I know it was wrong and I should not have done the dirty deed. There were signs posted all around to remind all of us. And it is against the law. At times I enjoy - breaking the rules - and this was one of those times. Well, I didn't enjoy the results of my insubordination.
Breakfast was biscuits and sausage gravy - a southern thing - or so I presume. I never heard of it before I moved below the Mason Dixon line. White creamy gravy filled with greasy sausage poured over hot home made country biscuits drizzled with REAL butter. Clog those arteries. Actually, it's not one of my favorite breakfast meals but hubby salivates when he even smells the aroma.
So I ate to please him, since he was the chef but there was a whole biscuit left. What to do? What to do? It was near impossible to take it back with us or have it cold for lunch. With biscuits it's hot or nutting.
So very nonchalantly and innocently (not soooo innocent) I tossed the biscuit for the raccoon's that wander the campsite. They were lurking somewhere in the woods or raiding another campsite. After the hearty heavy artery clogging breakfast hubby and I went for a stroll around the park.
If you know anything about raccoon's you know how aggressive and selfish they are. They also know it's an all day buffet at the campgrounds. Sneaky little rascals. For them the bread is buttered on both sides.
Did I mention the word - tent - as in nylon tent with food inside? Remember those cute little racoon's I left the biscuit for. Well, apparently that was not enough. With that long sniffer of theirs our food was beckoning them inside our tent. Zippers mean nothing to racoon's. Nylon tears.
Not only did they raid our pantry they were still inside when we returned, Now what? We banged some pans together to frighten them away. No such luck. I heard their snickering raspy voices from inside our tent or what was left of our tent. It sounded like they were arguing over who would get the chocolate covered raisins. To be on the positive side of the moon, we really needed a new tent. That one had only been used twice.
We sat beneath the live oak tree right next to the poison ivy and waited for the rampage to be over. The neighbors in the next campsite stood in disbelief. Disbelief that I would feed those pesky rascals and break the law. No one could really prove I left them little tidbits - outside the tent.
I have no one to blame but my own foolish self for not following the rules.