Days passed and the men had put together a plan of attack. They had their hearts set upon getting their homes back from the animals that had taken it over. The farmers were ready to attack. They were almost fully confident that they would be able to go back and secure their old positions on the farm. As they slowly but dutifully made their way through town and continued onto the path that led to Animal Farm they talked and laughed and cheered. Some had brought along their silver flasks and were taking gulps of alcohol before passing the contents around to others. They even gathered men from neighboring farms as allies. Men from farms such as Foxwood and Pinchfield had also joined the fleet of men marching forward. As they strutted, arrogance radiated off of them and their smiles gave the impression that they had already won the battle. Almost every man carried a stick as his weapon, but even from high above their heads I could make out the gleam of Mr. Jones’ gun. As I looked up I could almost make out the silhouette of the farm, and I swore that I saw other birds flying quickly towards the farm. We were almost there. This was it! My chance had finally come to go back home and check up on the animals I had left behind!