1/2
>It's a clear day, perfect for flying.
>Holding steady 70% throttle, cruising at 700ft.
>Your radio crackles.
>"Air unit, we have a herd in sector 3-A, heading west."
>Check your map.
"Copy ground, I'll be there in 6 minutes."
>Bank right until you have your compass heading.
>Level out, bring the throttle up to 85%.
>In minutes you see your multi-colored target.
>Yep...fluffy pony herd slowly moving west.
>Drop down, scrubbing altitude & speed.
>Level off at 100ft, yaw into the wind with your rudder.
>3...2...1...
>Hit the button, deploy spray.
>Perfect run.  Loop around for another pass.
>You're low enough to see the fluffies panicking.
>Line up...spray them a second time.
>Make a third pass, no poison this time.
>Just looking.
>The herd has stopped moving.
>You see thrashing, chaos down below.
>You got 'em.
"Ground, this is air unit.  Fluffy ponies in sector 3-A dusted."
>"Copy air unit, good work."
"Returning to base to re-fill poison tanks."
 
>You see the air unit circle once then head back to base.
>Hop in your pickup truck and drive down into the valley.
>This fluffy herd was at least 130 adult animals.
>Before you had these cropduster planes that would have been a big problem.
>Now the fluffy ponies don't have a chance.
 
2/2
>Hop out of the truck.
>Fluffies are mostly dead already.
>The survivors are coughing up blood, squealing and crying.
>A few stumble around, blinded by the poison.
>They won't last long.
>One single fluffy foal clings to its dead momma's fluff.
>She shielded her baby from the poison.
>Now he's alone, crying in terror. "Why mummy nu move? Whaaa!"
>Walk over.
>"Mista pwease hewp! Mummy huwt! Fwuffy scawed!"
>Pick fluffy foal up by the back legs.
>Swing it hard, whack it against the bumper of your truck.
>Tough little bugger, it takes 4 whacks.
>Foal squeals and shrieks in pain.
>Finally dead.  It goes in the bag first.
>You walk the field collecting fluffies, alive and dead.
>Some look up at you, scared, in agony, desperate for help.
>If the poison doesn't kill them they'll suffocate in the bags.
>You really should have help cleaning this up.
>But budgets are tight...the state can't afford extra staff.
>At least it's easier now that you've started spraying fluffies from the air.
>Finally got 'em all bagged up.
>Lift the big black bags into the back of your truck.
>You can see a few live ones still squirming.
>Crying and whimpering from inside the bag.
>If they're still alive by the time you reach base camp the incinerator will take care of them.
>It's not a bad job.
>You get to work outside and help nature get rid of these pests.
>And there's always more fluffy ponies to eliminate.