Breakfast time.

Here they come all waiting for their daily sack of Moosli.

It took only two minutes leaning on this gate before they all trotted over.

They are not very bright. They are unable to tell the difference between an ancient retired pen pusher and a farmer.

When I got back home it RAINED. Just for an hour but so little that it would take a year to fill a water butt. And now we seem to have the prospect of another week in the Sahara.