Did It Taste Like Chicken ....?

 I really have no answer to this one. I swear to god. This is the fuckedest thing I've ever come across. I imagine I'll take this one to the grave.

 Let me just point out that I really do live in isolation. I'm at the end of a one way track. Six 'visitors' a year here would be exceptional. That would only be people approaching my gate though. 

 As it happens, I did have some Tree Surgeon guys down here, about a month ago. They dropped some of the Sitka Spruce trees in Pat's fenced in stand, across the way from here. But that was a month ago and they just came and went.

 I mention that specifically because it's that sitka stand I'm going to talk about. I'd also just mention that I've had extremely extensive experience of playing detectives with some pretty hectic stuff, in the countryside. I'm used to it. But, this ....?


 I'm down there then, this afters, inside this fenced in enclosure of spruce. I'm looking for birds nests and Orange Dog is tagging along behind me. Innocently sniffing about and seeing what's to see. 

 Not that much, to my mind. Goldcrest was still tight on her nest. That's nice. Then, even as I tried to lead Orange Dog through the easiest path back to my new style, I was tapping the rushes and shit and out came a Willow Warbler!

 Fantastic! I shoved my stick in the ground, marking where she pretty much came out from, and started searching. But, I soon realised I was as likely to tread on the nest as find it. I'd need to flush her again, tomorrow. And what the fuck was The Orange Dog up to now ....? 

 Sausage was stopped, a few yards away. She had her face buried in the ground cover and appeared, for all the world, to be eating the ground! I wondered if she'd found some nest and was scarfing down the contents ....! Fuck, No!!!

  Called her, and she ignored me. Went over there and told her to get her face out. She still pretty much ignored me. She was definitely biting at something beneath the surface level.

 I looked and could see an area of creamy coloured something. Six inches by one? Pretty obviously a tree root then. But, why was she so manically biting at it?

 I got my fingers in there and raked at it with my nails. This didn't feel like any fucking tree root! It was softer. But firm. Yet yielding to my nails. Fleshy .....

 Some sort of fungus? Better get The Sausage out of here then. No telling What she might be eating, if it's a fungus. Then, having done it so often, through the decades it's now part of my automatic testing for strange shit; I sniffed my finger tips .....

 Clean, fresh, roast chicken!!! It smelled like fucking chicken! Not month old. Buried in the ground. Tree Feller didn't want That in his sandwiches Again. Now Orange Dog's dug up what he buried amongst these trees no cunt ever goes near ....?

 No. This smelled just like the fresh chicken sandwiches I'd had to eat, hours ago, in town. And I'd washed my hands several times since eating those. And fresh, cooked chicken smells a world away from rotting chicken. I know about these things ....!

 Going back tomorrow. Find that Willow Warblers nest. We'll ring the young, in due course. Really not sure I even want to go poking around with what ever Orange Dog found though. Fucking freaky!