Last night I went out on the front porch to give Jack and Juno their evening snack. They had some soft chicken bones (from the breast and attached rib meat pieces), stale Hawaiian bread, and expired tortilla chips, along with portions of tortilla that I had trimmed off my chicken wrap. Even Copper got a couple of slices of bread.
Jack was slow eating his portion. He's usually slower than Juno, due to his tiny mouth, but this time he was exceptionally slow. That's when I noticed that he was round as a butterball. The plate of food I gave him was not enough to bloat his belly like that. Jack's a gamer, though. He stayed until he ate every crumb, licked his paper plate, and even licked Juno's long-abandoned plate.
Here's a two-month-old photo where he's fairly svelte.
When I went back inside, I asked Farmer H, "Do you think Jack's been into something? It looks like he already stuffed himself on a full meal. Usually at this time of day, he's looking thin." Let the record show that Farmer H feeds them their dry dogfood at 6:00 a.m. Sometimes they eat it. Sometimes they nibble throughout the day. Sometimes it's still in the pan the next morning.
"Huh. They killed a possum. When we went over to work on the storage containers, it wasn't there. But when we came back over, it was laying out in the gravel. I guess they had it under one of the sheds."
"Just today? They killed it while you were out there?"
"Oh, it wasn't killed today! It stunk. We didn't see what it was until later."
"Hm. I guess maybe Jack ate a whole possum, then."
You never know. He's full of life, our Jacky Boy. And possibly full of death, too! For the two previous nights, the dogs had been going crazy barking in the area of Shackytown and the chicken pen. Jack is the only one who can fit under the shacks. So I suppose he's the killer, unless it was a team effort, and he drug the spoils under there to spoil.
There are probably some bones left for the others. Jack has trouble cracking them with his tiny jaws.