Guts

I found another mutilation on top of Chair 1. This time it was...chunkier.

Blood but no guts (thankfully)

I started my day at work at Chair 3, and upon climbing to the top I found myself surrounded by dried blood, tufts of fur, and piles of feces. I can only guess that an owl deemed the guard-stand to be an ideal place for its nocturnal nibblings, which as an abstract idea has a decided appeal to guy who did his fifth-grade animal report on great-horned owls. The reality, however, was quite a different thing, especially for a guy who passed on every science-class dissection except (ironically) the owl pellet. Shredded remains or not, I'm glad to be working in the middle of a nature reserve. Of course, getting to watch a mother duck leading her seven ducklings across the pond a few nights a week certainly helps to offset the occasional unpleasantness.