Stewed Possum

There was a possum harmed in this story. If that offends you then please do us all a favor and don’t read it!!!

A Fulton Funny Farm Tale

In the 1980’s Indiana residents experienced some brutal winter temperatures. The Fulton Funny Farm was in the middle of Indiana, about four miles outside of Cicero to be exact, so it caught the brunt of the -15F temperatures typical of this particular December. Dad, the proprietor of the Funny Farm was trying to herd a small gaggle of geese to the shelter provided for them.

As soon as he would get one inside, it would run back out into the cold.

Stupid animals! He thought. His face was frozen and his fingers and toes were numb. He went back into the warmth of the wood fired cook stove in the kitchen to get the circulation going again in his extremities, on the verge of leaving the geese to fend for themselves, when the notion struck him.  He’d been around many different species of animals all his life and self preservation was the highest of every animal instinct. What if they knew something he didn’t? As soon as he warmed a bit he grabbed a flashlight and went back into the cold. The goose shelter was not made for a human. He had to get down on his hands and knees to shine the light where it could reach every nook and cranny.

Sure enough, back in one corner of the enclosure was a ball of grey fur attached to two beady eyes. He moved a little closer to determine the species. As he got closer the animal arched its back and let out a hiss while bearing its teeth. A possum! He backed out slowly and shut the door. Dad thought about getting his shotgun and shooting the possum but that would leave a bloody mess and the geese probably wouldn’t go in anyway. Just evicting it wouldn’t work. If it got in once it would again and at least one of the geese would be a carcass surrounded by feathers in the morning.

He backed out, stood up, and went on a quest for a tool to dispatch the possum. Dad found a hammer in his shed that would do the trick. Back at the goose shelter he got back down on all fours. He shut off the light, opened the door and entered. He shined the light in the possum’s eyes temporarily blinding it and in the same instance swung his hammer at the possum’s head. Thumpity –thump went the possum’s head as it bounced off the hammer head and careened off of the side of the shed. It writhed a second and went limp. Dad grabbed the smooth possum tail, backed out of the shed and walked over to the back stoop and laid the possum carcass and the hammer down. He saw Mom, the other half of the Fulton Funny Farm, watching the fiasco from the back porch. He opened the door to the shed and the geese willingly went in. They would be snug in their down feathers out of the wind. Finally!

He went over to the back steps and picked up the possum and the hammer and went in. He grinned as he held the carcass up for Mom to see.

“This is why those stupid birds wouldn’t go into the shed.” He said

Mom looked the possum up and down, poking it once or twice. Dad thought that was the end of the story until Mom spoke,

“Let’s cook it!” she suggested with a gleam of mischief in her eyes, “We’ve never had possum stew.”

We’ll never know if the idea was original or she was mimicking Granny Clampet in the popular TV show The Beverly Hillbillies, who was always talking of making possum stew. Mom was short and feisty and could have passed for a heavier version of Granny. She put newspapers under a pan to catch the entrails and any unwanted byproduct from dressing the possum in the kitchen, the only spot warm enough to do the deed on this cold night.

Dad positioned himself on a stool as Mom held the possum over the pan. Dad was preparing to start the process when the possum tail wrapped around Mom’s arm! She screamed and flung that possum across the kitchen. Dad howled with laughter until tears streamed down his face. Mom recovered enough to go retrieve the possum that stayed lifeless in the spot where it landed. We’ll never know if the possum was playing “possum” or whether it had a post- mortem muscle spasm. Either way, later in the evening it ended up in a pot boiling over the stove.

Mom had prepared goose, rabbit, squirrel, chicken and almost any type of meat available and mostly it turned out good. She seasoned, and seasoned, and added noodles and seasoned some more but still this tasted like…. possum!

All the people that passed through the Funny Farm in the next few days got to (or had to) taste that possum, that is, those that were game to try. Ultimately it ended up in the dog’s bowl. They loved it and licked their chops for more!

Dan Fulton

12/15/18