A few years ago Grandma Opal told my boys she had
a hankering for possum. She promised to cook one if they
could catch one. The hunt was on, but, even though
there are something like 1,000 possums for every acre
here in the county surrounding Mayberry, none could
be caught.

Finally, one icy night we pulled into my parents driveway
and a possum was pinned in the headlights of the car. Both
back doors burst open and the boys began the chase. It was one
of the funniest sights I have ever beheld; legs, arms and furry
things were sliding all over the ice. They finally got him backed
into a corner of the house where one of the boys stood guard
while the other ran for a trash can to cover him with until they
could get a cage.

After caging the possum they grain fed him for a few weeks.
Their cousin Bobby (from Orlando) was coming for
Christmas and did not want to miss out on the fun of eating
such a tasty dish. I wasn't sure they would make it through
skinning and dressing the possum. According to Bill it was the
dirtiest, stinkiest job he's ever had to do.

Once he was prepped they headed down to Grandma's. She boiled
him (to get out the enormous amounts of fat possums contain) and
then baked him with sweet potatoes. We told the boys we were
willing to try the delectable dish (even though I have been told that
liars have no part in the kingdom of God), but sad to say they ate the
whole thing before they remembered to give us a call.

If you are interested in possum recipes check out the Possum Cook
Book. I should think this story will redeem me in the sight of the male
part of my audience. Just let me know if, when you come over, you'd
rather have me make the Hummingbird Cake (previous post) or the
Possum Stew.