Sentiment among the New Zealand mainstream environmentalist community is to get rid of this ‘pest’ by any means possible (e.g. “hit them, and hit them hard” or “the only good possum is a dead possum”).
Rescued Possum, Forest
For a few seconds, I held out a blueberry in front of the wooden nest box. My hand shook ever so slightly, I had yet to physically meet a brushtail possum (Trichosurus vulpecula) before. A black paw timidly appeared from the darkness and quickly plucked the blueberry from my palm. I peered around the corner, my eyes adjusting to the darkness of her nest box, and saw her. She had beautiful beady eyes, this gorgeous pink nose, and massive fluffy ears. Only her head was visible; her body was cocooned in this fleece blanket that lined her nest box.
She was found as a tiny joey clinging onto her dead mother, who was
killed by a vehicle and left to die on the side of the road. Had
someone not checked her mother’s body, she would have starved to
death as her mother’s milk dried up, just another casualty of New
Zealand’s war on possums. As I stared at her happily popping
blueberries into her mouth, it was quite clear to me that she, and
those like her, were anything but ‘voracious’ as so vigorously
claimed. How could this even happen?
Framing of a Villain
To understand this framing, it is important to have some background
on the history of possums in New Zealand. Possums were successfully
introduced from Australia in 1858 by British settlers seeking to
establish a fur trade. The region, described as a ‘bird’s
paradise’1, was largely mammal-free, except for a few species of
native bats and marine mammals. Despite New Zealand changing
radically since colonial settlement (e.g. from land use change to
species composition), this notion of the environment as ‘pure’ has
not only been reinforced since then, but it has become an integral
part of New Zealand’s global identity (e.g. the 100% Pure New
Zealand tourism campaign, touted as a massive marketing success in
reinforcing New Zealand’s brand2).
These newly introduced possums spread into the bush with ease; they
were without the predators that maintained their numbers in their
Australian homeland and had forests full of vegetation to eat. These
possums, favouring the seclusion of the remote bush, proved rather
difficult for humans to access and control, making the harvesting of
fur, the whole reason the possum was there, much more difficult to
mechanise.
In response to possums spreading unabated further into forests and
revelation they were vectors of bovine tuberculosis (thus
threatening two of the nation’s primary economies of dairy and
beef), government agencies and conservation authorities began an
aggressive process of framing possums as villains, describing them
in terms such as a “pest of plague proportions” with “voracious
appetites”3.
Despite possums being arboreal folivores with a digestive system
similar to herbivorous horses and rabbits (called hindgut
fermentation4), they are blamed for extensively predating on
endangered native birds and their eggs (though these claims are
dubious as research on the dissection of thousands of possum
stomachs revealed less than 0.1% contained non-plant matter5). This
framing contributed to possums, along with rats and stoats, to
become targets for complete eradication in an aggressive, and highly
unrealistic, country-wide propaganda campaign, Predator Free 2050
(PF 2050). Fuelled by complex intersections of colonialism, human
supremacism, and nativism, PF 2050, and its accompanying
conservation ‘education’, is in full swing in Aotearoa New Zealand.
Anything Goes
Sentiment among the mainstream environmentalist community is to get
rid of this ‘pest’ by any means possible (e.g. “hit them, and hit
them hard”6 or “the only good possum is a dead possum”7). Young
children are actively encouraged to participate in the killings and
celebrate their contribution to ‘conservation’, with events such as
dead possum dress-up contests8 and possum hunting fundraiser events
(including the infamous event in 2017 where children drowned joeys
in a bucket while onlookers watched9). Those who engage in ‘pest’
control activities are regarded as patriotic citizens10 whom are
fighting the enemy (the ‘invasive’ possum) to ‘restore’ New Zealand
to its pre-human ‘pristine’ state. They are popular targets for
motorists, with squashed possums being a popular icon for road-trip
bingo. Possum fur has even been referred to as “eco-friendly” and
“cruelty-free”11 as the existence and support of the possum fur
trade is framed as eco-consumerism that protects native flora and
fauna. To adhere to possum-hating rhetoric is almost a prerequisite
to be a proper, patriotic Kiwi10. It is almost as if, for the
brushtail possum in New Zealand, anything goes.
Pamphlet found at DOC Rotoiti/Nelson Lakes i-Site - Produced by
Kiwi Holiday Parks & Accommodation, Bluebridge Cook Strait Ferries,
& Ace Rental Cars
The aggressive framing of the possum as a “voracious predator” which
is destroying New Zealand’s biodiversity is simply ignoring any
mention of anthropocentric pressures and squarely placing blame on a
convenient scapegoat. For the brushtail possum, a protected and
valued species within Australia, this marsupial is framed as a
villain across the Tasman. For them to be unfortunate enough to be
born in New Zealand, discourses of identity, belonging, and nativism
begin to influence their treatment and whether they are deemed
worthy of compassion, even in their death.
Becoming a Possum Advocate
I had not always been aware of this injustice towards brushtail
possums – in fact, I was not even fully aware there was a difference
between the opossum in North America and the plethora of other
possum subspecies in Australasia. Originally from Canada, I moved to
New Zealand in 2019 to pursue my PhD in Human-Animal Studies at the
University of Canterbury in Christchurch, New Zealand. I had not
picked a specific topic upon my arrival, but knew I wanted to
explore something related to speciesism and the treatment of animals
categorised as ‘others’. I have done research in this area before,
but not on such a large scale. I was lucky enough to be paired with
absolutely incredible supervisors, Dr. Annie Potts and Dr. Nik
Taylor, who led by example and mentored me to become the academic
activist that I now am, giving me the confidence to speak up in an
environment where voices of this kind are often marginalised,
ridiculed, and ostracised.
While the plight of other ‘pest’ animals is equally as important as
the possum, I chose them as there was something uniquely peculiar
about the aggressive nature of their framing that was unlike
anything I had ever seen before, something which I needed to
understand further. After meeting some rescued possums, and
experiencing their gentle presence first-hand, I quickly realised
the gravity of what this aggressive framing has done, and continues
to do, to them. With support, I designed a research project that
would allow me to best use my particular skill set to advocate for
possums through the lens of compassion and empathy.
Dobby, an elderly possum I got to meet during fieldwork – he
sure loved snacks! Picture courtesy of their rescuer
While this is a very short introductory post to the framing of the
possums in New Zealand, there is much more to uncover (and
re-frame). The more I learn, the more I want to share. This blog
will attempt to grapple with these complex ideas and act as a vessel
to encourage community engagement and activism. This blog would not
be possible without funding from the Culture & Animals Foundation,
for which I am incredibly grateful for their assistance and support.
Please share, follow, and engage with this material – not for me,
but for the possums that so desperately need people to care. Thank
you,
References