Armadilloes, scourge of my yard

Lola is up at the main house, barking ferociously in that tone I know is, "I see an armadillo, and I will bark it to death!"

Now that it is cool and dry most evenings, the armadilloes are out foraging for grubs and worms. They would like to work in my vegetable garden but I thwart them by burying fence several feet deep and keeping the gate locked. It has taken me years of trying just about anything to keep these critters from devastating the lettuce, digging up the carrots, and making mayhem in the beans in their nosey search. By spring our yard looks like a mine field with all those excavations. And you could easily break a bone stepping the wrong way into their holes.

Warren calls armadilloes 'those possums in fender skirts'. These nine banded armadilloes are all over Florida and the gulf coast, gradual migrants from Central and South America. They have very few predators, except for developers. Since we are developer-free, we have a lot of armadilloes. Yes, they are sort of cute in a prehistoric way. They seem quite oblivious as they jump up in the air as you approach, or never notice and keep on snuffling along.

In addition to the physical barrier of the fencing, I am a trapper. (I have tried repellants and they don't work!) I have two have-a-heart traps I set each night. And I always hope the traps will be empty in the morning because I have trouble freeing the prisoners. I hope that Andy will be here to do this chore. At the very least I hope we have trapped only armadilloes, not foxes or opossums or raccoons or feral cats, which we do from time to time.

We drive the traps down the lane a mile or two and open them near the property of our only distasteful neighbor. Actually, I think the armadilloes always come back!

Last night when Lola and I were out for her bedtime pee, an armadillo was spotted next to the vegetable garden. Lots of barking! Lola cornered a pretty big one, lots bigger than she is. Lola stabbed it with her sharp little dashchund nose and I drummed on it with my flashlight. (They are so dumb.) Finally, it scuttled out into the pasture and we could all call it a night.

I am in constant battle with these creatures. I don't want them in the garden or digging up the yard. Yet, I am beguiled by their soft grunts, their totally amazing shape, and their endurance. I love to watch the quadruplet babies who scuffle among the leaves in back of my studio.