Holy herd of herbivores! (I am besieged by hoofstock and a bit emotional about it.)
The Park Director had a couple boxes of skulls sitting around that he was never going to do anything with–They had been a gift from a friend’s facility a while back, but only two had their lower jaws and all but a couple were missing their skullcaps and horns or antlers, as they’d been taken for taxidermy purposes after the animals passed. They’re mostly craft-quality pieces, almost all of them unlabeled, and all in need of a good cleaning.
While loading up the truck to head into town this afternoon, he asked me if I wanted them. I enthusiastically told him that yes, as a matter of fact I did, and then proceeded to carry the warthog around for like thirty minutes while I tried to hash out where I would put all of these guys. I still have no idea, so they’re chilling on the porch for the time being.
Help me, fellow Vultures, I’m totally in love with every single one of my dirty, incomplete children.