This morning there was a ring-necked pheasant in the driveway as I pulled 
up to the barn. This fellow was probably an escapee from a hunting reserve a 
mile down the road. He wasn't too worried about me but when the car got too 
close he scooted under a tree at the edge of the lawn.
   We get a lot of rain here. Today it was one of those rainy misty mornings 
where the rain is so fine it drifts on the slightest breeze, wanders in the 
barn looking for you, and gently settles its' icy touch just above your rear 
beltline as you bend over to pick something up.
     In the play, er, hay room, lessons have apparently advanced 
considerably. Today I was privilieged to observed Lynn and Nikita practicing 
the difficult and rarely seen Tandem Pounce. This is not to be confused with 
your garden variety Gang Pounce. In the Tandem Pounce, the lead cat settles 
in normally, in what the soldiers of WWII used to refer to as the hull down 
position. The Tandem Pouncer then quietly approaches the lead cat from the 
rear. This is the tricky bit, because one false move and the Tandem Pouncer 
will get pounced himself. The Tandem Pouncer  settles into the ready 
position, with her front paws resting gently on the end of the lead cat's 
tail. Then they wait for a victim.
     The advantage of the Tandem Pounce is that when the lead cat leaps to 
the attack, the Tandem Pouncer is so tightly hooked up the both cats launch 
without warning and in perfect synchronisation. The Pouncee never has a 
chance.
 
Lynn was waiting for me in the tack room today, sitting on the freezer by the 
door. She is round, fat, fuzzy and insufferably cute. She has a large 
irregular white moustache that runs right round the sides her face, giving 
her the look of a British Sergeant-Major who has just has his morning crumpet 
stolen. Needless to say, she got a very nice rub. Aerial has decided she is a 
tame cat again and was friendly too, though not to the roll-over stage.
    All the cats are getting alarmingly blase about the horses. While leading 
Bailey out this morning I has to go very slowly, literally one hoof at a 
time, because the cats refused to budge from the aisle and the poor horse had 
to, um, pussy-foot around them. I think this is an early sign of rebellion. 
The cats are trying to take over the barn for themselves.
  No eagles today, but that's because they were hanging out a mile down the 
road and as I drove by, they deigned to look upon me from their swaying 
heights. I think they were keeping an eye on a couple of herons who just 
moved into the neighbourhood. I guess they took a wrong turn at Albuquerque 
or something. Don't they know its winter and they should be in Florida 
somewhere?
--- Maximus 3.01
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