There’s an armadillo nosing around in my garden.

I hear he and his kin have been poking a nose in many of your gardens, too. It’s been banner year for armadillos. I’ve seen veritable herds of them messing around in the woods.

Most of us don’t mind armadillos until we are sharing a bed with them — a vegetable or rose or bulb or perennial bed, I mean, on those sleepless nights when the armadillos are thrashing about, and the dogs won’t stop barking, and you know when you get up in the morning you’re going to find your freshly emergent okra seeds raked up limp and lifeless as part of the armadillo’s proud little excavation project.