Of Human Stink in Floridian Heat and Its Effect on Baby Armadillos

The whole world seems terribly concerned with the fate of Paris Hilton today. I am not.

Instead, I spent almost the entire day, starting at 8:00 this morning, writing brief descriptions of books for a prospective buyer. It looks like another $1000 order, which is good news, of course. So engrossed in doing this was I that I hadn't even taken a shower yet when I heard rustling outside the house. Sure enough, the quartet of baby armadillos was back, snuffling their way through the brush and hoovering up ants and termites and such. I decided to go and have my third close encounter with the little critters.

For the first time today, they wanted nothing to do with me. As soon as I started approaching, they ran back to their warren and won't come out again. The only difference between today and my previous two encounters was that I haven't showered today. Perhaps 94° heat and the accumulated scent of humanity combined to send a strong enough warning to the armadillos for the first time today. Humans are, after all, dangerous, and I suspect that an unwashed human is more likely to eat an armadillo than a hygienic one in this part of the world. Thousands of years of evolution may well have resulted in natural selection for armadillos who fear stinky humans.

It only makes sense. Believe me, here in North Florida, you do not want to get stuck on a bus on a June day next to someone who has been waiting at the stop for twenty minutes and didn't take a shower. I'd run, too.

LL will be home soon. Maybe I'd better go do that, eh?

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Baby Armadillos

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These four little critters are living in the woods behind my house. Today was my second encounter with them, and this time LL got to see them, too, though she's too busy working on a grant proposal to have a romp with them. They're quite a friendly bunch.

Here in the American Southeast, it seems that most people think of armadillos as either lawn pests or road kill. That's too bad; I find them to be among the most endearing of the local wildlife. In fact, I've found them to be far more amicable than most of the people I've met. I've yet to see an armadillo slap a Confederate flag on its ass, for instance, and then be unable to fathom why anyone should be offended by it. I'll miss these animals a great deal more than I'll miss the local culture when I move away from here.

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