Deep in the heart of Bernheim Forest and Arboretum about 25 miles south of Louisville, birds’ songs carried in the wind as leaves rustled across the ground. Natural areas manager Evan Patrick pushed branches aside to clear a path in the secluded woodlands.
“I believe it was now three years ago, we were out in that section of the forest, and we were kind of scouting around looking for some potential camera trapping sites for golden eagles,” he said. “And we found this really pronounced sinkhole on top of this ridge line.”
Typically, these sinkholes are fit for mammals like raccoons, moles and — sometimes — bobcats or coyotes, so Patrick and his team installed a camera nearby.
In June 2024, they found something peculiar.
“We were really pleasantly surprised this time to see a nine-banded armadillo out there,” Patrick said.
Though they’re used to warmer regions to the south, climate change is playing a role in how far these little creatures travel.
Finding new homes in a warming world
The 2024 sighting was the first time a nine-banded armadillo was spotted alive in Bernheim. A hiker and their dog discovered a dead one in 2023, likely after it was hit by a car.
“Apparently, [armadillos] are quite private,” Patrick said. “They spend most of their time in that sinkhole, and what we have seen is that they're really only active in the summertime.”
This species is about the size of a large cat. They can’t store enough fat in their tiny bodies to hibernate in the cold, so they are constantly on the move looking for warmer areas.
They’re largely found in hotspots like the Deep South, Mexico and South America. But since 1970, average temperatures in Kentucky have increased by nearly 3 degrees, with 2024 being one of the hottest years on record. This rise has brought armadillos farther north to the commonwealth and surrounding states like Tennessee, Indiana and Ohio.
“Someone didn't pick up an armadillo and bring it to Bernheim and drop it off here,” Patrick said. “They didn't cross an ocean to get here. They are naturally expanding their range based on climate changes.”
Though they’re reaching new parts of the country, Patrick said armadillos aren’t considered an invasive species.
“There is some evidence that armadillos will utilize burrows of other species, or other species will use armadillo burrows,” he said. “But they're not displacing species like coyote and fox by utilizing their dens. The other part of this is that they're not reproducing in the way that you would expect to see an invasive species.”
Armadillos give birth to exactly four pups every reproductive cycle. And Patrick said Bernheim offers ideal conditions for them: soft dirt for their long claws to dig burrows and a plentiful bug buffet.
The typical selection is cave beetles, crickets and roly-polys, though they will sometimes eat animal eggs if no other food is available.
A big, blind journey
Courtney Hayes, a wildlife biologist with the Kentucky Department of Fish and Wildlife, said nine-banded armadillo sightings in the commonwealth started in 1986, in LaRue County. They’ve since reached at least 63 of the state’s 120 counties.
“It's spread from the east to western edge of Kentucky, almost all the way up to the northern border,” Hayes said.
Armadillos have not made their way to the Appalachian Mountains yet, and Hayes said wildlife experts are still trying to piece together why.
“Maybe they can't survive up in these high elevations, where it gets too cold,” she said.
Interstates have allowed armadillos to travel much farther north than they should, sometimes by hitchhiking on vehicles unbeknownst to drivers. But crossing those highways is also one of their most dangerous man-made threats.
The thick, boned plates that make up their outer shell could protect them, but Hayes explained that when this species gets frightened, they don’t curl up in a ball like their smaller three-banded cousins in South America.
“What these nine-bounded armadillos do that's really interesting but unfortunate for them is, when they get spooked, they can jump up to four feet up in the air, and they make this little ‘whoop’ sound,” she said.
Armadillos aren't walking into traffic on purpose, Hayes added.
“They cannot see well at all, like daytime [or] nighttime,” she said. “They really rely on their sense of smell.”
When they find the good soil they’re looking for, they’ll create burrows that other animals like skunks and possums can use in the future. And these blind journeys across the U.S. could lead them to a neighborhood near you.
“They can also cause a little bit of damage by digging, so people don't frequently like finding them in their yards,” Hayes said. “You can obviously do things to discourage them from being around — close off your deck, don't leave big brush piles for them to kind of root around in and find food.”
Armadillos do carry leprosy, but Hayes said it’s little cause for concern. About 225 people in the U.S. are diagnosed with leprosy every year, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.
“I use this advice for any wildlife: Don't go licking it. That will save you from leprosy,” Hayes said. “And also, just don't touch them. There's no need. If you do, don't put your hands in your mouth, on your face. Go wash your hands. You're going to be okay.”
She said it’s best to keep an eye out for our little neighbors, because they don’t know where they’ll end up as they explore new frontiers in a warming climate.
This story is part of our Signal Species series exploring how the region's flora and fauna are adapting to a changing climate. It was produced by the Appalachia + Mid-South Newsroom, a collaboration between West Virginia Public Broadcasting, WPLN and WUOT in Tennessee, LPM, WEKU, WKMS and WKU Public Radio in Kentucky, and NPR. Sign up for the weekly Porch Light newsletter here for news from around the region.
