Nobody loves the possum. That’s kind of the point.
The hissing, the drooling, the naked scaly tail, the teeth — all fifty of them — and the dramatic habit of passing out and smelling like death when startled. None of this is doing the possum any favors in the public opinion department. But here’s what most people don’t know: that possumwandering through your backyard at night may be one of the best things for your family’s health that you’re never going to think to thank.
I’m making the case for the possum today. Stick with me.
Opossum or possum — and what’s the difference?
The animal in the United States is the Virginia opossum, written with an O, but spoken without it. Americans dropped the silent O sometime after the word was recorded from the Algonquin language around 1600. The possums in Australia — the common brushtail possum — are a related marsupial but a different animal entirely. Both usages are considered acceptable in everyday conversation, which makes me feel better about the fact that I’ve been saying it wrong my whole life.
North America’s only marsupial
Yes, really. Right here in the Northwoods, waddling through the leaf litter at night, is our very own pouched mammal. Their ancestors migrated up through South America at some point and have been here for a very long time — long enough to be a genuinely tropical creature that has slowly pushed northward and now has to contend with Wisconsin winters on a body designed for warmer climates. Their ears and tail tips are prone to frostbite. January is a hard month to be a possum.
The tick vacuum in your backyard
This is the part worth remembering. Researchers at the Cary Institute of Ecosystem Studies spent years testing which animals were most effective at killing the black-legged ticks that spread Lyme disease. They put different species in enclosed areas with ticks and counted survivors. White-footed mice? Terrible. Chipmunks and shrews? Similarly bad. Possums? Extraordinary. Because possums are compulsive groomers, and when ticks find their way into their fur, the possum eats them. Researchers found possums killed approximately 96% of the ticks that landed on them. A single possum may kill thousands of ticks per week — up to an estimated 5,000 per season. They’ve been called a “dilution host,” meaning they absorb tick exposure in a way that reduces overall disease pressure in an ecosystem. No spray, no barrier, nothing else out there does what a possum does on the night shift in your backyard.
Playing possum — and why it’s not a choice
The hissing and drooling when threatened? Bluffing. The possum is a small, slow animal with limited options and it’s doing its best impression of something scary. But the playing dead behavior — that’s genuinely strange. Scientists believe it’s involuntary: a catatonic state triggered by the nervous system in extreme moments of stress. The animal isn’t choosing to play dead. Its body just does it. Brain activity recordings show the possum is highly alert throughout. The smell of death it releases is apparently convincing enough to work on most predators, and the possum simply waits it out — anywhere from a few minutes to several hours — then quietly recovers and walks away.
A short, useful life
Virginia possums in the wild live one to two years, occasionally longer. Even in captivity with regular food and no predators, they rarely make it past four. They reproduce quickly — two litters per year, six to nine young each time, born after only thirteen days of gestation at the size of a honeybee, crawling into the pouch to develop. The population constantly replenishes itself. It’s a strategy built for a species that’s going to be someone’s dinner a lot of the time.
A friend shared a photo recently of a possum skeleton in the woods — nearly intact, long narrow snout, all fifty teeth still present. It had been there for months. That was what started this whole episode. A creature that spent its whole short life eating ticks, cleaning up carrion, asking nothing of anyone, and returning quietly to the forest floor. There’s something worth respecting in that.
Next time you see one frozen in your headlights: there goes the tick vacuum. There goes North America’s only marsupial. There goes a creature that nobody loves, doing the work anyway.
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By choosing to watch this video or listen to this podcast, you acknowledge that you are doing so of your own free will. The content shared here reflects personal experiences and opinions and is intended for informational and educational purposes only. I am not a licensed biologist, ecologist, or wildlife professional. Any nature observations, identifications, or suggestions offered should not be considered a substitute for professional scientific or environmental guidance. Always follow local regulations when observing or interacting with wildlife and natural spaces. You are solely responsible for any decisions or actions you take based on this content.
