Last month I found Scout out in the back garden, quietly nuzzling a dead bird. Yesterday, I saw her fussing about at the foot of the far garden wall, but gave it little thought. Until I saw the big black lump in the middle of the closer patch of lawn a couple of hours later. WTF was that? It seems she had unearthed the carcass of a dead crow (Jeez those things are big) and had dragged in into the middle of the backyard.
This morning was garbage day, so I grabbed a large plastic bag, one of Uncle Ian’s many coal shovels, Marigolds (yellow rubber gloves), and a face mask (overkill? probs) and headed out. After much swearing and swerving on my part, and complete disinterest on hers, I got the corpse into the bin.
Why do they come to Uncle Ian’s to die? I’m starting to miss the dead seals from Orkney.