Apparently I am supposed to defend my husband from vultures. I am also apparently very bad at doing so.
Yesterday my Mom called me to say there was a very, very dead something in her yard. She has 3.5 acres, and is in the middle of the country, so dead somethings could be anything from a rabbit to a groundhog to a bobcat to a deer. Disposal of dead somethings usually involves burying them in the woods that fringe her property.
By the time we got there, vultures had descended. 12 of them. HUGE vultures, who did not approve of us coming to take their snack. Still no clue what the dead something was, because they'd been at it for a good 30 minutes and 12 vultures can make short work of things in that time. I think perhaps it had been a groundhog. Whatever it was, it smelled like..well..a dead something that had been in the hot sun for a day, and had been partially eaten by vultures. The vultures retreated to the trees, where they stared down balefully at my husband, who told me to "guard him against the vultures". Which I scoffed at, because why would vultures want to eat my living, breathing, very large husband? He was also armed with a mattock for digging the hole to dispose of the dead something, while I had..nothing. I wandered away a short distance, and he said "WHERE ARE YOU GOING? Don't you see all the VULTURES in the TREES?? They're going to PECK me! Haven't you seen The Birds before??"
I pointed out that the Birds had seagulls, not vultures. That seemed to make no difference in his opinion that they were going to seek revenge on him for taking their evening snack.
He did eventually get the dead something buried, unmolested by vultures. He did however tell me I did a terrible job at defending him. Sigh. I guess I'll never be able to put "Vulture Slayer, Defender of Husbands" on my resume.