This morning I went through my usual routine: feed the horses their grain 
take the hay out to the field and walk out the horses. And then... open the 
tackroom door and release the horde!
      As soon as the door opens, a furry tide sweeps past one's ankles and 
disperses rapidly in all directions. Since everybody is going in a different 
direction, they all simultaneously realize that they are  too far from the 
others. So they all freeze, and  the tide sweeps back into the tack room. 
     After a brief planning session, the tide sweeps out again with a common 
destination: the hay room. There is now a pile of loose hay in one corner and 
they all disappear into it like ptarmigan diving into a snowbank. Then whole 
pile erupts in kittens, and the day's play is on.
     One kitten, a little calico who a spitting, hissing image of Mom, is old 
enough and bold enough that she is difficult to return to the tackroom. 
Pretty soon I expect them all to take up naturally independant cat ways.
    Today I learned to put the halters and leads on the rack properly. If not 
done properly, a lead rope may be left hanging near the ground. These 
dangerous lead ropes obviously pose a major danger to kittens, and they react 
with a concerted attack. This leads to a sort of 
Tarzan-swinging-through-the-jungle game, and usually doesn't help the rope 
much.
    The little tuxedo cat has learned to purr. Having decided he likes 
people, he demonstrates it in a big way. He may only be four inches tall at 
the shoulder, but he has a six-foot purr. Another has decided that all open 
doors must be attacked, and goes after any door left ajar.
  She can grab the open edge of any door and sort of shinny up the edge. I've 
never seen a cat climb that way, but hey, these are inventive kittens. Mom is 
started to take the whole family out on hunting expeditions. So far they have 
ranged no farther than halfway around the outside of the barn, and they only 
things the kittens have caught are each other, but they are learning 
nonetheless.
 
     I'm still finding golf balls in the stalls several times a week. I have 
now collected about a quart's worth. Sometimes I wonder if the cats are 
responsible...    and that's the news from the barn for today.
--- Maximus 3.01
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