The Worsley Possum

The Australian possum is a marsupial... with a good imitation of hobnail boots when trotting across ceilings from above. However they look nice and very few people would think of exterminating them, apart from that being illegal. The idea used to be to catch them and transport them a sufficient distance that they won't come back, and will become someone else's problem. Unfortunately this action was generally not good for the possum.

I had one in our roof in the sole house in the ghost town of Worsley (after which my business is named) in Western Australia. Going up in to the roof with a torch I happened to look down the gap between the brick chimney and the Jarrah timber wall lining (imagine a 150-year-old house made of mahogany -- exterior and interior walls, floors and ceilings, all interior surfaces polished). There was the possum laying on its back looking up at me.

I climbed back down, got my camera, climbed back up the ladder -- and the flash wouldn't work. Climbed back down (a long way, this house had 14ft ceilings), fixed the flash, climbed back, focussed the camera by shining the torch down the hole and took a picture.

All this time the possum remained in the same position, on its back on a bed of leaves, looking up at me with what seemed to be mild amusement at the antics of this large strange animal.

That photo made the State morning daily, Australasian Post (then our major pic-story weekly), and several other publications including photography magazines where it was accompanied by the story of its taking. I also received a few extra checks from a couple of those publications who had sold the pic on overseas.

I took the possum on a 7 mile drive (handling it into the box with thick leather gloves) but three days later it was back. At that stage, I decided that a partner in what seemed to be growing into such a substantial freelance income deserved to stay. I explained that he could, so long as it didn't piddle between the ceiling lining boards.

I also rigged up a spotlight in the roof coupled to a switch by my bed -- if he made too much noise coming home, I flooded his area with light, which would quieten him. At least it would quieten him other than at times when he brought a ladyfriend home; marsupial sex with a timber sounding board underneath and corrugated iron above creates quite a din.

Gordon Woolf

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