The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A sun-drenched, rustic farm sits in the middle of a vast, rolling prairie, surrounded by nothing but endless fields of tall, green cornstalks. Umm, a family of raccoons is busy plowing the fields using what looks like...an old, manual plow somehow attached to a team of obliging wild turkeys, who seem to be happily doing all the hard work. The air's warm and still, with a sweet hint of blooming wildflowers, and it's around mid-morning judging by the sun's position in the sky. Like, somehow the raccoons are making the cornstalks neatly line up into perfect geometric patterns as they go along.