I looked to the hills and looked into arroyos. Checked along roadways and paths and gullies. Peered through telescopes and binoculars and sunglasses.
I was searching for the elusive javelina, a wild pig – or technically a peccary – native to Arizona, where it survives in harsh desert conditions by munching on prickly pear cacti, small animals and the occasional ignorant tourist.
And tourist I was for the past two weeks. Editors at the WP are allowed to take brief holidays, unlike many farmers, so consider this a vicarious vacation. With interests in newspapers and agriculture, I examined a bit of both, but I was determined to spot a javelina on my desert travels.
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I obsessively searched the landscapes on either side of Interstate 19 as we headed for Tubac, where Arizona’s oldest newspaper, The Weekly Arizonian, was founded in 1859. Not surprisingly, the editor ran into a dispute about content mere months after establishing the paper.
Small world.
According to data posted for the benefit of tourists, editor Edward Cross ran afoul of citizen Sylvester Mowry over the latter’s pressure to falsify state population figures. The dispute became so heated that one challenged the other to a dual.
With rifles at 40 paces, “the first two shots went wild with no injuries. Cross’ rifle malfunctioned on the third shot, and he stood awaiting certain death.
“Mowry declared that no southern gentleman would shoot an unarmed man. He fired in the air and said he was satisfied. The two principals then bought a 42-gallon keg of whisky and treated the town.”
What a relief that this method of conflict resolution didn’t catch on in the newspaper business, I mused, as I squinted through desert dust hoping to see a javelina or two.
The critters are apparently fairly common in the various national parks around southern Arizona. In the slim shadows of the saguaros, a barrel cactus can look like a javelina to the unschooled eye. Jumping cholla, which snag on any passer-by, can be a prickly distraction for those searching under mesquite, ocotillo and hedgehog cactus for peccary-like scat.
In desperation, I resorted to firing errant golf shots into the scrubby, rattlesnake-infested rough, just so I could look for javelinas while retrieving a ball.
But vacation time grew short and this mission impossible grew frustrating. Clearly the canny beasts were experts at camouflage. I reported my failure in an e-mail back to the office.
Then I turned from my computer to find … a javelina standing on the patio of our abode. He squinted curiously at two slack-jawed humans, left some nose prints on the patio doors and absently scratched his rump on a nearby post before ambling away.
Mission accomplished.
