Looks like the Hillbilly Mansion is fast becoming the blog and homestead where wild animals go to die.
This evening, I stepped out on the porch to give Jack and Juno their evening snack, and saw special treats they had left for ME. Probably not Juno. Jack. Certainly not the cats. This group is too lazy to even get up and walk away when Jack humps them. Except for the one that hates him, and is worn down from growling 23 hours a day, and running for her life every time he is within sight. She would never have had time to kill two mice and deliver them to my door.
I tried to ignore the limp carcasses while snacking commenced. Then I went in to turn on the porch light, as the sun had already set. When I opened up the door and tried to get the first picture, Jack horned in. So I had to act like I was looking out in the yard so he would go to the steps and look that way. Then I took the picture:
Here's Jack, eagerly awaiting a picture. Of himself, I'm pretty sure. You can just see the dead mouse behind his butt:
On the other side, the mouse was closer. I got this picture when Jack was distractedly humping his favorite feline with benefits:
When Jack heard the camera "snick" of a taken picture, he got off the cat to come stand expectantly at my feet. But the cat's eyes say it all:
It's times like this I wish Farmer H was home. He'd pick up those dead mice by the tail, and fling them into the yard. I'm afraid to touch them. The Black Plague may run up my arm. I might try sweeping them off tomorrow.
I'm pretty sure Jack will bring them right back.