Thursday, September 13, 2012
My father made shelves of wood for us to put the pies on in the backseat. He was always so creative that way.
All went well until I got home.
We lived on an acerage with cats, dogs, chickens, oops chickens did I say? Yup the chickens were so spoiled they followed us every where like a dog.
I didn't pay attention to them when I drove into the driveway. They did as they always did; ran to the car 100mph.
I opened up the back door of the car and they swarmed in to attack the pies. You never heard such screaming and squawking in your life. I was so angry and so were they. I was not about to let them have the pies we had worked so hard to make.
I salvaged the majority of the pies. In fact all, but one. We had that one for supper that night.
I felt like the chickens had this all planned ahead of time, just waiting to attack when I got home it was so perfectly executed!