fundamentals of forensic pathology

(Yet another good reason to wear shoes whilst trapsing about The Puddle)

Seems the back stoop is always the scene of some slaughter, strewn with remnants of some murder or another: perhaps a chipmunk tail, the gallbladder of a shrew, the flight feathers of a jay. For these small indiscretions I blame The Cats.

The Canines are more industrious and have learned to drag larger carcasses from afar. Thick pig femurs, countless bovine vertebrae, the intact spine of a goat, clotted deer hides with attached skulls: all have appeared at some time, dragged from some corner of the wood or field, to be chewed, mauled and digested.

The yard (I hesitate to call it a lawn) is seasoned: with splintered bone, fragments of teeth, a dangle of sinew, an occasional fleck of dried blood. Clumps of animal spoor, thick with hair and undigestible bits, lie scattered as if this were the lair of hyenas or jackals.

I have become numbed to these scenes of death, hardened by the harsh realities of animal survival, as if I lived with wolves, as if I were Neanderthal.

On moonless nights the howling begins....