It was our typical circuit--down the sylvan lane to the bog...through the bog-hemmed nature trail (a frequent spot for bunny sitings, and yesterday a snake...) and today, a brief stopover on one of the beach benches. (One assembled by myself, no less.)
It was one-third of the way up the heavily wooded beach road that something went plop five feet in front of us. And a rather heavy and sudden plop it was, from the treetops high above to the road at our feet. Freddi the hound took an instant interest though I instinctively pulled her back from that which had plopped.
It was breakfast. Not for us, and (sadly for her) not for Freddi, but that which lay sprawled before us was the scrawny legs and the carcass, roughly from the wings down, of a bird, stripped of feathers and skin.
I am not among those who like to examine such things too closely and diligently, but Jeff and I speculated as to what might have dropped a carcass on what would have been, five seconds later, our heads.
A further clue emerged another 15 feet up the hill. Bunches of white and gray feathers, pulled out in tufts, and a major wing bone still attached to a few. Clearly, much of the early damage had occurred here before the winner--it had to be a bird of prey--had flown the remainder into the treetops before deliberately or accidentally dropping half in our path. Sharing, I guess. We declined, with gratitude, but never caught a glimpse of the raptor.
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