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the avra valley dispatch: 9 March 2004 -- Javelina
When I was a kid, there was a great band called the Pixies. I greatly enjoyed their music, and the leader of the band, Black Francis, would write strange and wonderful songs about things that you generally wouldn't expect to have songs written for.
I particularly liked a song called Havalina. It has a pretty little refrain that goes, "hava-leeeenaaah!" It was fun to sing when you just wanted to sing something and not have to worry about remembering the words, since the song has maybe a dozen words. I never stopped to think about what a havalina was. I'm not sure Black Francis did either, because if he had, he certainly would not have written such a beautiful little tune about ... a javelina.
Javelinas, or collared peccaries, are stinky, poopy nasty creatures that chomp chomp chomp and fart and leave boogies and snots and other smelly liquids on the outside of my screened-in Arizona room. They are barrel chested and portly, with prissy tiny feet and legs. They're blind and clumsy, relying on their noses (and hence, each other's awful stinkiness) to find their way about.
They have devoured my nopal trees and forced me to build a fortress for my trashcans otherwise they would devour them, too. I am careful about leaving anything remotely edible or enticing outside -- but the bathtub drains out into the side yard. Thinking of the birds and bunnies, I had constructed some pseudo-gabions to hold and then disperse the run-off from the shower. There is lush, munchable grass and the water makes an attractive gurgling sound as it pours over the small stones. The Boyfriend showers in the morning, and I shower before bed -- so the javelinas stop by twice daily for long draughts of eau de Molly and The Boyfriend and mouthfuls of greenery. Unless we stop bathing, I have a feeling they are here to stay.
It's a love/hate relationship we have with them: while they are annoying, and potentially hazardous -- enraged javelinas will charge, and gore you -- they are a sometimes a source of amusement and butt of mockery for us.
One morning three javelinas were moseying through the backyard. First one, then a second ducked and wiggled under the fence. The third javelina -- let's call him Porky -- ducked under the fence and wiggled ... and wiggled ... and wiggled. With perfect comic timing, Porky finally popped through the other side. Good thing, too -- javelina tushie-pushing was not on my agenda that morning.
Around the back and bedroom side of the house is The Klugey Porch. It's one of the charming "owner built" additions to my house that This Owner will un-build later this year. Recently the javelinas have taken up exploring the porch and they have found it most suitable for clog dancing in the middle of the night. Clompa clompa. Clompa clompa. Around the ell and back again. Clompa clompa. One evening a javelina took a face plant off the porch, landing three feet later with a satisfactory thud. I snuggled under the covers and chuckled.
Now, Greggery the Peccary ... yeah, I think Frank Zappa knew what he was writing about.
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