The Rainforest Journal: Outing #18 – Days 6-7

The last two nights have been pretty hectic, with Possums climbing the tent, hissing at one another and much grunting about the place.

 

Day 6

(Saturday 17-January-2015)

THE FOUR REGULARS ARE FINE

As I mentioned in a previous post Bobby and Guido are still being their pushy, obnoxious selves: standing over the food, intimidating the females away and fighting like mortal enemies in the ongoing war for pasta domination.

Bobby gives another Possum the thousand-yard-stare: "You want the food? just come and take it off me. Come on Homie.."

Bobby gives another Possum the thousand-yard-stare: “You want the food? just come and take it off me. Come on Homie just come taaaaake it..”

Bobby came down his tree first tonight and although I saw Guido milling around for bits and peices just a few meters away, he didn’t seem too interested in fighting Bobby over the pasta/potato dinner; Bobby on the other hand,  well he spent most of his time standing upright – staring at Guido – tail flicking and whumping the ground: Daring him to make a move.

... "Better hurry home-boy I'm eating all you food..."

… “Better hurry home-boy loook I’m eating all you food bruh whachu gunna doooo…”

Guido never made his move, and Bobby triumphantly pigged himself full. Both males would rather eat themselves sick than leave a trace for any other of their kind. But I also get the impression that the dominant Possum on any given night has little to do with anything other than which Possum is the hungriest.

In an effort to stop one Possum eating everything at once, I’ve started spooning only half the pot onto the plate outside at sundown; saving the other half for about 10:30pm – when the second “wave” of more timid Possums drop by the tent to rummage around through the leftovers – after the males have filled their guts.

The little girl in the mother-daughter combo: we'll call her Daisy.

The little girl in the mother-daughter combo: we’ll call her Daisy.

This is usually the females, who’re much more timid than the males, and come with their babies later in an effort – I would assume – to avoid having the snot bashed out of them by the greedy and aggressive Bobby and Guido.

The female mother-daughter pair did indeed come later tonight, at which point I tipped the remaining pasta onto the plate for them and they got at least a little while eating it before the males returned; no doubt hearing the smacking of furry lips and outraged by the thought other animals might be getting something to eat. Since these two are regulars now I might as well give them names. We’ll call the mother Martha, and the daughter Daisy.

Daisy's mother: We'll call her Martha.

Daisy’s mother: We’ll call her Martha.

 
Martha again. Clearly absent the day they gave out good looks.

Martha again. Clearly absent the day looks were given out.

 
Daisy (left), and Martha (right). They are inseparable.

Daisy (left), and Martha (right). They are inseparable.

Anyway the males ruined the girls meager meal of leftovers – as usual – and having tried the ‘naughty dog’ voice in an effort to distract Bobby from charging at Martha and Daisy repeatedly, found that he wasn’t at all concerned with anything I had to say.

Bobby, having returned in his best wife-basher singlet, beats them bitches from his spot then prepares to charge at them again.

Bobby, having returned in his best wife-basher singlet, beats them bitches from his spot, then prepares to charge at them again.

Didn’t matter how gruff I made my voice, he remained standing on his back legs upright, staring-down at the females just waiting for them to come an inch too close. I even shoved his rump while he stood there; he didn’t even look back, just rocked slightly with the push of my fingers, then resumed staring at the girls.

At this point I’d dished put all the food I had for the evening, got inside and zipped-up the tent. This didn’t stop them scratching, climbing and pawing at the tent and I did get up and toss out a bit of the fruit & nut mix that crazy Chinese chick insisted I take with me, then just returned bed and read until they gave-up haranguing me for more pasta-dinner.

 

Day 7

(Sunday 18-January-2015)

THE GIRLS NIGHT OUT

Well, tonights little Marsupial gathering was quite the departure from the standard. Bobby showed up first, which is nothing out of the ordinary of course; Bobby or Guido, or Bobby AND Guido are always the first to come out and see what’s on offer in fine Possum cuisine each night.

Tonight however, a force far more powerful than the greedy males visited the tent. A force, sufficiently intimidating that neither Bobby or Guido cared to even make a try for the pasta.

What sane, solitary male would even bother trying to take on this?

What sane, solitary male would even bother trying to take on this?

That’s right, not just Martha and Daisy tonight; but a third, additional, fully grown adult female came to eat the place out. Like a mole patrol at a shopping mall they came in a group and took over the place, smacking their slutty lip-gloss-lathered lips and stinking like a brothel.

Laughing at the outnumbered boys, who could do nothing but watch-on as their nightly feed was usurped by these horrible husseys.

Of course, being the Patron Saint of Brushtails I could not intervene no matter how I may have wanted to; like all omnipotent, benevolent beings my place is to sit back and be amused by the frustrations of lesser beings; not get involved or help in any way.

But it did give me an excellent opportunity to have myself an all-out pat-fest with the smallest of the group – Marthas daughter, Daisy.

Daisy, getting some inter-mammalian loves while filling her little belly.

Daisy, getting some inter-mammalian loves while filling her little belly.

 
..awwww

..awwww

 
...

I found no objection from any of the larger females and Daisy herself seemed to just love the pats; soaking them up while she nibbled and munched on her pasta, nuts and fruit. Never jumping when my hand contacted her or anything like that. Of course why would she be afraid? I’m the dood with the food!

Of course, from this we’ve learnt that there is absolutely no comradeship, love lost or sharing between males; Solitary badcats who couldn’t care less who goes without as long as their stomachs are full, and even then they’ll continue eating just to make sure no other Possum gets any.

The females though, not only come together and work as a group to get food (ala: “Safety in Numbers”), but share from the same plate without any hassles or greediness at all. Even the babies eat from the plate with the adult females; there’s no “wait till last”-style pecking order between females.

Several hours later, after the females had cleared the area of pasta as well as some fruit and nuts I additionally provided, I’m laying here reading on my phone when I here quiet rustling, then thumping, then the tent’s fly squeaking as one of the Possums begins walking around on the roof.

“Guido! Oi Mutherfucker! Get down you’ll ruin the tent!!”

Still, the walking continues.

So up I sit, and begin feeling around the underside of the roof to locate the lumpy weight of this pushy little bastard. I feel here, I feel around there. Uh-huh!

I start shoving at the weight in the middle of the roof from below, “Get off, come on Bro”. Eventually I hear him scuttle back down off the roof and return to the ground. He immediately walks around the corner to the door and starts pawing at it: leaning with his front paws on the soft fabric, they do that a lot, Possums.

Knowing I still have some fruit & nut mix I open the tent door zip to give him the last of what I have, and am mildly surprised by who it is.

It is neither Guido OR Bobby, but a tiny young male (evident by the orange stain on his chest, tiny asit was). A tiny young male I’ve never seen before. No mother, he’s completely alone and the moment the tent zip is opened well, he just starts climbing right on into the tent with me. Just as well Guido and Bobby aren’t here they’d kill him he’s so small.

Young male: No mother or adult females around, he had to wait until all the other Possums finished everything before it was safe to sneak over and have a look around for himself.

Young male: No mother or adult females around, he had to wait until all the other Possums finished everything before it was safe to sneak over and have a look around for himself.

I manage to keep him out there, but everytime I put my hand out to scatter nuts or move the plate he grabs my hand then starts trying to climb back inside the tent again.

He also got about a teaspoon of pasta, that I managed to scrape from the sides of the pot, but that was all there was left for the little guy.

The Rainforest Journal: Outing #18 – Days 6-7
Rate in Guidos

Jason
Animal-loving cleaner with a parrot.

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