Brynn

Hello I'm Brynn. I have just spent the night in the garden, smooching around with my friends. It was warm, we talked about the day and what we hoped for breakfast and who might visit. I'm watching the goings on in the garden. Our humans were up with the birds, sorting out breakfast and filling our waters. Humum came and checked all our feet for pesky flies, there are so many this year and not enough birds. She painted all our feet with something that smells like flowers, so not too baaaad.

As the sun starts to ger hotter, the humans wilt and we all start to pant. I saw our human dad go off with the dogs before the sun was up. I could hear them all talking excitedly about swimming in the lakes. Humaam has come out to the garden with ice blocks for everyone and our bed in the barn is being cleaned out.

I know we are lucky as I remember my life before. My bed stayed the same for month, I never went outside. If it was hot, well we just had to get on with it. All panting and dirty, stuck side by side in the sheds. I remember friends that have come and gone. I used to run up to the shed doors and could see them being loaded onto huge trucks, all year. Freezing and icy in the winter, stinking of fuel and hot metal in the summer.

As I sit here in my garden, chewing ice pops under my shelter tree, I feel peace but with an underlying sadness. I know there are others like us, we can here them talking in the fields. Others that don't have ice pops, or feet checks or anyone that gives a damn if they are hurting or limping. Others that have lost friends and children onto those stinking trucks. We all know where they go, we might look stupid to humans, but we can smell death on those trucks. We all talk, we all think, we are not just "silly sheep". My humum sits looking at us, tears on her face. I know she's just seen something horrible. She sits in the garden for little moments, talks with us and we feel loved. The sorrow in her heart matches mine.

It's going to be so hot, the sun is white, the birds are quiet. Joy and Alf Turkey have tucked themselves by the pond. Clyde peacock is high up in the shady branches of the shelter tree and the cows are knee deep in the lake. I hope my friends on the trucks have a short journey and aren't too scared. Maybe the driver will change his mind and bring them here, for ice pops and shelter, I can hope, can't I ?