Last year the birds got the grapes. I am still not sure what that was about. Maybe like the blue berry guy, I should have taken the nuclear option. This would be to blast the birds like he does----he got a permit to take out 100 robins but in the end didn't have the heart. Me either.
This year the grapes came on well and just before leaving I snatched one variety (not a special Merlot) but a wine grape it was called, and froze them all in bags for later fermentation. I suspect many were not really totally ripe so my wine may suffer. I felt I had to grab them or the hoards of invading Mongolian (Genghis Robin) red breasts would have robbed me of my bounty.
I had to leave the Concords because they were at least a month off. They were looking good and in truth no Robins were stalking them as near as I could tell. I had threatened the few resident birds but it was a hollow threat---like the blue berry dude.
While away fishing the rivers of the west, I heard rumors that they were hanging long on the vine, robust and absorbing nutrients fit for a fine wine, maybe a mediocre wine after all they were Concords, the same type used to make Mad Dog. Still, I could put the bottle in a paper bag go down to the village bench and sit there for hours in a stupor passing the bag among the other homeless types. They had value. I love my friends.
On return, I found the majority of them to have survived the onslaught largely due to the heavy foliage and the shear numbers. Many of the visible grapes were mauled but the bulk awaited my arrival. They were clearly anticipating being turned into a nice vintage, some thing maybe snappy, maybe naughty, maybe aggressive but not pretentious. Nice leg, robust nose and possibly drinkable, and not just drinkable when everything else is gone. Let's hope for the best.
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