A BOY'S LIFE
By Jack Davis Published 1991

Possums made adorable pets. We always had a pet possum at one time or another. We had one called Joey who used to sleep in the ceiling and at dusk he would climb down from where he slept, then into the kitchen. When he had had his evening meal of apple or breadcrumbs he would usually go back into the ceiling.

Sometimes he would come back into the kitchen when our household was asleep. Then he would climb upon mother's dresser and tip plates and cups and saucers groundward.
 

One night he got into the cupboard and somehow prised the lid off a tin of golden syrup. Next morning there was syrup over everything.

Mother was so angry she threatened to take him out in the bush and dump him, but father talked her out of that.

Another night Joey came into mother and father's bedroom and just as father awoke Joey scuttled out of the door and into the ceiling with father's pipe. As he only had one pipe he threatened to get rid of Joey had to go without a smoke.

It was his turn to threaten to get rid of Joey. The following evening Joey again came out of the ceiling for his evening meal and brought back father's pipe, clenched in his paws. Father enticed him down with a handful of sugar and the exchange was made. But Joey went the way of most of our bush pets. One day the call of the bush overcame him and he returned to the wild.

Of the variety of wild pets we had, magpies were to me the most interesting. They were intelligent and could be very cunning and made good watchdogs. One day mother was in the front yard and she heard our pet magpie in the back yard calling out in alarm. She went around the back to investigate and a dugite was slithering through the geraniums. Mother went and got father's shotgun and blew that snake to pieces.

Our magpies, like our pet possums, always returned to their own. Father refused to cut the wings of our pet magpies. He always said if they wanted to go, let them. The pattern of them leaving would always be the same. First several wild magpies would appear and call out, our pet magpie would answer and run towards them. Then the flock would take off with our pet still grounded. He would call out after them After two or three visits our pet magpie would take to the air with them and he would leave - and leave us with the knowledge that he would be happier with his own kind.

We had several wild piglets that father caught but they never really rated as pets because as they grew big enough they became part of the family's food supply. Once we had two wild ducklings, but they too left us one evening and flew off to join the wild ducks.

The only pets mother baulked at having were bobtail goannas. They made good pets, but as soon as we mentioned bobtails to mother she would say No. Reminded her too much of snakes I suppose. Mother, like most bush people, seemed to have a personal vendetta against snakes.

One of mother's favourite snake yarns was about the time when father was farming at Hill-o-Waters in Waroona Mother, father, Aunty Maude and a friend were playing euchre.

They were busily engrossed in their game of euchre on the verandah, with the tall lamp throwing its glow an attracting night insects. Father felt something tighten, a sort of contraction on his leg under the table.

He confessed late that he thought it was his partner's foot urging him to make trumps. The pressure became so insistent that father looked down and there was a tiger snake curled around one of his legs Tiger snakes are reputedly one of the world's most deadly reptiles.

Father knew that and with a mighty yell he kicked out, sending the table, the snake and everybody flying backwards. Mother and Aunty Maude screamed and in the resultant bedlam the snake got away. Nevertheless that was the end of the euchre game. For that night anyway.

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References:                 Article:      Jack Davis

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