ARMADILLO SITES

Where an armadillo a day keeps the boredom at bay

Armadillo Central. Everything you ever wanted to know about the armadillo (or not)

Dillo Scape, All armadillos, all the time. Games and other fun things to do.

Two boys sat in the front yard, engrossed by the antics of their newly found pet. "Touch it." the one said, "Touch it and watch what it does." The other reached out his grubby hand and patted it on the back. "Cool!" he delighted. "An' look at that fur, weird ain't it?" "Yeah... and those claws will make the girls run, I bet 'cha." They continued their exploration and muses as the evening waned. While the sun sat just on the horizon, a neighbor boy came to see what all the excitement was about. He peered over the older boy's shoulder; grimaced and gasped, "What is that?" The two boys cast silent mischief between themselves and in unison declared, "It's a really ugly dog." And they stifled the giggles 'til their eyes watered. "Oh, yeah," the youth pondered, "it sure is."

This true story is not so unlike young Hawkins of 'Treasure Island' fame when he chanced upon what he thought to be giant slugs, only later to find out they were sea lions on the shore. What must it have been like to find new creatures never seen before, never heard of? All the more adventurous if it was something as odd as an armadillo. Imagine the tales the first settlers must have spun of a scaly little animal with ears like a rabbit, claws like a bear and a nose like an opossum. What manner of sorcery must have surrounded this humble critter with a tottering gait, dim wits and eyes in serious need of corrective laser surgery?

It had been nearly 22 years since my first encounter with this unusual animal of the dusk and dawning. I came across one in a Florida pine forest one summer eve and surprised him and me both. Foolishly I chased him, losing him in the thicket of the tangled undergrowth, spying him again only to lose him once more. The chase was short as he, in his comfy armor, was spared the tearing teeth of the palmetto and brambles, while I had to return to the campsite, torn and bleeding from the foray. Ah, but it was worth the scratches to see one so close.

Years and years passed and though I ventured often into the woods in early morn, never again did I see another of these prehistoric little critters rooting about. Sure, they decorate the roadside in unbelievable numbers. There would be days that my commute would share 5 or so with me, in various stages of an over-acted death scene as I scurried by in my car. 'Dillos on the half shell' I would often think to myself and wondered if they were actually real or if they fell from heaven, pre-squished and posed for road kill? After all, it had been years since I had seen a living one, and maybe he was just a figment of a young girl's imagination.

This all changed this past fall, much to my delight, though few shared my enthusiasm for this oddity. I was afforded the opportunity of many sightings (as if were Fox Mulder and they were little alien life forms) on a certain stretch of road for my weekend travels. One, two, three, five, eight -.my goodness! One evening I had counted up to a dozen living, breathing, armor-plated critters all perfectly contented to dig for grubs along the dried up swale. I could hardly contain myself on several occasions, though I don't quite know why.

Then, one early morning as the cool mists just lifted off the dewy grass, I saw one, mere steps away from me on a knoll outside my office. Slowly, quietly, as if stalking my prey, I drew closer and closer to him. Unaware, he continued to busy himself with rooting and pulling at the grass to reveal his breakfast. On occasion, he would pause, sit up like a bunny and test the air. Convinced all was clear, he proceeded with his foraging. I crept to within six feet or so of this amusing creature and stood still, plotting to capture him and get a photo of him with me. Proof, I needed proof that they do live before becoming a roadside all-you-can-eat buffet for the turkey vultures.

To my dismay, he bolted, surprisingly fast down the knoll and under a fence. Lost was my chance to prove to the world that they are not among the myths of dragons, unicorns and UFO's. The truth is out there. They really are just ugly dogs.

Gail Boysen has pretty much rejected the idea of naming her first-born "Chad., but hasn't completely ruled out "Dill."