Unfortunately nature joined forces with the humanity of my wife and kids to prevent a successful 8th barbecue season for me and my grill. On Monday of Memorial Day, I had marinated the pork. I had cut up my veggies. I had my grill potatoes prepped and ready to go. And when I opened the lid to my grill I ran into the wrong hungry mouths.
[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="374" caption="Oh sure, they start out looking like this."]
[/caption]I'm not the sort of man who would burn off a nestful of baby birds just so I could overcook some pork. I will totally admit to at least considering it, but since the family was outside, even if I had wanted to seriously consider it, it just wasn't in the cards. On the plus side, I had just scored a firepit the week before and had some wood in reserve, so I got to go all caveman on it and cook up a monster dinner on some open flames. Actually turned out pretty well. I was an Eagle Scout, dammit.
[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600" caption="But then they start eating all of our delicious horses."]
[/caption]The scorecard at the end of the day? A family of birds have a home for the summer. My sister will probably get an old/new grill at the end of the summer. And a little birdie told me I may be getting a grill upgrade for Father's Day.
