History Summery

12. Post- Zvyarism: A Fable about Animals on a Farm

( F I C T I O N )

Donkeys live a long time, and in his middle age Sivo began to contemplate his own mortality. Sivo believed that life was miserable for all beasts, and nothing in his own experience challenged his cynicism. For one brief moment, in the days before the great April Uprising, he allowed himself the small hope that a farm ruled by fellow animals would improve his lot — less work, more food, warmer stalls in the winter. But once the pigs asserted control of Zvyaria Farm, replacing their old human master, living conditions worsened.1 Sivo would die as he had lived: a slave.

Few of the animals left remembered those days before the Uprising, only Pesho the old raven and Zdravka the mare. Before Krum imposed the travel restrictions, Sivo used to wander into town and meet Lilli, the lovely but frivolous mare who had fled from Zvyaria in the days following the Uprising.

“Hello, Lilli,” Sivo said on his last trip away from the farm. “You’re looking well.”

“Why, Sivo, thank you. Sugar is wonderful for a horse’s complexion.” Sivo studied his old barnmate: her white coat sleek and shiny, her hooves

polished and clean, her forelock coifed, and green ribbons plaited in her lus-

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trous mane. She was only three years younger than Zdravka, but she looked a decade fresher.

“How are you?” Lilli said. “Same as always.” Lilli bowed her head. “It must be hard for you now that Stakhanski is

gone.” Sivo nodded. “Those pigs worked that old stallion to death. Why don’t you leave?” “Zvyaria is my home.” Sivo clopped a hoof. “And at least I don’t work for

humans.” Lilli huffed. “Not all humans are like Simeonov. There are good humans

who take care of their animals and treat them with respect. These days there are even humans that call themselves animal rights activists.”

“What’s an animal rights activist?” “Humans who put the needs of animals before the needs of other humans.” Sivo shook his head. “Sounds like foreign nonsense to me.” Lilli stared at Sivo, pitying his sunken flanks. “You know what’s foreign

nonsense? The idea that animals can run their own farm.” Sivo twitched his ears. Lilli was there at those early meetings in the barn

so long ago. The pigs had heard tales of an animal- run farm somewhere in a faraway land, and began to spread the idea among the horses, goats, cows, hens, and sheep. “In other nations,” they said, “beasts work for themselves. They band together and form special animal collectives where humans do not profit from their toil.” Few believed the pigs at first, but Krum and Botev, the two biggest and smartest boars, kept insisting that another farm was pos- sible if they all worked together to overthrow the farmer Simeonov.

Stakhanski convinced Sivo that it could work. When the time came, Sivo joined Stakhanski and the other animals in the great April Uprising against Simeonov and rejoiced when they ran him out. Krum and Botev reorganized the farm as an animal cooperative. Stakhanski trusted Botev, and even Krum, and poured more effort into building the first Zvyaria Dam than any other beast. But now Botev and Stakhanski were gone.

“It’s all nonsense,” Sivo said to Lilli. “Nothing changes.” Sivo recalled this conversation with Lilli a few days later when the young-

est mare disappeared from Zvyaria, and the pigeons reported that she was seen in the company of another farmer across town. Since the pigs provided no sugar or ribbons to the mares, Sivo thought it natural that some would leave the farm to pursue a life with more creature comforts, even if this meant

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being owned by a human. But Krum was furious with the mare’s defection. It came just two months after five hens conspired to immigrate to a human- owned farm where the egg quotas were less demanding.

On the day Krum announced that no animal could leave the farm without the special permission of the pigs’ council, a young boar named Chervenio paid a visit to the old donkey. “Hello, Sivo,” he said.

“Hello, Chervenio. Shouldn’t you be in school?” Chervenio snorted. “No point. They never teach us anything useful. I

want to learn about the great April Uprising.” “Don’t they teach about it in school?” “Not the truth,” Chervenio said, lowering his voice. “They never say any-

thing about Botev.” “Nothing?” “They say he was an enemy of the beasts.” Sivo huffed. “Did you know him?” Chervenio said. Sivo studied the young boar. “Why are you so interested in Botev?” Chervenio lowered his voice to a whisper. “I found some of his poems,” he

said. “They were buried in a box, and I dug them up.” “That could be dangerous,” said Sivo. “I don’t think he was an enemy of the beasts. I think he was a great revo-

lutionary,” Chervenio said. “He talked about cooperation and the equality of all animals. He never wore clothes and never slept in beds, and he didn’t need the dogs to get his way.”

“That’s how I remember him,” Sivo said. “So it’s true.” Chervenio stared at the ground and stood in silence for a

moment. “Is it also true that Krum murdered other pigs?” Sivo closed his watery eyes and opened them. “Krum never murdered any

beast. The dogs did the murdering.” “But on his command?” Sivo simply nodded. It had been a long time since those dark days after

the Uprising. Chervenio came closer to Sivo and motioned for the old jack to lower his

head. “Sivo, Zvyaria farm is in trouble. Krum and the senior pigs have bor- rowed money from the humans, and are thinking of selling some of the cows to pay their debts.”

Sivo shuddered as he remembered his friend Stakhanski, sold off to the knackery when he could no longer work.

“Some of the younger pigs think it’s time for Krum to go. He’s betrayed the

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Uprising, and compromised all the original principles of Zvyarism. We want to restore equality to Zvyaria, and we want your help.”

Sivo tilted his head. “The animals respect you. They know you were there at the great April

Uprising. That you helped Stakhanski build the dams, and that you some- times leave the farm and know about the outside world.”

“I can’t leave the farm anymore.” “That’s why we have to take back Zvyaria from Krum. He’s made it a

prison. He’s turned us into his property, to dispose of as he wishes. Just like a human.”

“What about the dogs?” Sivo whispered. “There are so many of them now.” Chervenio’s voice was so low now that Sivo could barely hear. “The dogs . . .

tired . . . want . . . change.” Sivo heard hoof falls outside of the barn, and lifted his head. Zdravka re-

turned from her day in the fields. “Hello, Chervenio,” she said. “Shouldn’t you be in school?”

“Hello, Zdravka,” Chervenio said. “Sivo was just helping me with a school project.”

Chervenio turned toward the barn door. “Thanks, Sivo. Is it okay if I come back for more help tomorrow?”

Sivo hesitated. But for the sake of the poor cows, and in memory of his friend Stakhanski, he nodded.

And so it came to pass that Chervenio and some of his schoolmates spread dissent among the beasts of Zvyaria. Yes, he told them, they should stay proud that they lived and worked on a farm run by animals, but he also argued that the senior pigs had become no better than the humans and it was time to return to the original ideals of the great April Uprising. The animals didn’t need much convincing. Chervenio organized secret readings of Botev’s poetry, verses that gave the animals courage to stand up to the fearsome dogs.

Of course, the dogs knew what was happening. They had informers among every group of animals on the farm and got regular updates on the doings of the hens, sheep, cows, goats, and horses. The report that the young boar Chervenio was meeting with the old ass in the barn caught the attention of a junior pup named Muttro. Muttro worked as a lower- ranking officer in the internal affairs department of Canine Security. He disliked the senior pigs, whom he saw as lazy and undisciplined, but admired their ability to work with humans. Muttro heard about the plan to sell the cows, and the dog com- manders warned that there would be unrest on the farm. Muttro, like many of his fellow officers, understood that the pigs could not run the farm without

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them. Dogs were generally loyal, and the pigs treated them well, but some pups like Muttro resented the pigs for not giving the dogs a voice in how the farm was run. Taking the loans was a stupid idea, Muttro thought, and selling the cows to pay them off was worse.

The second great Uprising required no violence. When the day came, Chervenio and the other reformist pigs appeared in the dining room of the pigs’ house with representatives of all the other animals on the farm. Sivo and Zdravka represented the equines. Chervenio demanded Krum’s immediate resignation. Krum called the dogs, but the dogs did not come. Instead, Mut- tro appeared and stood with the other animals. Dumbfounded and confused, Krum and the other senior pigs tried to negotiate, but Chervenio gave them an hour to leave the farm, taking nothing with them but the clothes on their back.

“Everything else,” Chervenio said, “belongs to the beasts of Zvyaria.” Krum looked to Muttro. “Junior officer, how can you stand there and al-

low this treason?” “The treason began with you, Krum, long ago,” Muttro said. “You violated all of the laws of Zvyarism and betrayed the spirit of the

great April Uprising, all for your own gain,” Chervenio said. “The beasts of Zvyaria will tolerate this tyranny no longer.”

When Krum and the other pigs realized they had no choice, they marched out of the big house in a single file. All of the animals of Zvyaria lined up to watch them leave. When the last of the senior pigs passed through the gate, Muttro closed it behind them, and shouted, “Never return. You are welcome here no longer.”

The animals cheered. Chervenio suggested an immediate meeting in the barn. As the animals filed into the barn, the remaining pigs, all of whom were

young and born after the great April Uprising, interspersed themselves among the other beasts, ensuring that no two pigs sat together. The pigeons and Pesho, the raven, perched in the rafters. Because it was their habit, the hens sat together opposite the cows. The goats and the sheep clustered in front of the bovine contingent. The dogs came in last, and Muttro motioned for them to disperse like the pigs. The dogs hesitated, and then obeyed, even those senior dogs that felt uncomfortable with the recent turn in events. Muttro himself sauntered to Chervenio’s side, resting on his haunches, as the others settled in.

Chervenio cleared his throat. “Today, fellow beasts, we have returned to the true spirit of the April Uprising. Beginning today we can return to the original principles of Zvyarism. All animals are equal and all animals deserve their fair share of the wealth created at Zvyaria.”

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The animals hooted, cooed, and snorted their approval. “From now on, all decisions will be made in common, at weekly meetings

here in the barn.” Muttro waited until the jubilation died down before he spoke. “And who,”

he said, “will be in charge of implementing the decisions?” Chervenio eyed Muttro. “We’ll all implement the decisions. Collectively.” Muttro stood and addressed the animals. “But someone must be in charge

of Zvyaria, if only to coordinate our trade with the humans. We can’t produce everything we need here at the farm. There will have to be some contact with the outside world.”

The animals listened. “And there is the issue of the debts owed to the humans,” Muttro contin-

ued. “The senior pigs took the loans as the leaders of the farm, but the money owed doesn’t disappear because the pigs are gone.”

“We don’t need any leaders,” Chervenio said. “We can make all decisions collectively.”

“It won’t work,” Muttro said. “We need to have someone in charge, but we can choose that person collectively.”

Sivo, standing in the back, snorted. “What do you mean, Muttro?” Muttro pricked up his ears, and made eye contact with the donkey. He

inhaled. “We must hold elections: free, open, zoocratic elections. All of the animals on Zvyaria farm will elect their leader. And we will hold elections every two years, and no one animal will be able to remain leader of Zvyaria for more than six years.”

A murmur spread among the beasts. Muttro waited until they settled down. “Under our Zvyarian zoocracy every animal will have one vote each, and

you will vote on paper ballots in an enclosed stall so no one else can see who you are voting for. After you vote, you will put your ballot in a box until ev- eryone has voted. Then the votes will be counted in the open, and whoever has the most votes will be the leader of Zvyaria.”

“Why is an election better than a weekly meeting?” Chervenio said. “A meeting where every animal can have his say.”

“Weekly meetings take too much time,” Muttro said, addressing the an- imals. “We all have so much work to do and Sunday is our day of rest. Do we really want to spend every Sunday in a meeting that could take hours, to decide how many eggs to sell?”

“How can we ensure the elected leader will not become like Krum?” Sivo said.

“Because,” Muttro said, “in our zoocracy, the leader will have to stand for

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reelection in two years. If the leader doesn’t do a good job, he’ll be voted out of office. This way he is accountable to his fellow animals. If we want to have true equality and freedom, we have to have elections.”

At this moment, Muttro made eye contact with his informant among the sheep, and the informant repeated the word “elections.” The sheep bleated the word “elections” until the other sheep joined in. “Elections. Elections. Elec- tions. Elections. Elections.” The sheep’s voices filled the barn for two minutes.

“Are we agreed then,” Muttro said to the animals, “that we will have elections?” “Can we have them right now?” Chervenio said. “No. We must first have candidates and those candidates must have time

to prepare their campaign.” Chervenio eyed Muttro. “What is a campaign?” “A campaign is how a candidate explains to voters why he is the best

choice. All candidates must explain to the voters what he will do for Zvyaria, and convince them to vote for him when the day of the election comes.”

The sheep bleated the word “election.” “And who chooses the candidates?” Chervenio said. “They are nominated,” Muttro said, “or they may volunteer.” “I nominate Chervenio,” Sivo said, and the other animals nodded. “Do you accept this nomination?” Muttro asked the young boar. Chervenio paused. “I still think weekly meetings would be better.” “And if you are elected,” Muttro said, “you can have weekly meetings with

all of the animals.” “Then I accept.” “Are there other nominations?” Muttro said to the assembled beasts.

“What about you, old Sivo? Would you consider running for president of Zvyaria?”

Sivo shook his head. “I’ve already nominated Chervenio. I think he will make a fine leader.”

“An endorsement,” Muttro said. “And the campaign hasn’t even begun. Do you have other nominations?”

No animal spoke. “We must have at least two candidates to have a proper election.” “Why?” Sivo said. “Why can’t we all vote for Chervenio and be done with it?” Muttro shook his head. “Because that’s a coronation, not an election.” The sheep bleated the word “election.” “We need another candidate to oppose Chervenio so that we animals have

a choice.” Muttro studied the faces of the young pigs scattered among the crowd, and then rested his eyes on a cluster of dogs lingering in the back of

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the barn. “Surely, there must be some animal among you who will contest Chervenio.”

“What about you, Muttro?” shouted one of the dogs. “Maybe it’s time we had a president from a different species. Why does it always have to be a pig?”

Another murmur spread throughout the barn, and Muttro nodded. “I ac- cept this nomination, and I would be honored to contest Chervenio in the first free zoocratic elections on Zvyaria.”

The sheep bleated the word “elections” until Muttro motioned for them to stop. The animals discussed the election procedures and agreed that they would vote in one month’s time. Meanwhile, all animals would work double shifts to raise the money necessary to pay off Zvyaria’s debts. Everyone agreed that no cows would be sold. The animals decided to lift the travel ban and restore freedom of speech. Banned songs, books, and poems could all be read and discussed openly. Even old Pesho the Raven could resume his preaching about the afterlife that awaited all beasts in Baklava Valley.

The campaigning began the next day. Chervenio called meetings in the barn, read selections from the poems of Botev, and discussed his plans for running the farm through consensus. The weekly meeting was the center- piece of Chervenio’s campaign. In order to return to the true spirit of the great April Uprising, the animals needed to work together and always treat each other as equals. Krum had granted unfair privileges to the pigs and dogs, but Chervenio would ensure those privileges came to an end. Old Sivo accompanied the young boar for all of his poetry readings and speeches, and they drew a good cross section of the animals who were not working.

Muttro the dog had a different strategy in mind. Muttro knew about the outside world, and was savvy in the ways of the human equivalent of zooc- racy. He hired a pretty hen to be his campaign manager and began negotia- tions with some pro- zoocracy humans to fund his campaign. Even the hu- mans had heard about the terrible abuses of the pigs, and hoped to improve the living standards of the animals at Zvyaria. They were eager to support experiments with zoocracy, and happily obliged to help Muttro in his cam- paign for the presidency, although the dog insisted that their involvement remain a secret.

Muttro’s first strategy was to activate his old network of informants among the different animals on the farm. Each of these informants was funded to create a special association to promote the interests of their own species. Within days they formed the Organization for Bovine Rights (obr), the As- sociation for the Advancement of Poultry (aap), the Union of Sheep and Goats (usg), and the High Council of Pigeon Affairs (hcpa). Each of these

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groups was charged with asking the candidates tough questions about how their leadership of Zvyaria would help their specific constituents. The dogs, out of loyalty, would vote for Muttro, and formed no association. The young pigs, not wanting to appear speciesist, joined the associations of the other an- imals, becoming honorary members. This caused a split in the obr, with the original faction accepting pigs as members, and a rival faction, the Bovine Rights Organization, refusing to accept nonbovine members. After a week, a similar schism occurred among the poultry. The original organization changed its name to the Association for the Advancement of Poultry and Pigs (aapp), and those who disagreed created the Poultry First Coalition (pfc).

Muttro ran a two- pronged campaign, helped by his human backers and his charismatic and coquettish campaign manager. The first prong of his campaign consisted of two key buzzwords that few of the animals understood: “modern- ization” and “decollectivization.” In his campaign speeches and the meetings he organized on the outdoor steps of the still- vacant big house, Muttro told the sheep, goats, cows, and hens that their farm was hopelessly out of date: their equipment was old, and they lacked access to the miraculous new fertilizers and pesticides that would improve their crop yields. He spoke of the wonders of the machines that could milk the cows with the softest touch, and the special conveyor belts that could be installed in the hen house.

“On other farms, animals have not only heat in the winter, but also ma- chines that keep them cool and dry in the summer months,” Muttro said.

The animals oohed at the idea of a cool and dry August. “But all of these things require access to human money, and we cannot

afford to take any more loans.” “So how can we buy them?” said a cow, enamored by the idea of the auto-

matic milking machines. “We have to increase productivity,” Muttro said. “Our productivity on this

farm is poor because we do not have the right incentives. If the hens produce more eggs, they do not benefit directly. If the cows produce more milk, it gets shared among all of the animals. The idea is that every animal will do his fair share, but we all know that some animals produce more than other animals on the farm. Why should we all benefit from the efforts of a few hard workers?”

The animals nodded. “If you vote for me,” Muttro said, raising his voice and waving his paws

about the air, “I will decollectivize Zvyaria farm. Ownership of the hen house will pass to the hens, and only hens will reap the profits from their eggs. Full ownership of the dairy works will be divided between the cows and the goats

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in proportion to their productivity. All profits from milk sales will accumu- late to those who produce milk. Similarly, all profits from wool sales will go to the sheep. If animals profit from their own labors, there will be greater incentives to produce more.”

“What about the horses?” said a young mare. “The horses plow the fields and do many essential tasks around the farm.

If you elect me, they will be paid a wage in proportion to the work that they do. The same goes for the pigs and pigeons. The independent enterprises will pay them a salary for their services.”

“And what about the dogs?” said a goat. “If you elect me and we modernize Zvyaria, our farm will be the envy of

all farmers, not to mention that Krum and his senior cronies might try to return. The dogs will provide security. The independent enterprises will pay them a salary for their services when they are required.”

“What about the dams and the electricity they generate? How will we share the electricity? The dams belong to all of the animals since we all helped to build them. And the farmland: we all helped to clear and weed and sow the land,” said a young pig in the audience.

Muttro paused, studying the faces of the beasts gathered around him. “It is true that the dams and the farmland belong to all of us, but sharing the electricity and the corn is inefficient. The names of Krum and the pigs are written on the deeds to the land and the dams. The only fair way to distribute the ownership of these assets is to divide them equally among all the beasts that helped to build them.”

“How?” said Kafiava, the campaign manager. “We will create a system of vouchers dividing up the land and the dams

on paper. If you elect me, each animal will receive his or her fair share of Zvyaria’s assets, becoming shareholders of the farm.”

“What is a shareholder?” said a pigeon. “If you elect me, you will all be part owners of the farm through your

shares. When the land or the dams generate income, you will share in the profits after the wages of the other animals have been paid,” Muttro said. “This is how the most efficient farms are run, and this system will allow us to modernize our farm and bring wealth and prosperity to all of the beasts of Zvyaria!”

At that moment, the sheep got excited and began to bleat the word “elections.” When Chervenio heard of Muttro’s plans, he redoubled his efforts to

maintain the true spirit of Zvyarism, reading the poems of Botev and trying to convince the animals that only collective decision making would ensure

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their welfare. But once the animals understood that they would have full control over the fruits of their own labors, and that their farm would have heat in the winter and cooling in the summer, and that they would become shareholders of the lands and the dams, the various associations began to endorse Muttro. The first to back him were the obr and the usg. With some persuasion, the pfc and the hcpa also endorsed Muttro and his plans for modernization and decollectivization.

But Chervenio had a stalwart group of supporters who viewed Muttro’s plans for Zvyaria with suspicion. Chervenio continued to hold his meetings in the barn, discussing the theoretical basis for the equality of all animals. A week before the election, Muttro, Kafiava, and the leaders of the associations appeared at Chervenio’s barn meeting.

“Welcome, Muttro,” Chervenio said. “Welcome, fellow beasts. All are wel- come at these meetings.”

Muttro strode to the middle of the circular congregation and pointed his paw at Chervenio. “After everything that we beasts have been through on Zvyaria,” Muttro said. “You would cast your one precious vote for a pig?”

Sivo stepped forward. “Pigs are animals,” he said. “Pigs are oppressors,” Muttro said. “The pigs want to keep us ignorant.

They want us to live in the past.” Chervenio stared at Muttro, dumbfounded. “What are you talking about?

We all believe in the original principles of Zyvarism that pigs like Botev died to defend.”

“It’s a lie!” Muttro said, addressing the animals. “No pig can be trusted with the welfare of his fellow animals. They are out to oppress you. Once Chervenio is elected president, he will become just like Krum. Pigs cannot be trusted!”

Sivo brayed at the top of his lungs, drowning out the words of Muttro, who cowered at the force of Sivo’s voice.

“You dogs,” Sivo said, “you dogs were the real oppressors. The pigs never murdered anyone, because you dogs always did it for them.”

Sivo turned to the animals. “Don’t you remember who you were all afraid of ? The pigs may have owned the farm, but the dogs beat us into submission. I was alive then. I remember. Those dogs murdered hens and sheep, and they even murdered four young pigs who dared to oppose Krum.”

At Sivo’s words, all of the animals in the room, even Muttro’s supporters, felt sickened. They feared the dogs to be sure, but they never imagined that the dogs had once killed pigs.

“Lies!” Muttro bellowed. “We dogs were the slaves of the pigs, just like all

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of you. Those evil pigs held our puppies captive and threatened to kill them if we did not do their bidding. We hated violence, but we feared the power of the pigs! Pigs are the real enemy!”

At that, Muttro stormed out of the barn, followed by Kafiava and the sheep. The leaders of the hens, cows, pigeons, and goats stayed behind to hear Chervenio and Sivo speak about the original principles of Zvyarism.

Within a day, Muttro had secured the funds necessary to print a thousand campaign posters, which plastered almost every inch of Zvyaria. The poster showed an image of Chervenio and Krum’s faces side by side in profile. A red circle enclosed the image and a thick red line slashed diagonally across it. At the bottom of the poster in blue letters were the words “vote muttro” accompanied by the outline of a dog’s paw.

Because Chervenio didn’t have any money for posters, some of his sup- porters simply scratched out the word “Chervenio” in the dirt around the farm. A handful of industrious spiders also spun his name into their webs, but these could only be seen in the early morning when the dew hung on the thin fibers.

With the funding from his secret human backers, Muttro distributed free ribbons to the mares and gave away imported French seed to the hens. He made promises of the newest electric shears to the sheep, and swore to the cows that the private profits from their milk would allow them to import the tasti- est gourmet grasses from Scotland. When a mare dropped a foal, Muttro was the first one to congratulate her. When new chicks hatched from their eggs, Muttro celebrated with the hens, never missing an opportunity to remind them of the previous tyranny of the pigs.

But Muttro’s greatest convert was old Pesho the Raven, who still babbled in the rafters about the future paradise of Baklava Valley. Pesho had a particu- larly strong following among the sheep and pigeons, and he initially preached that the election meant nothing in the grander scheme of things. What really mattered was whether or not an animal had lived a worthy enough life to earn passage to Baklava Valley. But two days before the election, old Pesho suddenly started castigating those who had stopped him from preaching his gospel during their rule. For years, Pesho said, he kept his bill shut for fear of persecution by the pigs. “Baklava Valley,” Pesho said to the assembled beasts and birds, “is the ultimate destination, but while we live on this earth we must live in a world that allows for the freedom of spiritual expression.”

Election Day came with great pomp and circumstance. Ballots contained a rough drawing of a pig and a dog, and all animals were to dip their hooves, paws, or talons in a pot of ink and step on the drawing of the candidate they

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wanted to vote for. The animals agreed that the three oldest beasts, Sivo, Pe- sho, and Zdravka, would stand over the ballot box to ensure that each animal deposited his own vote. At the end of the day, the three senior beasts would open the box and count the votes in front of a full assembly in the barn.

Almost every animal on the farm voted, save for a handful of fundamen- talist pigeons that spent the day praying for passage into Baklava Valley. The sheep bleated the word “elections,” and the various associations organized private parties to pass the time while the voting was completed. Chervenio set up his headquarters in the horse shed and Muttro splurged for a lavish hq on the steps of the big house. Young attractive hens provided voters with overflowing fresh water troughs. Muttro greeted the animals, shaking paws and hooves with confidence.

When the sun set, Zdravka opened the ballot box with her hoof. Pesho flew into the box and picked out the first ballot and showed it to Sivo who said, “Chervenio.”

Chervenio and his supporters gave a cheer. Pesho flew in and got the second ballot, showing it to Zdravka, who an-

nounced, “Muttro.” Muttro smiled and pumped his paws in the air toward his followers. The

sheep bleated “elections.” The procedure continued, with Pesho taking out each ballot for either

Zdravka or Sivo to read out loud. A goat kept track of the tally. When all of the votes were counted, Chervenio had 124 and Muttro had 132. The goat declared Muttro the winner, and Muttro led a procession to the big house. Muttro opened the doors and revealed a feast waiting inside. His support- ers celebrated the first zoocratic elections with great vigor, while Chervenio, Sivo, and Zdravka sulked in the barn.

“Are you sure you counted them right?” Chervenio said. Sivo nodded and placed a hoof gently on Chervenio’s back. “He won fairly.” A silence filled the barn. Some of Chervenio’s supporters slipped out to

investigate the festivities at the big house. Within days, Muttro made good on his campaign promises. The farm was

broken up into different enterprises: the egg production enterprise, the milk production enterprise, the wool production enterprise, and so on. Ownership of these enterprises was transferred to the animals in charge of production. Ownership of the rest of the farm (the farmland and the dams) was divided equally among all of the animals through a system of vouchers. Whatever money the farm made, minus the wages paid to the farm workers, would be equally distributed to the owners of the vouchers. The electricity generated

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by the dams would also be distributed among voucher owners. Muttro, as the zoocratically elected president, was in charge of making all decisions regard- ing the farmland and the dams. He would organize trade with the human world and pay off the debts of Krum and the deposed pigs.

The first managerial decision Muttro made was to lay off all of the pigeons and pigs. Neither animal, he argued, had a productive use on the farm. The laid- off pigeons begged Muttro for some work, but he told them that there was little they could do on a modern farm. He only needed one or two of them to carry messages back and forth to the outside world. Then he offered them food in exchange for their Zvyaria vouchers, and the pigeons gladly exchanged the pieces of paper for seed. But once Muttro had the last of their vouchers, he stopped feeding the pigeons. They turned to old Pesho for help. Pesho received a special food allowance from Muttro, but Pesho refused to share it with the pigeons and advised that they go off in search of Baklava Valley.

Some of the laid- off pigs found work with the hens and the cows, but the rest turned to Chervenio for help. “Can we set up our own enterprise?” said a now unemployed pig.

“The truth is,” Chervenio said, “most of us pigs only have value to the farm when we are slaughtered for meat. A few of the stronger boars might become studs, but I’m afraid we have no future on Zvyaria if we want to stay alive.”

“I have piglets,” said an older male porker. “I would happily sacrifice my- self for their sake.”

“Me, too,” said another pig. “If it helps the other pigs survive, I am happy to be slaughtered. We have to stick together.”

“No,” said Chervenio. “We have to try to make ourselves useful on the farm. Together we own enough of the vouchers that we should be able to sur- vive on the income from the dams and the land. We are clever and can help the other animal enterprises. Or we can leave Zvyaria and look for a better life elsewhere.”

“This is our home,” said the old porker. “But they don’t want us here,” said another pig. In the end, about half of the pigs left Zvyaria, transferring their vouchers

to Chervenio in the hopes that they might someday return to a pig- run en- terprise that would create a future for their piglets that didn’t include being eaten by humans.

For a while, none of the enterprises employed a dog since Zvyaria was a tranquil farm with few disturbances. But less than a month after the elec- tions, someone broke into the hen house and stole eggs. A few days later, milk disappeared from the dairy. When two lambs went missing, a general panic

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seized the farm. The dogs offered their protective services to the various en- terprises, promising to guard against any future acts of theft or vandalism. Every enterprise hired a dog. But as the mysterious attacks continued, they hired five or six dogs until all of the dogs were employed on the farm. Once they had work, Muttro convinced the dogs to trade in their vouchers for de- signer Italian dog beds imported from Rome.

The hens’ enterprise was doing a booming business, and their nine dogs guarded the henhouse twenty- four hours a day. But the hens dreamed of a modern conveyor belt that would make it easier to gather and package their goods for sale. Muttro promised to broker a deal for the hens if they ex- changed their Zvyaria vouchers for money, which could be used to buy the necessary equipment. The hens happily agreed since they had their own en- terprise and cared little for the doings of the farmland and the dams. They kept only enough vouchers to ensure that they had electricity to run the lights and their future conveyor belt.

A similar deal was made with the cows and goats. Since the animals took over Zvyaria, the pigs had been milking the cows, and this arrangement con- tinued now that the cows had their own dairy enterprise. But the cows and goats were desperate for the chance to get their hooves on a sparkling new automated milking machine, and exchanged their vouchers for the necessary capital when Muttro offered them the possibility.

The sheep grew their wool and hired some pigs to shear them with the old tools, but the idea of electric shears seduced them. A clever sheep suggested that they wait to buy the electric shears out of the profits of the first year’s wool sales. One more year of manual shears wouldn’t make such a difference in the long run. But the sheep were impatient for the modernization that Muttro had promised, so they traded in their vouchers for money just as the hens, cows, and goats had done before them.

The horses and old Sivo the donkey had more work than they could han- dle. They were the sole mode of transport for the goods of the other animals. The horses plowed the fields, hauled rocks to repair the dams, harvested the apples, and fixed broken things. Several horses from neighboring farms joined the Zvyaria horses since the wages were so good, and they could afford to buy ribbons and sugar cubes in town. Some of the remaining pigs worked with the horses, but Muttro offered them lower wages because he argued that they weren’t as efficient. Sivo and the other horses formed a union with the pigs to try to force Muttro to pay the pigs a better wage, but Muttro just hired different horses from neighboring farms. The horses also refused to hire dog security until a one- month foal was kidnapped from the farm. Then the mares

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insisted on hiring a few dogs to look after the young ones while the horses were away in the fields. The horses held onto their vouchers, pooling them with those of the pigs to ensure that they received their fair share of electricity.

After six months, Muttro raised the price of electricity by 400 percent. The president claimed he needed to increase electricity production to plan for the future needs of the farm. This required “new capital investments.” The animal enterprises that had sold their vouchers protested that the new prices were too high. But Muttro argued that he was only looking out for their long- term interests. Since he had full control over the dams, they had no choice but to pay the price he set.

At the same time, crime increased in Zvyaria: theft, assault, even mur- der. Much of this was blamed on foreign wolves, and the animal enterprises hired ever more dogs for security. Trade disputes also broke out between the different animal enterprises, and between the enterprises and their pig and horse laborers, who always demanded higher wages to keep up with the skyrocketing costs of food and dog security. The common areas of the farm fell into disrepair since none of the animals cared for anything but their own enterprises. Rather than resting on Sundays, the animals worked harder than they had worked under Krum, hoping they could earn more money to pur- chase the next piece of modern farm equipment. Only the horses and the pigs surrounding Chervenio continued to meet in the old barn, wondering what would happen to Zvyaria Farm until the next elections.

A year into Muttro’s term as president of Zvyaria, several cars full of hu- man men in business suits drove into the farm and filed into the big house. The animals hadn’t seen humans on the farm since Krum and the senior pigs left. For five hours the humans stayed in the house, and all of the ani- mals wondered if Muttro was finally purchasing the machines they needed to make the farm modern. When the humans left, Muttro announced that there would be an important meeting on Sunday in the barn.

Sunday came and all of the beasts assembled, but Muttro and the dogs never appeared. Instead several humans came, waving formal- looking docu- ments at the animals. Sivo tried to understand what was happening, but it was Chervenio who finally managed to communicate with the humans. After the humans explained the situation to the pig, they left the farm.

Chervenio returned to the barn to address the animals. “My fellow beasts,” he said. “The farm has been sold to these humans. All of the land and the dams.”

“But how?” said Zdravka. “It seems that Muttro owned 80 percent of the farm,” Chervenio said. The animals murmured in confusion.

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Chervenio pointed at them. “He bought all of your vouchers.” “But we were supposed to get a conveyor belt,” said a hen. “And we were supposed to have electric shears,” said a sheep. “And what about our automatic milking machines?” said a cow. “I don’t know what he promised you,” Chervenio said, “but Muttro is gone,

and he has taken all of the money the humans paid him.” “What about the horses and the pigs who still own vouchers?” Sivo said. “They are going to buy us out.” “And what about our enterprises?” said a hen. “The humans are giving you sixty days to relocate.” “Why can’t we stay here?” said a cow. Chervenio looked down at the hay on the floor of the barn. “The humans

are going to build a shopping mall next door. They need our land.” “For what?” several animals said at once. “A parking lot,” Chervenio said. Sivo brayed. “What about Zvyaria?” Chervenio did not answer. He hung his head and walked slowly out of the

barn. And so within sixty days, Pesho the Raven flew off to preach his gospel

of Baklava Valley to other beasts. The hens left to find another farm where they might lay their eggs. The cows wandered into town and sold themselves to the highest human bidder. The goats decided to strike out into the wild. They disappeared into the mountains. When the humans came to bulldoze the buildings and flatten the farmland, the sheep wandered around in a daze, bleating the word “elections” to no one in particular.

The humans kept their promise and paid money for the remaining Zvyaria vouchers. Some of the younger horses and more adventurous pigs set off to find work on other farms. Chervenio took his money and said his farewells, telling Sivo and the horses that he planned to travel abroad until he found another collective farm to join.

On the day the humans came to pave, only a few animals remained: three black sheep, one old goat, Zdravka the horse, and Sivo the donkey, who still had a long time to live. They stood together on a hill watching the machines spread thick black sheets of tarmac over the land where the big barn once stood.

A human in a car driving past shook his head and said to his companion, “Aren’t those the animals from Zvyaria Farm?”

The companion nodded. “Can you believe that some of those poor beasts are actually nostalgic for

the pigs?”