The four girls are in heaven when they get to the straw before the donkeys. Those little feet get to work immediately to separate the pile so they can gobble up the chaff. Which, of course, is exactly what the donkeys are after too.
And when I give donkey Alice her oats mixed with a little oil, ooh-la-la, if the chickens are out, they fight her for it in the bowl. Alice, being so passive, just stares at them eating her oats. Some mornings I have to stand guard.
Here the girls are scrounging the remains; not only what was in the feed bowl but also what stuck to the kitchen bowl I mixed the oats and oil in (rats, ending in a preposition!).
There is no doubt that they are treat terrorists.