The Local Squadron

Earlier this week we encountered a large group of javelinas on one of our local trails. They didn’t bother us; they were just nosing around, looking for food, and we looped around the group, giving them a wide berth before we returned to the trail. Yesterday I mentioned that close encounter with local wildlife to a friend at work, and it got us to wondering: what do you call a group of wild javelinas?

As we all know, humans have given different, often whimsical names to groups of different creatures. Multiple geese, for example, are called a “gaggle,” and for some reason a flock of crows is called a “murder.” A group of owls, evidently because they are wise-looking birds, is improbably called a “parliament.” Perhaps more fittingly, depending on your view of politics, a group of baboons is called a “congress.”

So, what could be the odd name for a herd of javelinas?

My work colleague thought that the group of javelinas, given their pig-like appearance, might be called a “sounder,” which is the name for a group of swine. He also noted that a group of feral pigs is called a “mob”– which incidentally is undoubtedly a heck of a lot more accurate than calling a flock of owls a “parliament.”  But according to the National Park Service, javelinas typically stick together in packs of six to nine individuals called a “squadron.”

So, we’ve got an official squadron patrolling the area. That’s useful information to know.

Holiday Javelinas

We had an up close and personal experience with the local band of javelinas yesterday. As we were taking a walk we spotted the pack of peccaries, which included a few junior javelinas, in the underbrush around one of the neighborhood drainage ditches. This fellow then emerged from a cluster of palo verde trees and prickly pear cacti, strolled casually over to a barrel cactus located right next to the entrance road, and used his snout to tear off and munch down the flower on top of the plant.

The javelina didn’t bother us, but also didn’t seem troubled to be in close proximity to us, either. He was about the size of a medium-sized dog, and the needles on the barrel cactus didn’t seem to faze him in his quest for javelina chow. I’ve read that javelinas tend to have poor eyesight, and I think there is truth in that–this fellow seemed startled when a car passed on the road, and may not have realized the road was right there, or that he was being watched by a group of walkers. When he heard the sound of the car, he retreated briefly, then strode back to the plant to finish his meal.

I’ve been wondering what happens to the blossoms you see from time to time on barrel cactus plants. Now I know.

The Marana Menagerie

Our rambles around the Marana countryside have introduced us to some of our animal and bird neighbors. We’ve seen roadrunners, hummingbirds, lots of other birds, tiny, darting lizards, and this alert rabbit who was out on one of the hiking trails. This looked to be a cottontail, rather than a jackrabbit, which is distinguished from cottontail rabbits by its larger size and large upright ears. I’ll have to keep my eyes open for jackrabbit encounters in the future.

Yesterday we also had our first javelina sighting. We were walking down a trail when I saw movement heading in the opposite direction. It was a dark gray javelina trotting past, just at the edge of the trail and oblivious to our presence–perhaps because javelina are believed to have very poor eyesight. The javelina was about the size of a Labrador Retriever, although a lot porkier, and had a distinctly pig-like, wild boar-type appearance, complete with some tusks on the lower jaw. It didn’t bother us and we didn’t bother it.

We can check the box on seeing a javelina, but there are still lots of other local species to go. The desert areas in and around Marana are home to rats, mice, many different kinds of lizards, scorpions, bats, snakes, and lots of birds, including woodpeckers and eagles. I’m looking forward to seeing some of those critters in the wild, too.