Since we moved into a house with a yard, John Henry has discovered a hitherto dormant territorial side to his personality. Sure, he guards us from UPS drivers, trash trucks, and joggers – the usual suburban threats – but the danger he works hardest to protect us against is the threat from the air.
His no-fly zone, which covers the air space all across the back yard, is rigidly enforced. Even against threats that you and I – with our pesky human senses – may not be able to perceive.
