Looking around from my post above the barn, I came to the realization that the farm was slowly but surely declining. Nowadays, Mr. Jones and his men were incredibly lazy. The farmer had resorted to drinking his days away, whereas his men just discontinues their work altogether. On the other hand, even though the animals were still underfed and mistreated, they were thriving under their new leadership. The pigs (mainly Napoleon and Snowball) had taken over the rebellion, with little Squealer at their heels. Their wish was his command. The animals attended frequent meetings where the pigs had elaborated upon Old Major’s ideas, and given it a name. This new system was aptly named Animalism. Of course, the rebellion came soon. It was late Saturday night, and crashes and banging could be heard echoing through the night from outside in the store-shed. I was awake in an instant with a screech and I peeked out the window. From what I could see from the house the animals had broken into the shed for food, and now were being harshly reprimanded, by the farmers’ whips. But in a turn of events, the farmers were the ones being chased, butted, and kicked this way and that. Like the cowards these men were, they took off towards the main road. Mrs. Jones was up in an instant. I watched from my perch as she few around the room, grabbed a few essentials and scurried out the back door of the house. I obediently flew off after her with one last look over my shoulder at the farm. Mr. Jones should’ve heeded my warnings from the beginning.