Warning: Everything Wants to Kill You (Even the Pig)

Listen, I expected some hazards. Rattlesnakes? Sure. Scorpions? Fine. Coyotes? I mean, I don’t love it, but okay. But what I did not expect—what no one prepared me for—was the absolute chaos of warning signs I’ve been passing.

Let’s start with the flood warnings.

Now, you may be wondering, “Leisa, isn’t the desert famously dry?” Yes. Yes, it is. And yet, I have now walked past multiple signs warning me about flash floods. Because apparently, the desert doesn’t do moderation. It doesn’t rain often, but when it does, it comes for you. Monsoon style. The signs are basically saying, Hey, see that dry creek bed? Yeah, that could become a raging death river in about thirty seconds. Good luck!

Then there are the animal danger signs.

I’ve seen so many snake warnings that I’m starting to wonder if the rattlesnakes have a dedicated marketing department. “Caution: Venomous Snakes” Oh, you don’t say? “Do Not Approach Rattlesnakes” Well, there go my weekend plans! At this point, I half expect a sign that just says “Yeah, We Got Snakes” with an arrow pointing in every direction.

But the best—the absolute peak of desert chaos—was when I walked past a sign that read “Tarantula Crossing.”

Excuse me???

I stopped in my tracks. Because here’s the thing: why does that need a sign?

I turned to stare at the empty desert road as if a group of tarantulas might be waiting at a tiny crosswalk with little briefcases, ready to scuttle to work.

A tarantula crossing. Not a deer crossing, not an elk crossing—TARANTULAS.

I had so many questions.
• Are they aware they have a designated crossing?
• Do they use it?
• Is there a tarantula traffic officer enforcing pedestrian laws?
• Most importantly, WHY ARE THERE ENOUGH TARANTULAS TO WARRANT A SIGN?

I have yet to see one actually crossing, but I know they’re out there. Watching.

I kept walking.

But nothing, and I mean nothing, prepared me for the pig. That’s right. The desert has pigs. And not just any pigs—Javelinas.

Now, I’ll be honest with you. The first time I saw the Javelina warning sign, my brain did not process it correctly. I thought, Oh look, a little piggy. Adorable! No. Wrong. These are not the kind of pigs you see in children’s books. These are wild, angry, desert pigs with tusks and an attitude problem.

So there I am, walking along, still processing the idea that a pig has now joined the list of animals that might try to murder me, when I hear rustling in the bushes. I freeze. In a moment of panic, I’m running through my mental database of wilderness survival knowledge, which, unfortunately, has nothing on how to deal with an angry desert pig.

Do I make myself big? No, that’s for bears. Do I run? No, that’s for mountain lions. Do I try to reason with it? “Sir, please, I’m just passing through!”

I exhale. It was just a rabbit. I live to see another day!