Scout confronts a monster!

The weather forecast was for late night storms followed by a full day of rain and there was mowing to be done. If I waited for the rain, the pasture would require at least a couple of days to dry and the lawn would demand more time than I could afford to rake the clippings. It was a narrow window, but if I used the farm tractor for the large open areas, then hit the tight areas with the lawn mower, I could accomplish the task before nightfall. It was a good plan, and I take immense pleasure in riding the tractor at dusk.

It was about 7:15 PM: I had just left the pasture and was headed for the expanse of lawn toward the back field when Scout, the now-13- month- old Jack Russell darted by with something large in her mouth. Scout lost her brother, Doolittle, last fall to an uncontrollable desire to chase vehicles. Since then, she has relied heavily on the companionship of Buddy, the golden-haired sage of all that is grand and glorious regarding farm life.

Buddy, despite his bowed legs and a protruding lower jaw, is the quintessential hunter, but Scout, not so much. He allows her to observe, and I have witnessed her practicing with some success on butterflies, moths and lesser flying objects. It was not a total surprise to discover that the large object proudly held between her teeth was a bird, of the Woodcock variety.

Thinking first that it was originally Buddy’s catch, as he has allowed some sharing of the victims but only after they are in a thoroughly disgusting condition, but Buddy was uninterested. Buddy really isn’t agile enough to capture butterflies and birds. No, this had to be Scout’s first supreme success story.

Scout is fond of burying her treasures – little dog treats tucked into hidey holes throughout the house- the bird quickly disappeared. I bemoaned the death of the creature, but found balance in the flow of nature. It was now backed to the task at hand.

About 45 minutes later and while proceeding to make the switch to the lawn mower, my attention was diverted again by some really weird noises, sort of a mixture of growling and barking. Following the direction of the sounds, I found Buddy lying innocently under the day lilies and not the source of my concern.

Louder and more pronounced the racket emanated from a corner of the yard thickly covered with English Ivy. The tent –like VanHoutte Spirea and Forsythia bushes rising seven feet above the ground cover kept the activities hidden from view. The commotion was becoming more agitated, and I was becoming extremely nervous.

Timidly pulling back the branches of the bush, I discovered Scout in hot pursuit of some unfortunate critter. Movement in the undergrowth was clear, but the object of her attention was not visible. A multitude of undesirables could have been residing in the thick ivy; had she gotten in over head and was literally attempting to bite off more than she could chew?

My little Scout, the innocent puppy, had found a new identity: fierce, determined, brave and the ever savvy hunter. The tension was mounting and she would not be called off; it was paramount that I figure out what was being victimized before she was injured.

Final resolution:
I sequestered Scout in the house to insure the successful escape of the baby box turtle.

Until next time, be well. (see pic below)