While our dog might not be able to make enough meals to live off the critters he so capably smells and unearths just about every pass around the pasture, he seems to have an unstoppable innate need to try to do so.
That’s not exactly right, because he digs up far more moles (insectivores like this one back in a winter we actually had snow) than rodents. And insectivores, well, they aren’t so tasty, apparently.
And it’s more about just acting out his Inner Wolf. He never eats his finds, only plays Wack-a-Mole and Mole Toss. He pretends they’re worthy adversaries, that he’s at risk of harm from their wee teeth and if he isn’t vigilant and wary and on full alert, he might not end up top dog.
I remembered the book about (and by) the fellow who (ostensibly) spent a winter in Canada living off mice just to prove to wildlife officials that wolves lived off mice over winter (as opposed to eating the caribou as had been supposed.)
His name was Farley Mowat. But as I rounded the pasture road with our wolf-ally Protector of the Realm on the Christmas Day, I remembered it was the opening day of a movie about a similar Yellow Lab: and so we shall hence rename our dog–