As a follow up to my recent post about packs of javelina ravaging a fancy golf course in Sedona, Arizona, I am sharing this brilliant article that Stan Engle, a kind member of the Boing Boing Boards, put on my radar. Written by "A. Javelina," it's titled "I ate all your precious golf worms and I'd do it again."
It starts out like this:
Oh, is your precious grass all torn up? Your bluegrass/rye mixture, so uniform, so manicured, now a heaping pile of unsightly dirt after I got my tusks and snout in there to get at some delicious, delicious earthworms? Are you going to cry about it?
Go ahead and whine about it to the state government. See what they do! I'll just lie here in the shade, digesting those juicy worms and thinking about my next meal: I think I smelled a bunch of grubs under that creeping bentgrass you call the 16th green. I'm gonna invite even more of my friends over next time.
Javelinas don't belong on golf courses? Buddy, your golf course doesn't belong in javelina country. I was here first. I'm a javelina, also known as a peccary or, colloquially, a New World pig. That last one is a clue to how long we've been here: I'm not actually a pig. We're the Western Hemisphere's closest relatives to swine, which means we split off from them and settled here while you were still a monkey in a tree—apes didn't even exist yet, let alone "Arizona."
This landscape was a porcine paradise. Seeds and berries, roots and vines, and bugs! So many bugs, more bugs than you could shake a hoof at. A veritable ungulate eden, a green and wet valley oasis in the middle of the unforgiving desert. We were happy here, and well-fed. And then you had to go and evolve and cross the Bering Land Bridge and invent civilization and irrigation and build the Seven Canyons private golf club in Sedona. Look what this used to be like before you ruined it for us!
Read the rest of this hilarious kick-ass piece here. And, GO JAVELINA, GO!
