Sitka or Bust: Commute The World

‘Dillos ‘dillos. I’ve been on a ‘dillo hunt since I saw that first dude run through the brush on the path to the parsley pasture. They’re very intriguing critters. I mean, I guess I never really think creatures like that are something I might stumble across on a walk, but with all these new states I can’t help but need to adjust my notions to fit the region I’m in. In Louisiana, a few years back, I was just driving around with my mum and step dad when I’m thrust from the car to “coerce” an armadillo into moving. Like herding, I suppose, but without any idea of how to do it. More like me running through a field after an armadillo, flapping my arms and struggling to breath in the exertion. Broad daylight too. The thing is, armadillos are mostly nocturnal. I was most likely running after a rabid beast. Idiot.

Apparently, the dogs here are natural-born armadillo hunters and they can kill them if their jaws fit around the shell. Some sneaky bastards can elude the dogs for years until they grow too large for the dogs to get a grip, effectively gaining immortality. Smart devils. They root around in the ground, digging up patches of earth as they rummage for food. You can sometimes see their dens hollowed out of the sides of dirt walls.

I boasted that I’d cook one if we caught it.

And then, they told me armadillos were the only creature besides humans known to carry leprosy.

I’m not sure I’d love the flavor of leprosy. A little too earthy for me, with a hint of rancid. Maybe that works for some people, but I’m probably not gonna go licking anything rumored to have leprosy. No thank you. I’ll pass.

I’d kinda forgotten about the traps set around the farm until I walked back up to the house from feeding the cows their dinner and saw A FRIGGIN’ ‘DILLO sitting on the deck. And of course, unconsciously, I shouted those very words to the sky as a bounce went into my step and I practically ran to the cage. What an interesting creature. Cute ears, fluted from his rather awkward shaped head. I imagine that you could say armadillos are the bastard children of common wharf rats and dragons. Mythical looking, elusive, completed in shades of gray. A monochrome masterpiece.

I think my excitement got the dogs all excited. Perhaps even my whispers of “what is it?” That very question, when asked in a particular manner, will get them into hunting mode and they’ll immediately start prowling perimeters for an unseen delicacy. Sure, I’m an instigator. The dogs just kinda simmered down and awkwardly sniffed at it through the cage. No fun in trapped prey.