“A” bunch of grapes is all that’s left after the chickens
I’ve been to vineyards in Sonoma and on the Central Coast. I’ve seen chickens in them. Wandering around, scratching at the ground and doing chicken stuff. They ignore the grapes; couldn’t care less.
Apparently down here in San Diego the chickens didn’t get the message. After I let mine in the mini-vineyard to scratch around, the feathered monsters picked the grapes nearly clean.
Of a dozen vines loaded with grapes, I have a single bunch left.
They’re not getting this one. It’s mine.
Go ahead, leave a comment. I won't bite.