Playing Possum and Other Myths of the Animal Kingdom

Playing possum isn’t playing at all.

I saw an opossum in the road the other day, but didn’t know if it was dead or just “playing possum.” When I drove by the following day and saw it holding the same pose, I knew it wasn’t practicing its thespian skills. Playing possum does not work if the enemy you are faking out is a three thousand pound mail truck. After that, I began to wonder if “playing possum” is a true animal behavior at all. And if not, how many other animal myths are out there?

For instance, I’ve never seen a bee make a beeline. Bees don’t travel in lines. They swarm. It’s ridiculous to imagine thousands of bees flying wing-to-wing like chorus girls in a can-can line. A formation like that would stretch for miles. If bees truly moved in a beeline, somebody would have noticed before now.

Likewise, a snail can’t move at a snail’s pace. Snails are unipods; they can’t pace. They can move at a snail’s glide, but pacing requires at least two feet.

From myths to metaphors

Animal metaphors fill our everyday language, skewing our perception of realistic animal behavior. Are we even aware of the unsubstantiated hype we absorb from proverbs and fairy tales? Owls are wise. Foxes are sly. Ants are hard working. Tortoises are steadfast and hares irresponsible. Does no one question why?

And who says church mice are poorer than mice in other dwellings? I imagine those wee beasties would be just as destitute in a warehouse as in a cathedral. Any biologist will tell you that sloths aren’t really lazy (they just have slow metabolisms), and bats aren’t actually blind. And as for the craziness of loons? Frankly, I can’t see any reason that lakeshore living would cause that depth of insanity. These critters get a bum rap.

Skunks, home remedies and old wives’ tales

Aesop isn’t the only source of animal misrepresentation. Not two days after the dead possum episode, my “dog nephew” got skunked. While researching home remedies for deodorizing the dog, I unearthed numerous suggestions for how to keep skunks from spraying. For instance, skunks purportedly will not spray if they cannot see their adversary. Helpful to know if you catch a skunk in a live trap – just throw a towel over it – but not as useful if Pepe Le Pew is trundling through your backyard. Incidentally, if you do capture one, experts suggest you tiptoe up to the trap, holding your towel like a shield and humming softly so as not to alarm the skunk. Once you get close enough, you can throw the towel over the trap without triggering the skunk to detonate. Then you can call animal control, who will laugh themselves silly at your plight.

Of course, when it comes to skunks, an ounce of prevention is worth a bathtub full of tomato juice. Apparently skunks are averse to light, citrus peels, mothballs and coyote or dog urine. They will take themselves off the premises rather than encounter any of these substances. So we just need to teach Fido to carry a flashlight, or spritz him with eau de orange naphthalene before he goes out to play. At the very least, we can encourage him to piddle on any skunk that dares raise its tail, right?

Do possums really play possum?

So back to my original question: do possums really play possum when they feel threatened? My sister-in-law had the opportunity to learn the answer years ago on the farm. One night she went up to the barn after supper to do the chores. The possum was masquerading as a cat. It had climbed onto the workbench and was eating out of the barn cat’s bowl. My sis mistook the creature for the family mouser, and was reaching to pet it just as she snapped on the barn light. If ever a possum was going to be provoked into playing dead, a sudden bright light and a shrieking teenage girl should have done it. But we’ll never know.

After one look at the possum, she made a beeline for the house.