anyway.
Was this deafness, blindness, illness – or opportunistic boldness? It seemed unharmed and healthy enough.
And it clearly wanted to feed on, despite the light drizzle and its exposed position – to me and the weather. I left it to it.
A crimson rosella made the mistake of flying over to check out the feeder. Squawks and a scuffle and an aerial about-turn by the rosella.
The day possum regained its footing and continued its lunch.
When it had scoffed the lot, it turned around, jumped onto the oak table, and peed!