I don't understand armadillo culture. They do what they do. Every single night they come into my garden, though the security is high. They breach the perimeter through the fence, stones, logs, old tractor parts, and chicken wire. They dig deep, those insurgents, and they are bent on destruction. I certainly do not understand their religion. I cannot reason with them and they have no clue about fairness and democracy. I do not really think they are out to get me. I JUST THINK THEY HAVE THEIR OWN AGENDA. Perhaps they want their women in veils, and certainly they want the tasty worms and grubs they find in the soil. But now I will do it differently.
So, I have declared victory for the armadillos. I still want to grow vegetables (democratically). I will have raised beds, well out of reach of those armadillos. I will take an old cow watering trough with the rusted out bottom and install it in the garden. I will also have Andy make a few raised garden boxes. I am not defeated. I think that the armadillos and I can maybe live in harmony. Shooting them or axing them, like Lizzie Borden, is not an option.
It is always interesting, living in the country. Not only are you aware of all the critters, you see the wildflowers that bloom in their season, the changeable sky, and you feel the strange winds. You hear the dawn chorus of birds and you follow their songs throughout the day. I am so blessed, even with armadillos.
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