So, this afternoon I let the dogs out and after a few minutes they scratched at the door to be let back in. They often do this when it's cold; they're not wearing their winter coats yet.
I went into the spare bedroom to lay down and read with them for a while before I started my school work. Gertie was prancing about, ready to jump in bed and she'd brought a big toy with her. Gertie doesn't usually play with toys, so I was happy that she was feeling playful.
"What have you got?" I asked her. And then, for real, "What have you got?!?"
I didn't recognize that toy. And it was really big and gray. What the hell could it be?
"WHAT HAVE YOU GOT?????"
It was a huge dead dove.
I ushered her out of the house post haste, but she would not drop the dove. I offered her cheese and carrots; I screamed and yelled. Finally I had to go put on gloves and pry the bird out of her mouth.
I suppose I should be thankful. Years ago, the only other time she's done this, I came stumbling home from Lula's at 2 in the morning, never turned on the light, peeled off my clothes and crawled in bed. With a disembowled bird.
7 comments:
dude. ew. are they actually capable of taking down birds on their own, or do they opportunistically adopt dead birds that they found someplace? because my parents' beagle was worthless enough at catching things that stay on the ground; things that fly were totally out of the question.
Gert was a bird dog before I adopted her. This dog is so noisy and bumbling--she can't even breathe quietly. And yet, I've seen her turn her head very casually into a bush and come out with a bird in her mouth.
I don't know whether she gets the birds on her own or finds them...but I suspect that she does it on her own. Particularly because of the condition of today's offering.
Ewwwwwwwww! The horror!! Although the first incident sounds decidedly worse.
oh wow, and here I thought beagles were generally rabbit dogs (although, again, mine? tracked things BACKWARDS.) Gertie has mad skillz, even if they are kind of icky skillz.
Forget the doves crying, I think I would be crying.
Oh, the dovemanity!
Last year Moonpie caught a squirrel-- didn't kill it, only maimed it. (A very proud moment for The Pie, I imagine) It managed to crawl under the fence, where it must have been all night until we let the dogs out in the morning and they ran straight there barking and carrying on. I finally went outside to check what was the racket and there it was squealing and chirping. So at seven in the morning Howard scooped it back into our yard and shot it with rat shot. But it wouldn't die. Not until he chopped it's head off with a machete. Squirrels 1,507, Moonpie 1.
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