Judy, the lady living on the south twenty, had some trouble last week. The woman came home one afternoon and found a small snapping turtle in her kidney-shaped pool.
Judy did eventually get a net over the nasty little brute but senor snappo was so aggressive that the would-be rescuer lost her balance in the tussle. The leap from the diving board to the concrete was not a good one. Result: A badly sprained ankle.
A few weeks previous, Judy was compelled to perform the same rescue with a large armadillo. Now, a snapping turtle in a swimming pool makes much more sense than an armadillo in a swimming pool. These poor, dumb little beasties (above) seem to set new standards for stupidity. I am told that when a car approaches an armadillo on the road, the little things--instead of fleeing to the right or left--jump straight into the air. That tactic might work for some natural encounters, but not with a car. Whenever one enters the range of the armadillo, the roads and ditches are littered with the carcasses of the stupid little things.
Why did the chicken cross the road? To show the armadillo that it can be done.
Like Louisianans and their crawdads, some opportunistic Texans have apparently acquired a taste for armadillos, or "possum on the half shell", as they call them. Armadillo chili, Barbecue 'Dillo, Coon on the Rocks--which only proves that if something can be eaten, it will be eaten.
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Caricature of the Day
