Poached

Normally I have three of the four animals at my heels when I head to the kitchen first thing in the morning, one of the dogs and both noisy cats. Instead of wanting breakfast, Jessie wants outside. On Monday however, Rowdy the dog wasn't the least interested in his kibble or more surprisingly treats, and later Jessie ate only a few pieces of her chow. I watched them both closely that day for signs of illness, and in the afternoon took them for a short walk, where they showed no signs of  lack of energy. Our vet Hans is recovering from a burst appendix, so I was really hoping neither of the dogs were sick.

Tuesday morning they didn't eat much more, so it was obvious they were getting fed elsewhere. Howard had to go into town, and at the halfway point of our driveway looked downhill to see a deer carcass. I walked out and brought what was left of the doe, head and attached hide, back to the garage. Although I'd seen bobcat tracks the week before, this didn't look like an animal kill to me, and later Howard had a look and figured it was killed by an arrow and then skinned with a dull knife. We've had to deal with dumped deer remains before, and somewhat expect them during hunting season, but this isn't hunting season. If there's a good thing about this incident, it's that the deer wasn't killed and left to rot - the meat was taken.

I noticed yesterday that one of the buck deer looking for seeds spilled out of the bird feeder, is now sporting only one antler. We'll have to be on the lookout for the one he dropped.