Old Major died today. He had a short burial near the flower orchard. His passing cast a glum mood throughout the farm for days, enveloping the animals in grief. I missed the old boar, but I hadn't known him very personally aside from the fact that we had both been on the farm for a long time. Many of the animals now had new attitudes, and this change was especially evident in the pigs on the farm. Weeks passed, and then months and the animals slowly became more and more irritable. They never said anything, but they didn’t need to. I could tell just from their actions. They were tired of this life and were ready to take back control of their own futures. My constant attempts to warn Mr. Jones of the behaviors of the animals were ignored, for the farmer had drunk himself into a stupor. I decided to tell the animals of a place I had believed in for some time now, Sugarcandy Mountain. It was there that the animals went after death. It was an exquisite place far above even the highest clouds; nobody worked had to work and clover, sugar, and linseed cake was available year round for its inhabitants. It was magical! However, if I ever managed to convince anyone that this place was in fact real, the pigs would counteract my tales with ones of their own. They had everyone wrapped around their fingers.