This is our nearest post box.
We made it to the post box on foot. I probably should have taken it as a warning, after having a neighbor stop and offer us a lift.
One little girl, the only one tall enough, stretched up and pushed the envelops into the postbox.
The wind blew like it was late for an appointment.
Away blew the letters.
We chased these letters... correction, I chased these letters through one field after another. Over fences; some barbed, others electrified, and into an abandoned croft.
A sheep stepped on one, which I removed gratefully from beneath her hoof.
These poor girls were absolutely hysterical sitting beside this post box, as I chased the letters all over this blooming island. All the love and care they'd put in, being flung about like abandoned plastic carrier bags.
So, when you receive a letter, rain sodden and hoof printed, from the hatchlings, please know it was not through lack of care that they arrived so disheveled.
You have to work pretty hard to get them that muddy!