Jonathan: A lovely late summer morning – and a strong desire to linger over the routine duties, to revel in the familiarity. Last to be attended to in Home Park, down by the shore, are the rams and the geese, who form a combined scrum around the line of feed I lay down. The rams push and shove from either side of the line, whilst the geese dive in between their legs to grab what they can! Some of the bolder chickens stand at either end of the line, but they’re not there as referees, they’re picking up the small fragments of feed where they’re least likely to get trampled, kicked or butted! As the food disappears, the tension eases and the animals reform into flocks and start to move away. I sit awhile, on the grass, making the most of the moment. Rhubarb (one of this year’s bottle-fed lambs) leans against me, resting his chin on my shoulder and his cheek against my face, urging me to rub behind his ears and talk to him. There’s Flotsam and Jetsam too, the two goslings hatched out at home and who have known Rhubarb since they were all of them tiny. Flotsam – who we think is a girl, settles down close by my right side, letting me stroke her. Jetsam is behind me investigating the details of my boiler suit – the collar, waistband, and the pockets. These three familiars are too close to photograph, so here’s a few of the others.