Monday, September 08, 2008

I'm a chicken hawk.

Why was I wandering around my back yard this morning at 6:44 AM, scouring the bushes looking for a chicken carcass?

The short answer is "because its easier then looking for a chicken carcass with flashlights in the dark but it's a longer story than that.

On Sunday, as is my habit after 1 PM Eagles games, I cooked a whole chicken on the rotisserie on our grill at home. I've made these before and they are usually fairly fool proof. (By the way, what is it rotisserie chickens and Eagles blow outs?, the last time I wrote about this, the Eagles blew out Lions).

Anyway, a little olive oil and garlic on the skin, put the meat on the stick, turn on the rotisserie and come back in an hour.

What could go wrong?

I should have read my own blog before making my chicken because then I would have tied the legs together and put tin foil on the legs.

When I checked an hour later the poor bird was black, Especially the little legs, where the tin foil should have been. My best guess is that oil caught fire because the meat beneath the skin looked fine. The chicken looked like a blackened cartoon chicken, the burnt kind.

I served it anyway and it was pretty good. It was moist and delicious.

Usually these things make a mess when you cut them so I decided to cut it and we would eat outside. It was a beautiful day and setting up was easy. I thought the clean up was going to be easy too.

Take Chicken, place in trash can with liner.


Well I forgot about Provo and Lone and later that evening I came outside and found the trashcan knocked over, a sure sign that two schnauzers where in there, looking for a little something after dinner.

"they" say chicken bones are bad for doggies. I'm not sure how dogs survived all these years, avoiding chicken because the bones might crack and splinter. I'm not sure if this is folklore or true but it seemed wise to check the doggies out and look for the chicken.

The dogs seemed fine but the chicken......

The chicken was missing. A burnt chicken carcass was gone. No grease stain near the scene of the crime, no bones, no chicken - no nothin'.

We turned the giant flood lights on and searched. Yes, two middle aged reasonable people were out on a beautiful night, searching for a chicken.

We were even asking the dogs. "Shad, where is the chicken?", like she was going to answer. We know she did it. She always is the one that goes in the trash.

We got flashlights out and searched for the chicken carcass to no avail. It was gone - without a trace. A team from CSI wouldn't have been able to find this. Usually when the doggies steal some food it shows up in one of two places in the yard and both of them were clean. Also, you would think that since there aretwo of them, that they would have fought over it, leaving chicken parts everywhere.

Not a trace. It's as if the doggies were magicians. It would not have surprised me at that point if Provo had pulled a quarter out from behind my ear.

It's now 24 hours and the chicken has not turned up.

It's a mystery.

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