The stampede:
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I doubt these fowl are underfed. But still, they came-a-charging as soon as they heard the soft unfolding of the bread bag.
No need to beg! Plenty for all!
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Surrounded.
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"Um...so where's, um, my bread? I really would like some soft, white, sugary bread. Like. Now."
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He and I bonded quickly. I sensed he knew I married a fellow Canuck.
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"So are they out of bread? How long do we have to peck at this snow before they throw some more?"
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Converging.
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