If there is one thing Clint has never gotten used to with this farming thing, it's all the different kind of shit things in produce in the country; telling them apart is nuts.

Now what were those little fecal pearls - deer, bunny rabbit, or... must be that size-challenged pterodactyl thing Van Doom had sent after him a couple of weeks ago, only to have Lila fall in love with it, feed it hot dogs and name it Pete?

"Lila, honey," he hollers, "do try and keep your apex predator away from the chicken coop, 'mkay?"