| A Word Edgewise by Mary Joe Clendenin |
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| A Word Edgewise by Mary Joe Clendenin |
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ARMADILLOS AT HOME IN TEXAS
Truly, they are not your soft, cuddly, sweet-looking, intelligent-acting, touchable little animals. I don't know of any school or sports group that call themselves Armadillos, but more and more when people see, hear or read about armadillos, they think Texas. Texas and armadillos go together like sugar and cream, like dust and track meets, like tumble weeds and stickers, like boots and hats. Maybe we should know more about our close associates other than recognizing them as the chief road-kills on our highways.
The armadillo looks as if he might have been thrown together from spare parts left over from turtles for the shell, rabbit, woodchuck, hogs and anteaters. The nine banded variety we have in Texas came from South American about 150 years ago, many as wet backs. Since he can either swim quite agilely or walk on the bottom of streams or lakes, the Rio Grande was no hindrance to him. By engulfing big amounts of air, he floats and swims. When he prefers walking, he expends most of the air to sink. An Armadillo can stay under water for a full six minutes, and may nibble a few aquatic bugs while strolling on the bottom.
Armadillos have great resistance to insecticides and herbicides which makes them very effective insect control animals. An adult will eat 200 pounds of insects in a year. With tongues like anteaters, which they are, armadillos like fire ants better than people like chocolate. Doesn't that make them almost pretty? We could overlook ugliness on most any creature with such welcome food preferences!
These armored animals with the smallest brain for their size of any wild animal, have a peculiar habit that may account for their tendency to be hit by cars. When threatened or startled, an armadillo jumps straight up in the air, three or four feet up. If he happens to be rooting for bugs or worms in some waste in the road and is surprised by an on-coming car, he jumps straight up, instead of darting out of the path.
You would imagine that such strange animals would have unusual reproductive habits, too. You would be right. The female produces only one egg per year. Mating occurs during the summer, but implanting the fertilized egg into the wall of the uterus where it develops is delayed until early winter. Normally, birth is in the spring. In fact, if the female is under stress, the egg may not be implanted until much later. Captured females, pregnant when captured, have delayed reproduction for two years, and then given birth.
The implanted egg splits and then splits again, so that the mother has four identical babies of the same sex. One year she may have four male babies and another time four females. In each case, the four are identical.
Armadillos have proven to be of great help in leprosy research, because they make suitable hosts for the bacillus that causes that old dreaded disease. Some researchers say that the creatures are living test tubes, and due to that a vaccine is now being developed for leprosy. From all indications the disease cannot be passed from animal to human beings.
During Depression years, armadillos were hunted for food. In rural areas in the '30s they were mockingly known as "Hoover hogs" or "Texas turkeys." I've eaten alligators and a few other strange things, but even with the elaborate recipe I found, I think I'll pass on the armadillo.
The recipes says, in part, that cleaning an armadillo is much like cleaning a turtle. (I remember mom and dad trying to clean a soft-shell turtle one time. That must have been a tough soft-shell. Before it was over they had the thing on newspaper on the kitchen floor trying to unlock the secrets. I think they threw out the turtle with the papers.) Nonetheless, when the animal is cleaned and the meat hunkered up, the work has just begun. First you marinate it in a sauce of salad oil, vinegar, water, salt and onion for 24 hours. Then you pour that off and drain. Next, place in glass container and cover with dry red wine for 6 to 8 hours. Drain. Brown with 1 pound of pork sausage. After adding many other seasonings and vegetables, simmer 1 hour. Then place in uncovered baking dish, cover with lemon slices and bake. By that time, any resemblance to armadillo should be gone. If you want the complete recipe, I'll be glad to oblige.
My brother-in-law, Bill Ham used to fuss at the armadillos all summer long, but he never threatened to eat them. He just wanted to shoot them because they kept him awake rooting for bugs and worms under the house. They would hit the house and grunt, causing great noises and disturbing his sleep. Then when he went out to shoot one with his 22, the animal could not be found. He had to hope for enough car traffic to do a little road kill.
Do you know why the chicken crossed the road? To show the armadillos it could be done.
Next time someone asks me where I'm from, I just might say "Armadillo Land." That would identify my place of abiding more quickly than a cowboy hat and a drawl.