I found a dead opossum in my yard last spring and thought I'd like to have his skull for my animal skull collection. I know, I know....but when I saw such a collection at a nature center I just knew I had to have my own.
Actually, I collect a lot of natural artifacts from the wild; feathers, fossils, nests, shells, etc. These objets d'art are my personal Smithsonian.
Anyway, I took the possum back into the woods and laid him among the rocks to let nature do its work. A day later, he had been cached by some animal - covered over with sticks and leaves. I hoped he wouldn't get dragged off but didn't check on him for weeks because he didn't smell so good.
When I checked in July, most of the beetle work had been done. A month later the skull was pretty clean so I brought it back to the house and soaked it in a bucket of bleach water overnight and let it dry in the sun the next day.
The mandible had separated from the skull since the connective tissues were gone. But I wanted to display his fearsome teeth so I decided to glue the mandible halves (left and right sides) together and then glue it to the skull. After studying it for a while to make sure things were lined up correctly, I firmly held the jaw in place while wicking in some thin CA (fast-setting super glue). I held the whole affair together for a couple of minutes to be certain the glue had cured. When I went to set it down...well, it wouldn't leave my hand. Unbeknownst to me, some of the thin glue had soaked on through to two of my fingers. After struggling for several minutes, it became obvious that this was a serious matter. I managed to open a bottle of acetone from the work bench and anointed the affected area. No effect! My struggling started to peel the skin from my fingers so I panicked and ran upstairs with the possum skull stuck in my hand and told Chris I was in trouble.
"Alas, poor Yorick!", she cried. Clearly she didn't appreciate the gravity of my situation so I gave her a stern look. She sighed, "Okay, lets try soaking it in hot water."
After five or ten minutes, it was still firmly attached to my hand. I looked up at her in alarm. Stoically, she tried to stifle her amusement but failed. I muttered, "It's really not that funny." She then bravely straightened her face and said, "Hello, emergency? My husband has glued his hand to an opossum head".
"Oh...Hi, Mrs. Beeler. We haven't heard from you in a while. He's done what now?"
After much kneading, twisting, and peeling of skin, the skull began to soften and release. Once I was free, an incredible sense of relief washed over me, easing both my anguish and pain. Gluing your hand to a possum skull rarely turns out well.
I took the skull back outside and sat it on a stump. Maybe I'll work on it some other time. Right now I don't even want to look at it.
It looks formidable. All those teeth!
Actually, I collect a lot of natural artifacts from the wild; feathers, fossils, nests, shells, etc. These objets d'art are my personal Smithsonian.
Anyway, I took the possum back into the woods and laid him among the rocks to let nature do its work. A day later, he had been cached by some animal - covered over with sticks and leaves. I hoped he wouldn't get dragged off but didn't check on him for weeks because he didn't smell so good.
When I checked in July, most of the beetle work had been done. A month later the skull was pretty clean so I brought it back to the house and soaked it in a bucket of bleach water overnight and let it dry in the sun the next day.
The mandible had separated from the skull since the connective tissues were gone. But I wanted to display his fearsome teeth so I decided to glue the mandible halves (left and right sides) together and then glue it to the skull. After studying it for a while to make sure things were lined up correctly, I firmly held the jaw in place while wicking in some thin CA (fast-setting super glue). I held the whole affair together for a couple of minutes to be certain the glue had cured. When I went to set it down...well, it wouldn't leave my hand. Unbeknownst to me, some of the thin glue had soaked on through to two of my fingers. After struggling for several minutes, it became obvious that this was a serious matter. I managed to open a bottle of acetone from the work bench and anointed the affected area. No effect! My struggling started to peel the skin from my fingers so I panicked and ran upstairs with the possum skull stuck in my hand and told Chris I was in trouble.
"Alas, poor Yorick!", she cried. Clearly she didn't appreciate the gravity of my situation so I gave her a stern look. She sighed, "Okay, lets try soaking it in hot water."
After five or ten minutes, it was still firmly attached to my hand. I looked up at her in alarm. Stoically, she tried to stifle her amusement but failed. I muttered, "It's really not that funny." She then bravely straightened her face and said, "Hello, emergency? My husband has glued his hand to an opossum head".
"Oh...Hi, Mrs. Beeler. We haven't heard from you in a while. He's done what now?"
After much kneading, twisting, and peeling of skin, the skull began to soften and release. Once I was free, an incredible sense of relief washed over me, easing both my anguish and pain. Gluing your hand to a possum skull rarely turns out well.
I took the skull back outside and sat it on a stump. Maybe I'll work on it some other time. Right now I don't even want to look at it.
It looks formidable. All those teeth!
