Hey, before we get started here, it is important that you understand this:
Some readers will find the content of the blog post to follow utterly revolting. Proceed with caution. And if you’re prone to revulsion, maybe don’t proceed at all.
In case the title didn’t tip you off, this is a first-person account of cleaning a coyote skull. To give you some idea what to expect, the first step was that I found a dead coyote by the side of the road. The last step was that I placed a handsome coyote skull on a shelf in my home. Below I will describe, explicitly, the sickening steps in between.
And there will be pictures. Horrible, horrible pictures. It will not be for people with weak stomachs.
Just so you know. We don’t want to see a bunch of comments from readers who blithely breezed past these admonitory paragraphs and then got all grossed out, OK? Consider this fair warning.
So if you’re still reading, I’m going to assume you know what you’re in for, and have braced yourself, and are not trying to eat beef stew while you look over this post. Alright?