Wow, bringing down flying pigeons. That's ambitious and very athletic. This morning, there he was, snuffling away at the bottom of the garden. Second bird, same species. This one had been dead for a while though not stiff, but it's (turn away those of you who are squeamish) it's, eyes were gone. I think it must have died the same time as the other one. Maybe Fraser didn't do it, though if it was a wild creature, why wasn't the bird eaten? He might be my sweet innocent after all, though when he's upside down in my lap and his big white canines are on display, I'm reminded that inside this silly, happy pup is a wolf.