On a chilly night in March 2012, a wiry, 56-year old man with a patchy beard trudged through a backyard in rural Iowa with his coat pulled tight, dragging something heavy behind him. He reached the fence and paused, scanning the darkness to confirm that he was alone. His gaze fell on the trailer home on the opposite side of the fence. The lights were on, and he could hear the young couple inside arguing. The sound made his jaw clench. He turned to the thing he’d been dragging – which was a days-old carcass that was starting to reek. Holding his breath and clenching a pack of zip-ties in his teeth, he lifted it against the fence post. He worked quickly, using the zip ties to string it up. And when the carcass was secure, he stepped back, shot a final look at the trailer, then turned to walk home.
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