Posts Tagged ‘burying prey’
Buried Where?
Asher has been getting a lot of mentions lately, but I can’t skip telling this story just because I’ve already written about him so many other times. I think he pulled a fast one on us.
At the start of our walk yesterday morning, he suddenly took off in a sprint into the woods and grabbed some critter before we knew what was happening. I didn’t get a good look, but my best guess is that it was probably a young raccoon. Asher quickly ran out of sight with the limp body hanging in his mouth, ostensibly to bury it, per his natural inclination.
We hustled through the woods after him, but gave up without finding him and started making our way toward the barn to feed the horses. Then I spotted his orange scarf on the compost pile by the labyrinth. He was pushing the dirt with his nose and packing it securely.
That showed us where his catch was buried. We made a plan to come back later, without him, and dig it up to dispose of the body in the trash.
Cyndie had the first crack at it and came up empty. She asked me to check. I went through the whole pile and found nothing. It didn’t make any sense.
Why did we see him covering up something there, but found nothing when we checked a short time later? Cyndie said there was no evidence that the dirt had been disturbed after we watched Asher pack it down with his nose.
Was he putting on a show for us to make us think that’s where he buried it? That really seems like a stretch.
For the record, we have seen Asher bury a lot of bones and creatures he has captured over the years, but we have never seen him dig them up later. I once happened upon a bone that he had buried and offered it up to him like it was a prize. He immediately carried it away and re-buried it.
I don’t know what he did with his trophy, and at this point, I don’t want to know. I’ve resigned myself to the fact that Asher has instincts and knowledge of things to which I am entirely oblivious.
As long as he stays on our property and behaves respectfully with friends and visitors who stop by –sometimes with their own pets– I am comfortable giving him freedom to be a dog and do dog things without me entirely comprehending.
He will always have an edge over me, given that canine ability to pick up scents umpteen thousand times better than we can.
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Wrong Side
When we emerge from the woods to the pathway around the back pasture fence line first thing in the morning each day, it is common that we are met with a striking view of the morning sky or the fresh tracks of wildlife in the snow. The horses haven’t been traveling to the far reaches of the back pasture, so the surface is rarely disturbed, making for some beautiful winter scenes.
Yesterday morning, there was a lot of new evidence of mouse-sized critter activity in the snow.
They create fascinating veins just under the surface of the snow cover. When the air is double-digits below zero (F), I marvel that the little rodents are out and about. I suppose it speaks volumes for the insulating quality of snow.
Oftentimes, Asher ignores the obvious travel patterns as if they aren’t even there, while taking great pains to bury his nose into every hoof or paw print for a whiff of an animal’s signature. However, if there is a sound of movement under the surface, he stops on a dime, does that classic dog head tilt, and pounces on a spot.
We don’t currently have the electric fence turned on, so I didn’t fret over his intense exploration of whatever was going on beneath the blanket of snow around that post. While he was seriously occupied, I took advantage of trudging toward the barn without him, at my own pace. I’m usually working to move at double time to keep him in my line of sight.
In the time it took for him to catch up with me at the barn, I cleared my mind of what he had been up to, so it was a surprise (shouldn’t have been) when I noticed he had something in his mouth he wanted to bury. He displays a very recognizable body language when in bury-mode.
I guess there was a rodent by that post. Making our way through the barn, I opened the far door for him to hunt for a burial site. Knowing how long it takes him to decide, I figured I could leave him on his own while I tended to the horses. As soon as I distributed their feed buckets, I went to check on Asher.
There was no sign of him anywhere. I hustled down the driveway with my eyes scanning every direction. Having given a few initial shouted commands and whistle alerts, I studied the 360° of terrain silently as the sun began to appear.
In case his feet were getting cold, I returned to the house to see if he was waiting for me there. I resumed calling and used the tone and vibration on his e-collar for added encouragement. When I caught sight of him, it appeared he was responding to the signals to the best of his ability, but he was on the wrong side of the fence we had installed to teach him our property border.
Too bad there is no gate in that fence.
I had to walk a long way along that fence line, verbally commanding him to stay with me the whole way until we came to an open seam he could cross.
At least the critter wasn’t still clenched in his jaws by that time.
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Relative Something 