Wednesday, May 20, 2009

Armadillo Days

I have an armadillo living in my yard. I know I have one of these fat armored rats because yesterday I found fifty, FIFTY freshly dug post holes in an otherwise beautiful patch of 12' x 12' St. Augustine in the backyard. The armadillo makes these holes in a search for insects that live in the ground. I guess it took some serious looking night before last. Apparently 50 digs worth. It's hard to ignore the compelling visual summary of life that is scattered on my lawn today. We work hard...plant, water, fertilize, mow...to make a soft and pretty spot somewhere in our yards or our businesses or our hearts. We're proud of what we've done. What we've accomplished is, no bragging intended, lush: Found the perfect partner. Bought the dream home. Landed the best job. Grown the most magnificent children. Lost the extra pounds. Elected the most brilliant president... Then we get up one day and the place is full of holes. Unexpected, inconvenient, perhaps not dire - but a mess, nonetheless. Overnight. We usually run straight to the culprit/cause of the disaster, but are often befuddled by a process that seems less than iron-clad for making the madness stop. We are not in control. Armadillos are hard to discourage. I haven't found one online resource today that promises me I'll be rid of my hole digging squatter if I do "X" - which means, of course, that I'll have more holes to fill before a solution is found. Even more exciting - armadillos apparently have babies in July. If I can't run the critter off before July, we could have a swarm of four-legged back hoes roaming the lawn at night. And just like that - my world begins to spin on the life and times of an armadillo. We are not in control. Breathe deeply. Smile broadly. It's happening to all of us. Peace.

1 comment:

gay said...

The lack of control is what keeps us honest.