Quoth the Raven, nevermore

An anonymous ferocious creature left half a ringtail possum on the backyard lawn a while back (well, I say "half a possum" - there was a head, a tail, some bits and a lot of fur). I buried it and waited for the worms and microbes to do their thing, then couldn't find the bones when I dug up the burial site. Why was I looking for them? I want the bones for an art thingummy that's percolating in the back of my mind.

Lo, a couple of weeks later, dried off and bleached by the sun, the little beauty above caught The Bloke's eye. It even has tiny teeth still embedded in the jaw. I find bones fascinating, though many tell me I'm morbid. So be it!


While cycling past, The Bloke spotted the unfortunate raven above on the side of the highway. We made a dusk trip to collect the body (I balked at the last moment and made him pick it up in the plastic bag) and now the birdy is in the side yard also waiting for nature to reduce it to its
constitutent parts so I can have a raven skull and hopefully some other bones. I didn't bury this corpse because birds have such delicate bones that they break down very fast - above the earth I can monitor its progress. Yes, it was kinda stinky for a few days, but the smell has pretty much disappeared now.

We improvised a charming song for the occasion:
"Some enchanted evening you will meet a raven
You will meet a raven stinking up the road
Scrape him off the highway, take him home to finish..."

I'm so highbrow.