Upon learning I would be moving to Tucson, I immediately began to ponder the plethora of “exotic” desert wildlife that would surround me in my new home. Of course I knew I would need to stay wary of the usual desert suspects like rattlesnakes, scorpions, tarantula, etc. And, while I was simultaneously intrigued and terrified by my potential forthcoming encounters with these less than desirable creatures, I was still ignorant of perhaps the most surprising, unusual desert creature that awaited my arrival: the JAVELINA.
Now, if you are like me and not indigenous to the desert, then chances are you probably have never heard of a “javelina.[1]” According to the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum (which, I strongly recommend you visit if ever in Tucson):
“Javelina (Tayassu tajacu) also known as collared peccary, are medium-sized animals that look similar to a wild boar. They have mainly short coarse salt and pepper colored hair, short legs, and a pig-like nose. The hair around the neck/shoulder area is lighter in color giving it the look of a collar. Javelina have long, sharp canine teeth which protrude from the jaws about an inch.”
Not intrigued? As offered by the Desert Museum’s website, click below to hear a potpourri of Javelina sounds:
http://www.desertmuseum.org/books/audio/javlina_medley.mp3
Sexy, right? I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to share. Forget the Avett Brothers and Jack Johnson—I think I might write my next post to the lulling siren song of the grunting, snorting javelina. That’s bliss right there.
And, while the above description is helpful, I think it is important to still iron out a few details regarding these distinctive desert divas:
- Javelina stand about 2 feet tall and can weigh between 35 and 55 pounds. They are 3 to 4 feet long.
- Javelina are NOT pigs. They look similar, but pigs are from the “Old World” and peccary are “New World” animals. There are many other differences most having to do with differences in physical anatomy.[2]
I feel this is an important, defining “sticking point.” And, maybe it’s just me, but I can very clearly imagine an indignant javelina shouting from the rooftops as his fearless followers grunt in encouraging support: “I AM NOT A PIIIIIIGGGGGGG!”
I honestly don’t know why this image resonates with me so vividly, but it seems crucial in conveying the feisty character that is the javelina: they are unique—they are not pigs, dammit—and, consequently, they will not be done the disservice of being classified as such, thank you very much!
Whether this is actually probable/in character or not, I strangely find this creature admirably sassy and defiant. And, for some weird reason, I like it. There is even a children’s book that echoes my admiration of these jaunty pig-averse hipsters of the animal world. You go, javelinas: You do you.
So why, you might ask, am I sharing all of this information about javelinas? Well, in case the aforementioned facts didn’t similarly sell you on these majestic desert mammals, I should affirm that I’m slightly obsessed with javelinas. They are just so weird, so other… I can’t help myself!
In an unrelated, yet very related note, I’m fairly certain that if Miss Piggy met a Javelina Muppet she would instantly ditch Kermit and have a new beau to serve as her center of the universe. Miss Piggy— the pink pig— and Muppet javelina— the NOT pink NOT pig— strike me as having the propensity to be very compatible… Just saying.
Javelinas are the opossums or raccoons of the wild, wild west: If you leave your trash or recycling out on the curb the night before it is collected, javelinas WILL find you, and they WILL massacre your neatly piled refuse. I mean, who can blame them: Garbage is delicious! From experience, I warn you to take precautions: Javelinas will dine on your trash, and THEY ARE NOT ASHAMED.
Furthermore, I find myself continually running into javelinas around Tucson. Not literally of course— If I did, the fuzzy friends (who I only outweigh by about 2:1) would probably eat me as a nice pre-nap appetizer— but, still, I can’t help but feel they are following me. Well, upon reflection, maybe I also seek javelinas out and follow them, but that is beside the point…
For Christmas, I wanted to do something affordable, yet nice, for my “faculty friends” at school. Staying true to sacred Puszka Christmas tradition, I knew I wanted to make cutout sugar cookies, but, given the limited resources of our ACE house kitchen, my only “shape options” were the following:
-Hearts… Pretty sure it’s Christmas, not Valentine’s Day
-Huh? After trying to figure it out for five minutes, I’m still not sure what the heck this shape even is…
-Javelina… Aww! So cute! I could make this work…
Hence, my end product looked something like this:
That’s right: “Jave a Merry Christmas!” Despite the thickly laid on “cheese,” the cookies were a huge hit. Ten points to Gryffindor for creativity! I am eager to repeat this idea, but for some reason, I’m not sure the javelina Christmas cookies will carry the same cultural relevance and je ne sais quoi in the Midwest as they did here in Tucson…
Notably, because javelinas are largely nocturnal during the hotter times of the year, I find myself routinely trying to avoid them when I return home at night. Given our former neighborhood’s more desert-like landscape and proximity to wildlife, I saw more javelina last year than I do now. However, I have still seen a couple javelina in the front yard of our current house. These are always interesting circumstances to navigate while getting from car to house. Note to self: Don’t startle the javelinas. You don’t want to become dinner, Katie.
Similar to Simba, Timon, and Pumba from The Lion King, it is in situations like these that I find myself having a conversation (with myself…out loud) that goes something like this:
“What’s your plan for getting past those guys?”
“Live bait.”
“Good idea! Hey…!”
“Come on, [Katie], you have to create a diversion.”
“What do you want me to do, dress in drag and do the hula?”
Are you achin’? Hey, whatever works, right? I haven’t been charged yet! (Knock on wood.)
Ultimately, there is no definitive rhyme or reason for my obsession with javelinas. But that’s how obsessions typically run, right? While I don’t foresee myself adopting a pet javelina any time soon, I know that, even when I leave Tucson, javelinas will always hold a special place in my heart. And, despite the “pig” misnomer probably “getting old[3],” as far as I’m concerned the javelina’s status as badass peccary allows it the possibility to be whatever it wants…
Here’s to you, Javelina! “You can be a big pig too…UHH!”
[1] …Which my computer keeps trying to autocorrect to “javelin.” No, Mac, I am not the Trunchable from Matilda: Contrary to popular belief, I do want to type “javelina,” not “javelin.” If you don’t stop suggesting otherwise, I will promptly send you to the “chokey.”
[2] This is especially interesting when, upon conducting a simple Google search, I learned that a common nickname for javelinas is “skunk pig.” Interesting: Did not know that. However, this doesn’t seem to be doing much to help rethink the whole “um, NOT a pig” thing… Yeah, someone should really rethink that.
[3] I feel javelinas would bond with Mushu: Dragon! Dragon! Not lizard: I don’t do that tongue thing!
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