The Tale of the Christmas Possum (An East Tennessee Favorite)
Folks around East Tennessee used to tell a story about the Christmas Possum, a scruffy little mountain critter with more heart than sense. The story shifted from hollow to hollow, but the version most people knew went something like this:
In a tiny Smoky Mountain cabin, not far from what’s now Townsend, lived a widowed mother and her young son. Times were lean — the kind of lean mountain families understood all too well — and that particular December had brought early cold, thin crops, and very little money for gifts. The mother kept a brave face, but the boy could feel the heaviness around the home as Christmas drew near.
One frosty evening, the boy walked outside to gather firewood. As he stepped off the porch, he heard a faint rustling. There, shivering under a stump, was a small possum. It was thin, half-frozen, and clearly out of luck. Most mountain folk didn’t think much of possums, but the boy felt sorry for it. Instead of shooing it off, he scooped it up and carried it inside, wrapping it in an old quilt by the fire.
His mama raised an eyebrow — bringing wildlife inside wasn’t exactly the plan — but she let the critter stay until the cold snap passed.
The story said that the little possum, warmed and fed, stuck around longer than expected. It followed the boy everywhere, even curling up next to him at night. The boy named it Hollow, because that’s where he found it.
On Christmas Eve, with nothing much to give each other, the family settled in early. During the night, Mama woke to the possum scratching at the door. When she opened it, Hollow scurried out into the dark. She figured that was that — wild things return to wild places.
But just before sunrise, the boy woke to a loud thump on the porch. He opened the door and found Hollow proudly sitting beside a pile of hickory nuts, pinecones, and a single fat, fresh-caught trout — a gift from the little possum who had nothing else to offer.
That morning, they cooked the trout, cracked the nuts, and made a simple Christmas breakfast that felt like a feast. The return of Hollow — and his unexpected generosity — reminded them that kindness always found its way back home, even when it came from an unlikely friend.
Mountain families passed the tale around for generations, calling it “The Christmas Possum Story.” It became a reminder that the season wasn’t about presents or decorations — it was about small acts of goodness, even from the humblest of creatures.
