We, the down-belows, led by my daughter Hannah Belle who is an expert at taking matters into her own hands, broke through the lower pasture gate and stampeded the hill and the big barn, taking the fat milkers by storm.
Yes, I said it, they are fat. It is because they get WAY TOO MUCH FOOD. The farmer LETS THEM EAT CAKE while we squabble over little crusts of bread!
Vive la Revolution! (or should it be 'le Revolution'?)
As soon as we stormed them a battle ensued that roiled and surged around the barn and then spilled over into the front pasture.
Even the babies got into the act, with Winnie, Jr. and Jaybird throwing down to see who would be King of the Babies.
Even Penrose awakened from her slumbers to join our fearless band.
Actually, Brandy is getting a little bit angry, so we may go back to our own pasture. Not because we are afraid, but because we prefer our humble peasant existence.
Thank you for your time, here comes the farmer, I must run.
2 comments :
Oui, oui, ma chere Belle - you ar so right, eet iz LA revolution..
Your friends, Pearl and Mossy
Oh those are the days of a goat!
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