OK, so the whole chicken killin' livin' off the land thing went without a hitch until it came time to do the actual cooking. Gary said, "I'll make a fire pit and cook him in the camp oven, I've done it before." I will spare you the photos of Gary building a fire pit in the back yard completely naked except for his work boots (it was a very hot afternoon). He put the camp oven with the chook in the fire, covered it in coals, and said it would be ready in an hour, but after fifteen minutes we looked at each other and said, "Can you smell something burning?" When we went out to check the pot, the fire pit was so intense that we had to defend ourselves with towels to even get near it, and when we managed to get the lid free from the raging inferno, the chook was a small black smoking lump. The drumsticks were just sticks. I was in fits of laughter. The fact that he's the fire brigade captain made it even more hilarious.
I got the industrial tin snips out and managed to find some deliciously juicy unburned bits under the half-inch thick charcoal, so we had a good dinner. Gary is having charcoal salad sandwiches for the rest of the week.
But the big news is: RAIN! rain!! The lightning has been spectacular. The puppies and Smokey are completely unperturbed, but Honey hates the thunder and is freaking out. I guess we'll find out in the morning if we're bogged in or not - thank goodness I stocked up on groceries. At least we have plenty of charcoal chicken to tide us over crunch crunch crunch
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