He died not so much as a week later. Within three days he had graced us with the sick gift of death. We buried Old Major at the edge of the orchard, a terrible morning of mourning was it. The death of early March was not forgotten as the months wore on. Three months to be exact, as we intellectual animals met during the nights to discuss what Old Major meant, and what he wanted us to do. My world had been changed with the arrival of so many new thoughts that hadn't once crossed my mind before Old Majors death. I was a changed pig. My comrades and I foresee a Rebellion, for Old Major himself said it would come, but who knows when it will come. It might not even be for centuries or more, but still I know that Old Major would have wanted us to be ready. It was our duty to prepare our fellow comrades for whatever rebellion we might come to face. We would work together and stand as the Beasts of England to conquer the future. Squealer, Napoleon and I, the pigs and more of the intelligent animals, had decided upon naming this philosophy founded by our beloved. Animalism we called it. I think it fits rather well, don't you?