Turkeys, pheasants, songbirds. Warden figured the songbirds wouldn't be very good for eating, but pheasants? He'd have to explore that later. Could make for something delicious, probably. Maybe. He was pretty sure. His attention returned to his grandfather, forehead creasing in the middle.
Warden licked his nose, lifting it to the wind, trying to figure out which way the wind was blowing. Taking a moment to sort out which way, he finally spoke. "The wind is coming from that way, the north?" He didn't quite know for sure, but gestured to the direction he intended. Warden took a long moment to read the scent before sniffing at the ground instead. Taking a few steps in the direction of the scent, and then a few more. Taking a moment to triangulate as best he could. Though he was off by a number of yards, the boy was able to catch sight of fresh enough tracks in the soft earth. "There, some hoofprints," he dialed in, remembering what dad had taught them about not stepping on things that would make noise.
"This way smells like... fur. Fur and I think fresh poop?" Warden looked over his shoulder to Sirius, searching for approval, perhaps speaking a bit loudly for the current setting.
