The boys' club

Before I left on my hay expedition Sunday morning, I wanted to spend some time with my herd. All I had to do was find them.

Hank is always the first one I spot. Thank goodness for those white patches – he's the only one who doesn't blend into the scenery. 

If I can find Hank, the others are sure to be within a hundred yards. Except for this time.

I looked and looked and looked and couldn't find Lucy, George or Alan. Hank didn't know where they were either.

Hank: They were right here a minute ago.

Finally, Lucy poked out from behind a tree. I knew George and Alan had to be somewhere close.

Me: There you are! You certainly look comfortable ... except for all that brush sticking to your head.

George and Alan had found the perfect shady spot to take a nap.

Alan: Shhh...don't tell Hank and Lucy where we are.

Me: Too late. Hank figured it out.

Hank: Outta my way. I think I might like it here.

George: You're squishing me. Cut it out.

Alan: I can't help it. Hank's taking up more than his fair share of the shade.

Hank: Don't tell Lucy where we are. No room for girls here.

Me: Excuse me?

Hank: Except for you, of course.

Lucy: I wouldn't stand under that tree if you paid me. They fart too much.