Tag Archives: chasing armadillos

Armadillo Removal

how to get rid of armadillos

Running, running, running away from the armadillo removal guys.  My leathery-looking pointed ears picked up the sound of two men stomping around, the metal cage rattling its parts and thumping up against the men’s legs.  They set it down, intent on armadillo removal, but it is not to be.  I may look like a dinosaur descendant.  I may spend my days digging and grubbing around in the dirt intent on finding food.  But, I am not that stupid.  The men set up their cage and toss dirt on the bottom of it to make me think I could dig my way out of it or dig down to find some juicy grubs.  But, I’m up and running.  They’re surprised at how fast I can move.

Rocks, pebbles and sand rush by as my tiny short legs move deceptively fast.  Every now and then, I hide behind a small bush, certain of its ability to hide my presence.  Then, I’m up and off and running again.  Darting this way, jumping straight up in the air, throwing myself that way at high speed.  The armadillo removal guys will never catch me, never.

As I run, my small brain considers why these two men would be after me.  I have done nothing wrong.  I only take care of my needs.  Food, shelter.  That’s it.  Yes, I have to dig, dig, dig for it all. That’s why I’m blessed with these fabulous shovels I call paws.  Sometimes I have to pull back the green grass to get at the yummy bugs just under the surface.  I dig, dig, dig until the bugs go scattering around in the daylight and then I snap them up.  Sometimes, I like to lie down in a cool spot, so I dig, dig, dig until I make a shallow depression just perfect for my armored body.

So, I suppose the reason I’m dealing with the threat of armadillo removal is someone doesn’t like me digging.  I can’t help it.  It’s what I do.  And, now, running is what I do.

I haven’t quite reached safety.  These small bushes don’t hide me for long, and I’m off and scrambling here and there, intent on freedom.  What I would give for soft, cool ground to dig in, lay down in, and feed in!  That armadillo cage won’t trap me!

Night is coming on, and soon they won’t be able to see me.  I’m not even certain they’re trying to chase me.  I stop and listen, and don’t hear their movements anymore.  I turn and look, but see nothing.  Is it possible that I’m safe?

I stop running, and slowly root around for a bit.  There, under those wooden stairs.  It’ll be cool and it’s a perfect place for bugs to feast upon.  My body bumps up against the steps as I amble into the cool safe spot.  Something smells delicious just over there, and I swear I can hear grubs moving around.  I walk over and start digging and “SNAP!”

Armadillo removal guys win this round.

Armadillo Problems

“What’s wrong, babe?  You look really tired – you ok?”

“No, not really.  I was dealing with armadillo problems all last night.”  I was grumpy after last night’s activities.  I couldn’t believe she was seriously asking me if I was okay.  Before we got married, I thought women were light sleepers, especially when they had children.  Kind of a protective instinct thing.  She had taught me that not only was I wrong, but I was apparently a little chauvinist.

“Armadillo problems?  Are you sure?”  I tried to give her credit for noticing I was tired and being concerned for me, but I was tired, frustrated, had a long day ahead of me, and couldn’t believe she was asking me if I was sure.  She must have read all that on my face, because she slipped over to my side of the bed and started rubbing my shoulders.  “Tell me what happened,” she said.

“Well, about two in the morning, I started hearing something scratching around under the floor.”

“In the crawlspace?” she asked.

“That’s right.  At least, that’s what I thought.  I tried to just ignore it, but it didn’t stop and I didn’t want the kids to wake up.”  The shoulder-rubbing stopped briefly.

“I’m not going to apologize for not waking up,” she said tersely.

“I know, hon, I’m not saying you should.  I’m just really tired, okay?”  The shoulder-rubbing started up again, and after a couple of seconds, I felt it was all right to go on with the story.

“So, I grabbed a flashlight and went outside to look around a bit in the crawl space.  Sure enough, it was an armadillo.  It looked like it was digging a pretty big hole right under our bedroom.  I about had a heart attack, too, because as soon as the light shone in its eyes, it jumped up and hit its head on the floor.  I thought it was going to attack me!”  I tried to ignore the stifled giggle from my wife.

“And, did this vicious armadillo actually attack you?  Are you hurt?”  she asked.

“Don’t make fun!  I said I almost had a heart attack.  It was the middle of the night and I was tired!  I know they don’t really attack, but I still don’t want that thing bumping around under there and digging holes all over the yard.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” she said.  “What’d you do, then?”

“I chased it.”

“You chased it?  Did you catch it?”

“Well, almost.”

“Almost?”

“Hey, those suckers can run pretty fast!”  I was a little defensive, remembering how stupid I must have looked running all over yard in the middle of the night.

“I’m sure they can.”

“And they hop!” I said, turning around to look at her.

“Oooh, they hop!  Well, then, you were lucky to get out alive.”  She was pretending to look really serious and concerned, and I couldn’t help but smile.

“Sure, go ahead and make fun of me all you want,” I said, laughing.  “Next time you go out and chase it!”

“I won’t have to,” she retorted, picking up the phone.  “I’ll just have a wildlife trapper come out and take care of our armadillo problem.  Then, you and I can get a good night’s sleep.  You know, without all the running and hopping.”