I have written about our relatively recently arrived armadillos before. They have made themselves at home here in northwest Georgia in the last few years. We never saw armadillos when I was growing up here. The animal they remind me of the most is the possum. They both seem slow and a little dense, which I think accounts for the most noticeable sign of their presence here — dead armadillos in the road.
There are other signs of the armadillo’s presence, the most significant of which is the holes they dig while looking for food. I used to see holes in our old yard, and I see them along Fouche Gap Road when I walk the dogs.
The most noticeable sign of their actual presence, as opposed to their former presence, is the sounds they make while rooting around in the undergrowth. I sometimes hear squirrels and deer, but their noises are distinctly different from the armadillo, mainly because armadillos seem to show no fear of humans or dogs. Squirrels and deer run; armadillos keep rooting around, apparently oblivious to everything around them.
Zeke, Sam and I happened to notice some armadillo noises a few days ago when we walked down Flouche Gap Road into Texas Valley. We couldn’t see anything, but the dogs were very interested. I was pretty sure it was an armadillo because whatever it was just kept on making noise.
A few days later we saw them in the same place. That set the dogs off, of course. Here they are homing in on one of them.
The armadillo is almost hidden just above the white stripe at the edge of the road, right where Sam’s ears are pointed. I couldn’t get a better shot while keeping the dogs under control.
Zeke has a history with adolescent armadillos. I posted about that episode four years ago almost to the day. In that case, Zeke managed to break away from me and quickly dispatch one. The armadillo’s fearless behavior is consistent with the reason given for their spread into the southeastern US, that is, they have no natural predators here. Except for Zeke.
Wikipedia says that our armadillos, the nine-banded variety, usually have four offspring. (Wayne, whose used to comment here occasionally and whose blog Niches I still miss, also said they usually have four offspring.) When we saw the young armadillos four years ago, there were two. I am pretty sure there were two this time as well. These acted like the unfortunate one of four years ago; they showed absolutely no fear of me or the dogs. Like those of four years ago, these were frolicking around like puppies. Fortunately for them, Zeke has gotten old enough that he didn’t break his collar to get to them.
