The roar of a tractor put paid to any thought of sneaking off around the bonsai mountain with the Dolyhir Clan. Fresh from the militias stores much needed hayledge, straw and bedding for the critters. The promised dry spell has not lasted, the imminent arrival of rain (it could be seen approaching across the valley) meant that the bales needed moving sooner rather than later, especially as they were under the edge of the eaves of the stable so a trillion gallons of water would be funnelled onto them. As Pam has taken up residence in the straw store the question of where to store the surplus once Thor, the piglets, the other piglets, the new piglets, the goats, the horses, chickens, dogs (drying out room) , cats, mice and any other living thing here in need of dry beds quickly became a redundant question as the straw, its lovely cylinder shape kept in place by a large and very tight nylon net, exploded into tiny particles across the yard once the tension was released. The barley straw had succumbed to the nasty fungi that shreds it into little bits meaning that yours truly, who had an arduous task ahead any way, now could only move massive pile of straw like particles a handful at a time. Which is why at well past every ones bedtime I was still shuffling backwards and forwards with straw trailing in my wake. There were times I thought I was just spreading it out rather than moving it but end of play saw all animals rolling in fresh beds and me itching like a man on a fuzzy tree. Still at least they are happy. And I got it done before it rained. Too hard.