Nebraskaland

46 Nebraskaland • August-September 2020 MIXED BAG If you really want to see some excitement, tell someone who is almost out of control to calm down. Oh sure. That should do it. But I'm getting to the point where I am about to do that, and what's more, it's a woman I am thinking of throwing cold water on. And you know what they say, "Hell hath no fury like a woman ..." Yeah, I know there's that other part about "scorned," but my long experience (twice married, three daughters) instructs me that you can pretty much stop at "Hell hath no fury like a woman ..." Another thing "they" say is not to mess with Mother Nature, but that is the very woman I am about to mix it up with. Thing is, I don't mind a little variety in my life, some change, a bit of adventure, but more and more I get the impression that there is a disturbance in the force. Some things, for example, seem to have disappeared. Whatever happened to magpies? Or hognose puff adders? I used to see them all the time here. On the other hand, I grew to be an old man thinking buzzards were creatures of northwestern Nebraska, but now they are regulars here, watching us from the village water tower and even trees in our own backyard. ("Keep moving and you'll be okay," Linda says.) I never saw a groundhog in my life until six or seven years ago, and now I have to kick them out of the way to get to the machine shed. Elk on the Platte? Wolves in Greeley County? I'm still trying to get used to talking about "lions down by the cabin." Lions? Nebraska? What next? Bears and tigers? Oh my. The only thing that surprises me anymore is that it's getting harder to be surprised. But sometimes I am. I was talking with my friend Jerl a few weeks ago, and he started, "I know this is hard to believe, but ...," and I knew I wasn't going to be surprised. What now? Piranha in the Missouri? Oh ... that's right — old story. They've been finding piranha in the Missouri for years now. Okay, Jerl, fire away. What is it now? "Last week I ran over an armadillo." An armadillo. Dasypus novemcinctus. Nine-banded hairy foot (obviously a term of endearment). The "little armored one," the translation of armadillo. OK, then I guess I am a little surprised. An armadillo. I had heard hints of such … perhaps a hoax, said the skeptics. Brought into Nebraska with a load of something from the south, was a possible explanation. The strange looking critters were at home in Nebraska near what is now Orchard 2-3 million years ago, as described by my old friend and colleague Mike Voorhies in his scholarly paper "Fossil Armadillos in Nebraska: The Northernmost Record." But rumors and reports, prehistoric remains and prank releases have gradually gained credence as reports snowballed. Jerl told me that when he reported his sighting to some Merrick County barflies, they were understandably doubtful (especially in a tavern, especially from Jerl), so he dragged his friends to the site where he had run over the animal and showed them the carcass. And there it was. Dead. An armadillo. (Worth noting is the curious — and fatal — habit of the armadillo of leaping straight up 2-3 feet when startled, which would seem counterintuitive when one finds oneself under a pickup truck speeding along down a country road. I hope Jerl and his pals didn't conduct a close examination of the corpse since armadillos are carriers of, gulp, leprosy.) Then a Lincoln newspaper had a front page story and photo showing an armadillo running down O Street. Another friend reported one north of Grand Island. And another, and then another. Fake news? Big Foot? Swamp gas? Moonshine? Well, you might think so but then came a report from a friend who looked out her window to find a bizarre, scaly beastie burrowing and digging up her backyard. No one has sighted Big Foot stealing turnips out of a vegetable garden. Swamp gas doesn't tear up a lawn. Nope, it was an armadillo. They are among us. I'm now beginning to have visions of these curiosities becoming regulars. I can hear Linda now, calling from the kitchen, "Hey, Rog! Come here and look at this. Something strange is digging up the backyard!" Oh great. Something else to worry about in Nebraska. Thanks, Mother Nature. Sorry I brought it up. And oh … by the way … https://bit.ly/38Wxybw. NINE-BANDED HAIRY FOOT? WHAT'S NEXT? SCORPIONS? By Roger Welsch

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