Advance of the armadillo
When it comes to meeting armadillos, Laurie Jackson discovers that they aren’t backwards in coming forwards.
I could hear the satisfied crunch as it crossed paths with an invertebrate.
I’d long known that armadillos are the only mammals that have shells. But what I didn’t know was how likely these supposedly shy, nocturnal creatures are to come out of them.
I was spending winter in Peru, as part of my work as a wildlife guide, and my visit included a stint in Manu National Park – a biodiversity mecca of more than 1.5 million hectares of mountain grasslands and cloud forests that tumble down towards the Amazon rainforest.
I wasn’t expecting the first armadillo encounter when it happened. It was after dark, and I was walking along a track close to Villa Carmen Biological Station, spotting toads and tree-snakes with my guide, José, when we heard a distinct rustling in the undergrowth. Pausing in our tracks, our torch beams caught a fleeting glimpse of a leathery-humped back trundling through the vegetation searching for food. I was thrilled – but this, it turned out, was just the warm-up act.
Early the following morning, José and I were walking another forest trail, enjoying the multitude of colourful bird life. With our eyes trained above, it was once again the sound of rustling that brought our gaze
back down to earth. Seconds later, an armadillo appeared. We stood rooted to the spot, careful not to move as the creature ploughed through the leaf litter, attention firmly fixed on the task at hand. It advanced towards us, offering a spectacular view of its scaled finery. Its frenetic snout probed under every leaf and stone, and it occasionally halted to dig with intent. I could see its long legs picking over the ground; its mottled tail, slightly aloft; its restless, periscopic ears; and could hear the satisfied crunch as it crossed paths with an invertebrate snack.
The armadillo had soon reached the leg of José’s tripod. After a thorough investigation, it appeared to conclude that there was nothing of interest. Then, veering suddenly right with single-minded focus, it bumped into my foot.
It gave what sounded like a semi-disgusted snort, clambered right over the obstacle and rustled off through the leaves, leaving a little, wet nose print on my boot and an ear-to-ear grin on my face.