I Know About the Armadillo!

The armadillo has become a sort of Texas icon, but the truth is, the armadillo is not native to Texas. Armadillos migrated from Central America and only colonized Texas about 100 years ago. That’s right: Armadillos, the very image of Texas to millions of people, started out as illegal aliens.

Hardly anyone seems to know that, and so in Texas there are images of armadillos all over the place: in logos, on signs, and all kinds of stuffed toys. We love ‘em! But they weren’t always here.

Most people only became aware of armadillos when they started seeing them dead along the side of the road. Armadillos had to learn about cars and freeways the hard way.

I’ve heard that very poor people used to eat armadillos, but apparently that’s a bad idea. The rumors are that they decay exceptionally fast and are very likely to make you sick (a rumor probably started by the armadillos’ apparently quite talented public relations people).

Another nasty rumor about armadillos is that they carry leprosy. Apparently there is some truth in that, in some parts of the country at least. Armadillos kept spreading, you know, into Louisiana, where there was once a leper colony. Supposedly they picked up the infection there. (No, the leper colony long predates the advent of the armadillos, so you can’t blame it on them.)

With their armored carapace and vaguely prehistoric appearance, armadillos might not strike you as fast movers, but they are. They tend to be shy, but I have seen them in the wild. One day I walked up on some in the woods, while they were digging for grubs under a fallen tree.

The land had long been unused. We were out there to clear some trails and build a bridge over a ravine for a new nature preserve. So the armadillos were not used to people. They weren’t expecting anybody, and it was a darkly overcast day, so the light was about like twilight.

I got within about 20 feet of them before they realized I was there. Those were some startled armadillos! Believe it or not, they jumped straight up, over 2 feet in the air, and zipped into some underbrush about 50 feet away in the blink of an eye. (No, that’s not Texas exaggeration. If it were, I’d have said they jumped 3 feet in the air.)

So that brings me to the title of this post, “I know about the armadillo!.” It’s one of my favorite sayings.

It comes from a long-ago series of commercials for Lone Star beer in which a giant armadillo was running rampant in the countryside, ripping open beer trucks with its giant claws and drinking all the Lone Star.

It was a pretty funny series, but my favorite was the one where a middle-aged couple had made a beer run into town and were returning home with the trunk of their car full of beer. The woman starts to worry that they might have enough beer to be a target and reminds her husband about the giant armadillo. The husband replies in a very rude, snotty voice, “I know about the armadillo!”

You can guess what happens next. Yup, you hear this giant ripping noise, and then the woman’s indignant, sarcastic voice, “I know about the armadillo! I know about the armadillo!”

Well, now you do.