For the uninitiated and it was not really six suitcases and a bit about chickens

For those of you who may be new to Moose and Mosquito, I say welcome and want you to know that I write in an irreverent manner -most of the time. What I did not want to create was a travelogue that bored the @%*! out of me nor anyone else. My grammer skills date back to the turn of the century and sometimes I don't spell check but the official disclaimer is below.

Do excuse all typos, grammar, punctuation, and syntax errors. I wrote most of it whilst riding in the back of an RV on car sick inducing roads. I have not taken high school English in 41 or so years. So sue me. You can read from the top down, bottom up or anyway you want, but do enjoy. I am a bit long winded and digress alot but those who know me well, realize it is one of my endearing traits. So,on with the last post and this is the last post....I promise.

Call it poetic license, color commentary, misrepresentation, or a complete fabrication, but the Lovebirds did not really have six suitcases. It was five and several carry-ons, OK! The important thing here is that I had one very small checked bag. My clothes were perma-creased for the entire trip and the zipper malfunctioned and oh heck now I need a new bag. The Big Fella did carry a big bag (because he IS big) but had no room in the monster for the duty free spirits he purchased on the way out of Auckland. The Lovebirds had room in Gigantor (the enormous suitcase,) and the booze was packed and arrived without breakage. A bit of redemption for the Lovebirds.

Gary and Laura were great sports and traveling companions. And I referred to them as the Lovebirds with good reason. They are very much in love with each other, and it is evident to anyone who knows them or doesn’t know them. Some might think, oh ick this public display of affection is too much, but really it is kinda nice.

I almost forgot the chicken antics at the Mossburn Country Holiday Park. The sheep, goats, and alpacas were not the only ones who benefited from the “nuts.” I can honestly say that I have never seen a chicken running until now. I don’t mean just the little chicken trot with a couple of wing flaps. One chicken heard me rattle the bag and came over at a full sprint. It booked to where the food was being distributed and made itself known. I laughed so hard, I nearly needed to change. It’s legs were pumping and head was bobbing. I giggle now just thinking about it. It was poultry with a purpose!

I took so many photos that it will take until the end of the millennium to look through them all. My Big Fella wondered if I would be putting any on-line to which I sighed, yes but it’ll be on Facebook. He really wants me to add the cattle shots which were not cows, by the way –no udders- but again bear with me, it was creative lie sense, get it? So let's call them raging bulls, and I will pick some of the best shots and post them later. But to see them you will need to friend me on Facebook.

Bye, Bye
Mary 8‘ )