Armadillo's are nothing to play with; I was almost killed by one once. No lie.
My wife, daughter, and I had just moved to the country...both of us having grown up city folks, my wife in Shreveport, myself in Tallulah, LA. Not quite settled in the ways of country life, we were somewhat skiddish, to say the least.
One night, after we had gone to bed, I heard a noise coming from somewhere outside...and about just then the dog cut loose. Fully awake, I grabbed my trusty .45 off of the night stand (can't be too careful you know, out in the wild like we were) and I crept slowly toward the front of the house.
Whatever it was I could tell was in the garage...the dog seemed to have it bayed there. Here I was, never mind I was dressed only in a too small pair of boxer shorts, slowly creeping through the kitchen, ever so slowly with gun in hand, and easing to the kitchen door. I stood and listened for any human sounds that might tip me as to how many assailants I was about to face. I heard nothing but barking and growling from outside the door.
Ever so slowly, I opened the door and peeked out into the garage. Seeing nothing I ever so slowly opened the screen door, poked my head out and glanced around. Whatever it was, or WHO ever it was, couldn't be seen...just the dogs, growling and barking at something that had to be there.
With gun at the ready, I slowly stepped out side...and planted my foot firmly onto the back of a now overly excited armadillo.
Do you know just how fast an armadillo can move? Well, I can't give you an exact figure, but let me just say it's at least 10 times whatever it is you think it is...and he did.
I rode said armadillo for the full .08 seconds that seemed to be an eternity. It's an experience Disney only wishes it could capture, I assure you. Contrary to physical law, his mad dash forward also seemed to toss me well up into the air, spin me around, and deposit me upon my tiller, which I had stored out of the way there.
I was virtually impaled on top of the implement; feet now up by the handlebar, one arm neatly woven among the curves of the tines, with the spark plug firmly planted in my back! Worse than that, a hysterical wife!
Hysterical, not out of any fear of my eminent demise, or at least serious need for expert medical attention...no, just laughing hysterically at the sad sight laying there before her eyes. Ahhh, love! Ain't it grand...?
Anyway, It was two days before I could drag myself out of bed, and the better part of a week before I could return to work,...and I was stove up for at least a month or more...pierced back, cuts up the arm, several bruised ribs, a twisted spine, twisted ankle, skint knee (? go figure), ...and a damaged and almost irreparable ego.
I hate those dastardly creatures! I hate them, I hate them, I hate them... They look so..., so funny looking, yet they are deadly, I tell you. Deadly. - Al
P.S. Every last word of the above is true. When I've got more time I'll tell you about the big eyed monster that I found in my den...true story too!
Story contributed by Big Al's - My Dismal Swamp for Rex's Deer Camp Blog.
Many thanks Big Al! Marian