One of the reasons I can have chickens is this guy. He, and the other four, keep the raccoons and possums and weasels and coyotes and other predators away.
The problem with him, and his mate and offspring, is that they can jump.
These are the two halves of the steer I slaughtered a week or so ago. Notice that the halves are looking a little ragged on the bottom? Today I found all of the dogs doing their best vertical leaps trying to eat the steer.
So we had a little talk about the order of eating on the farm, and their position in that order, and all was well again. I'll have to trim off a few pounds. The entire pack was unanimous in the opinion that the beef was tasty. I agree with them.
Oh well. Merry Christmas, dogs!