Adopt Sophie

Species: Common Brushtail Possum

Sophie is a common brushtail possum, but to us, there is nothing common about her.

When she first arrived, she was what carers call a “pinkie”, completely hairless, eyes sealed shut, so small and vulnerable you could see every vein beneath her paper-thin skin. Before anything else, we had to ask ourselves the hardest question. Was she even viable to raise?

We weighed and measured her tiny body, only about 60 grams, checking every fragile limb for injuries. Her survival wasn’t guaranteed. Every organ still needed time to grow and strengthen if she was to have any chance of thriving in the wild. It was a delicate balance between hope and heartbreak.

Sophie’s story is one repeated far too often. Her mother had been forced to make a home in an urban roof cavity after losing her natural hollow to land clearing. Every time a tree with a hollow is cut down, that’s one less home these animals can ever return to. Pushed out of their forests, possums have no choice but to move closer to humans, taking shelter in sheds and ceilings, just trying to survive. But this time, tragedy struck. Her mother’s search for shelter ended in tragedy when she consumed rat poison left in the roof, a cruel, agonising death in a desperate attempt to find a safe home. They were discovered together in the backyard.  Sophie’s mother wracked with internal bleeding, life ebbing away as she bled out. Miraculously, little Sophie showed no obvious signs of poisoning herself. When the homeowner found tiny Sophie alive beside her dead mother, perhaps guilt won out over fear. In the end, they did the one merciful thing they could, they called the wildlife hotline to try to save the tiny, orphaned baby.

Those first days with Sophie were harrowing. She would only drink milk occasionally, often refusing it stubbornly, too weak to latch properly. Feeding her was a test of patience and hope. One night, she lay in my hands, limp and fading. I was certain it would be her last. I tucked her into a soft liner in my shirt and lay down on the couch with her on my chest. If she was going to leave this world, I was determined she wouldn’t do it alone.

But morning brought a miracle. She was still moving, tiny feet pushing gently against the pouch. I believe it was the warmth, the rise and fall of my breath, and the steady beat of my heart that reminded her to keep fighting. From that day on, she drank every time we offered milk. Her eyes grew brighter. Her tiny body filled out with strength.

We watched in awe as she transformed from a fragile, nearly hopeless pinkie into a strong, determined little possum ready to one day climb trees again. That’s what wildlife care is about: refusing to give up on the lives others overlook. Because even the smallest, most vulnerable creature deserves a second chance, and the wild needs every single one of them.