Hog limb from yesterday. For the morbid among us, if you look close at the joint, you can see some honking big maggots (double click on picture to enlarge).
And, oh joy, Harry brought home the other leg this morning.
A lovely closeup Harry's hog hoof.
If I knew how to put a thought bubble in the picture above Harry's head, you would see what I saw as Harry proudly carried his ham hock, "Mom's garden will be the perfect place to bury this!" Or, maybe the way Harry thinks, just a picture of the garden.
Yep, he's headin' in that direction. Just as he was about to slip under the fence, I yelled, "Harreee! NO!" He stopped and gave it some thought, then turned and headed for the mini forest.
I don't know if he changed his mind about the garden because I told him, "NO!" or because he didn't want me to see the actual burial. He's very secretive, in his big dopey way, about where he buries his loot.
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2 comments:
I have to wonder..who killed the hog in the first place? Those things are mean and I can't imagine a coyote or another big dog killing it..maybe a mountain lion?
It was probably shot by someone around here. Feral hogs tear up pastures and crops and reproduce fast, so if any farmer around here gets the opportunity, they'll shoot them.
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