The animals look idyllic out in the pasture this afternoon. This is their natural place, where they belong.

I’m beginning to understand how Zip adapts. It seems like every day, he finds a new throne to sit on and look out at his kingdom. In the cold, he is always out. In the heat, he finds shade. At night, he sleeps between warm hay bales. In the rain, he disappears, the same with thunder and lightning.

He has a regal bearing, exudes confidence, and is rarely rattled or uneasy. He is always ready for some attention and to hunt. He acts like he was born here and grew right out of the barn.  He is always ready to show affection and get some. He is intensely curious.

The barn is his base, his castle, but the farm is his kingdom. Looking under my raised garden bed, where Zip often sleeps, I found two dead moles. They were not eaten, just killed.

Today, Zip’s throne is the doors to the basement. Yesterday, while we were gardening, Zip went down to explore. He didn’t stay down there too long, perhaps just long enough to scare the wits out of a rat.