The Heaper of Teeth

One finds strange things alone on the wold;
Rodent skulls arranged in spirals and figures of eight,

Low-growing trees tied from root to twig in colorfully died wool
And hung with trinkets of less identifiable origin,

And heaps of teeth, tall as a man or more, left to moulder darkly in the day,
And to glimmer yellowly at night.

One must then think to oneself, alone on the wold:
Something must be making these heaps...?
Something must be taking these teeth...?