Those Pesky, Scheming Farm Animals

I'm pretty sure that the entirety of my cattle are plotting some sort of effort against me, it looms in the air alongside purple storm clouds. I sit in my chair, peering out of the window while pulling the lace curtain aside, shotgun within my clutch. I see one of them gnawing at the grass as if nothing is amiss, playing the coy cow. No doubt the chickens are wise to the situation at hand. Several of them peck the ground for bits of feed that remain, eyeing me from the corners of their beady little eyes. I release the curtain; I've seen enough. I load my shotgun and watch the door as thunder rumbles across the cooling sky. A long moo in the distance, the signal has been given. I brace for the attack.