I've had an extraordinarily busy week - Jack and I have been on the go from sunup till sundown. We've been supervising non-stop but managed to fit in some time for donkey frolics. The rain and wind have now set in and night temperatures hover around zero so our days of frolic are numbered.
Last weekend the male human and our friend/sometime minder, Jamie, appeared in the run-in with all sorts of wonderful power tools. They began wrestling bales of hay and staggering about with large, flat sheets of thin wood so of course we rushed in and crowded around to help. It seems they were constructing a bin type thing so the woman could buy our bedding in bulk, thus saving millions of dollars (I think that's the number she mentioned). It began to rain (of course) so that meant that along with Sally and Penny, who also insisted on helping, there were eight bodies in a small space.
The only unpleasant part was when Jamie wheeled a metal cart with tool boxes in my general direction - I snorted and fled out into the rain. He felt so guilty that he came out to coax me in and just as I was regaining my composure the male human appeared in the barn door with a yellow snake coiled around his arm. I fled once more into the foul elements. They tried to explain that it was a power cord but I know a viper when I see one.
The next day the woman went off in the truck and re-appeared with a mound of bedding in the back. It was supposed to be covered with a tarpaulin but she was defeated by the wind and made her way home at low speed, leaving a thin coating of wood shavings over two counties. She backed into the run-in and once more we hastened into the breach to give assistance. Well, as much as possible since she had barred the entrances with gates and doors.
It took her ages to move said shavings from point A to point B. We stayed with her throughout and were there when she climbed into the truck bed, stood up, bonked her head on a rafter, promptly lost her balance and toppled into the shavings. Her vocabulary hit a new low as she massaged the top of her head while muttering threats at the rogue rafter. At one point Jack became highly indignant at being locked out of his run-in and began rapping imperiously on the metal side door. Herself threw the door open and hissed at him that her head was already throbbing and she didn't need the sound of a donkey jack hammering on metal, thank you very much, even if the donkey in question was actually called Jack.
The day after this bedding excitement a huge red tractor appeared in our fields and began plowing them up in preparation for next spring. It's even larger than the huge green one and is hinged in the middle like an ant. As is my custom. I stuck my head through the fence for a better look and could see the driver looking askance as he cleared my head by inches. He need not worry, I have it down to a fine art.
Meanwhile, Doc and Molly and even Jack, belted around the paddock, prentending the red tractor was a gigantic monster after their very life blood. Doc did his version of air boxing, Molly did her impression of a runaway freight train and Jack wove in and out of the trees at high speed, his tail rotating like a helicopter's blades. It was exhausting just watching them.