No. Guts are just easier for them to tear off in larger hunks. Moreover, watching a leopard or lion eating rotting flesh should not give anyone a lot of confidence in an apex predator's culinary tastes. For that matter, ever notice what your dog happily chews?Liver and onions, done right, very good. If something wrong with animal then…. not so much. For whatever reason, heart was never very good to my taste. Other organs or tripe/menudo.. nah. However I believe hunger does change the palate.
What part of the prey animal do predators or alphas within a predator group commonly go after first? Internal organs. Some theorize because of the concentrated nutrients and fat.
I literally can not stay in the room if I smell liver cooking. Simply vile stuff.
Two hunting horror experiences though neither as bad as anything to do with liver.
Hunting red stag in Germany around 1978. Came in from a long day on the mountain, and the forester's spouse had a huge pot of a white cream soup simmering. It was well laced with finely chopped bits of protein. I gratefully ate a bowl, and then made my first mistake by asking for a second helping. All would have been well, but I made my second mistake as I picked up my spoon. I told her in my best German that it was excellent, and asked her what type of soup was it. The old forester (he looked a lot like a garden gnome) chuckled as she brightly replied, "Hirschgehirnsuppe." That translates as red stag brain soup. It was better than liver.
The second was in Mozambique. My son and I had traveled from the main camp over to Coutada 14 with our PH to hunt buffalo. The manager of the camp and his wife lived half the year on the very edge of that malarial swamp. Whether it was the constant droning of the mosquitos, or the chemicals and drugs they constantly had to take, both of them seemed only a short step from being mad as hatters. In any case, out came the first course. It too was a soup, but more of a fetid green color. As the bowl hit my plate, the odor coming off it was identical to that blast one gets on first opening a deer that was hit just a tad too far back. As I tentatively stirred it, a half-fist sized piece of something floated to the surface liberally equipped with various bits of valves, veins and other plumbing. Even my old Rhodesian light infantryman friend shoved his chair back from the table a bit. The next evening, at his insistence, we thankfully had chicken. I couldn't bring myself to try a spoonful (nor could my son or our PH), but I suspect even it was better than liver.