The chickens like to eat dandelion greens and the minute delicacies that live in the roots. It's a cheap means of getting them their salad greens, so every once in a while I dig up the plentiful weeds from what is called a lawn, for lack of a better word. This evening Miro helped by putting his head in my line of sight everywhere I started wriggling the trowel into the hard-packed dirt.
Being Airedale-experienced, I know it is highly dangerous to let the dog get his head anywhere below yours when you bend over to tie shoes, pick something up, or weed. The Airedale head will inevitably pop up straight into your nose, chin, or eye; and you will go out the next day looking as if you have been in a fight. On me, it's not a particularly romantic look. As a result, every time Miro got between my head and the weed, I moved my head away and groped around, trying to dig up the dandelion without being able to see it. The chickens grumbled over the poor pickings.
Noting my apparent interest in dirt, Miro dug a few small holes; but I was not able to persuade him to dig up any dandelions. Probably I was just teaching him the joys of digging holes in the back yard, a lesson I'll pay for later.