Wherefore art thou Max?

It's stumbling around the yard time again!  No, we've not been at the moonshine, a midnight, full moon calving produced this little werewolf... Or given it was born of Caribou, perhaps a little reindeer in training?

With time to kill as Caribou settled, it was time to assess the options for a) staying warm and b) not falling asleep in the barn.  After deciding it was positively arctic when I left my bed, I was wearing three fleeces, a coat, and hat, (positively balmy, how wrong I was) and had the restricted mobility of the Michelin man.  Excellent for warmth, bad for accusations "your immense bulk is blocking the light [single bulb] in the barn".

As for falling asleep, this is no jungle gym, you've got to get creative.  Whilst you, calving novice, might see a breeze block in the straw, you would be wrong.  I (foolishly) see a temporary balance ball for a little core exercise, some step-ups (massively contributed to the stumbling).  Other patented ways to kill time and avoid the fallback option of local radio - all farm radios' bandwidth selectively dies leaving only BBC Radio Suffolk/Essex (I can't type that without singing the jingle)?  An impromptu Bollywood dance class - a little known fact is that Bollywood dancing originated from the Essex-Suffolk border where we are all naturals.  Humph can now also hand jive -  I'm not sure how he ever survived an episode of 'Blockbusters' without this crucial life skill.  A life is born, a skill is learnt, it's deep stuff here on the farm.

But '"Where is Max?' I hear you (apparently the entire County of Dorset?) ask.  Well, not only is he now installed in his proper place on the "Dairy dreams" post, but he's got double-billing.  Here, for your eyes only, is Max with his best "Blue Steel".  Definitely working his best side.