Another morbid post. You'll thank me for not including photos.
As we were leaving this afternoon I noticed something red in the driveway. I stopped and got out to investigate. At first I thought it was another part of our flock. Nope. This one had teeth. I stood there in the driveway until The Man drove down the driveway (we were going the same place, but had to drive separately since he had other appointments later). I wanted to make sure he saw it also. He likes those sort of things. When we reached our destination I asked if it was from a deer. With mountain lions practically living in our backyard it is not uncommon to find dead deer and other parts on the property. He thought so, given the teeth that were still present, but he will investigate it more thoroughly later.
Does it bother anyone that I can look at a small piece of bloody skull and know that it was from a deer? Yeah, me too.
After losing more chickens than I can count, various other pets, all the wild things The Dog has dragged home, the dead skunk M dragged in from the field (which started the rule that all dead things or parts of dead things must be kept in the shed), and our found-in-the-barn owl pellet dissections (Do not, DO NOT, get them wet no matter what the instructions from the internet say unless your smell-gag reflex is under control) I suppose I'm not as disgusted by disgusting things anymore. But I'm still glad that M takes care of the mousetraps in the garage.