Raw Fed Dogs. Almost.

On my other blog, I described the prairie dog village we were camped in last week.  No prairie dogs were harmed; they are way too fast for Cardigans.  Or at least our Cardigans.

Today while Tom was out shopping and I was finishing up the SOS Alarm property tax returns (when out on the lawn I heard such a clatter, I sprang from my seat to see what was the matter!)  the dogs caught a bird.  All four dogs had a large male brewer’s blackbird trapped against the ex-pen right by the RV door.  Huxley bested the girls and managed to trot proudly off with his prize.

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“Now what do I do with it?”

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“Whatcha got, Hux?  Wanna share?”

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“Mine.”

Through all of this, the female blackbird was sitting in a tree right over us, squawking incessantly.  Each time Huxley laid the bird down, he would lie still for a moment then try to get away.  Such excitement . . . leading to the inevitable dog squabble.   Picture a ball of three dogs turning over and around and over until you can’t tell who’s on top.  Meanwhile, wise old dog number four (uh, make that number one) carefully picked up the bird and headed to the RV door with it.  I know what she had planned.

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I managed to close the pen with Al and prize on the inside.  When the younger dogs noticed the bird was missing they quickly calmed down.  Alice actually gave me the bird when I asked for it (wonders never cease) and I was able to place it safely over the fence.

From the number of black feathers in the yard, I was pretty sure he was mortally injured but neither the bird nor its mate are still around so maybe he’ll be ok after all.

The dogs will only get their usual chicken thighs tonight.  No blackbird garnish.