So we were running out of hay again, and there was all of half a bale 
left in the hay room. I ran through my usual morning routine and walked past 
the hay room, to discover all the cats in there at once. All five were 
sitting in a circle, contemplating the last half bale of hay. I think they 
were having some kind of religious conference, debating the nature of the 
cycles of life and how they were reflected in the cyclical filling and 
emptying of the hay room.
   While I'm in the hay room, will somebody please explain to me how one cat 
and four halfcats can tear apart a seventy-pound bale of hay and throw it all 
over the floor in ten minutes? Those bales are packed tight, and when spread 
about their volume increases about ten times. The mess is unbelievable. 
Fortunately, they have not learned to cut open bales on their own, which has 
prevented the entire barn{ from bursting at the seams.
     
   The eagles are still around from time to time, but the southern migrants 
are arriving in quantity. I watched a flock of crows mobbing a large hawk 
yesterday, which is kind of like a free air show. The hawk was lucky that the 
crows were not around in large numbers, and escaped handily.
    Meanwhile, robins are everywhere, starlings are back in droves, but the 
pick of the week has to be a huge pileated woodpecker who showed up one 
morning and decided that a six by six post out front that carries the house 
number contained dinner. Since the post is cedar, it was easy going for this 
guy. In a few hours he had drilled a dozen or so two-inch holes half way 
through it. It looked like the farm had suffered an attack by troops armed 
with .50 caliber machine guns.
     Ariel has decided that she wants an extensive scrubbie session every 
morning, and hops up on a bale to greet me each day. Echo has become the barn 
supervisor, and follows me around all morning, staying just out of reach 
waiting for me to sweep so she can chase the skittering bits. Nikita has gone 
a bit wild, but Lynn is friendly as ever and twice as fat as she has any 
right to be.
    Yesterday morning the whole crew was poised atop the tackroom wall, where 
the wall studs nicely framed each cat. From outside the building, it was a 
classic family portrait lit by the rising sun.
    Needless to say, ominous doom hangs on the horizon. The barn still 
contains no less than five unspayed female cats, and they are all getting to 
be about that age if you know what I mean.
     These are not my animals, and there is little I can do about it besides 
make occaisional suggestions. Of course, if we suddenly have twenty five cats 
about the place, there will be lots to write about, but jeez... :(   On the 
plus side, we have an old twin blade plough out front and the pastures need 
ploughing. Maybe will have enough cats to harness 'em up and pull the thing. 
As a matter of fact, one could probably sell tickets to watch someone try to 
harness a team of cats. I know I'd pay to see it. :)
--- Maximus 3.01
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