The previous owners of the farm kept Scottish Highland cattle, so I wasn’t terribly surprised to find a horned skull hanging in the pole barn at the back of the lower field.  I don’t entirely understand the aesthetic appeal of displaying fragments of one’s deceased livestock, but I wasn’t surprised.

Then one day I looked up from splitting firewood, and I thought I saw another skull, considerably less old.

This one elevated my heart rate for a few minutes.  It also got me wondering if my time on the farm would be punctuated by a macabre game of Where’s Waldo.  I was slightly more prepared for the third discovery, but I’ll be just a little bit on edge until I’m sure I’ve looked carefully at all the trees.