In the end, we decided that revisiting the hut was a bad idea. Although the captivating and mesmeric beauty of that herd of rutting unicorns provided no rational basis for fearing a further incursion might result in Bad Things, Nancy's Tourette's and my debilitating aversion to Dwarves might well have combined to devastating effect. That isn't to say any Dwarves in the vicinity wouldn't see the lighter side of a surprised stream of expletives related to their stature and (usually unkempt) beards. All I'm saying is, I wouldn't want to poke a bear in a cage if I didn't absolutely have to. Now I'm not saying Dwarves are like bears. They're not. Although they have similar amounts of body hair, bears have sharp claws that would probably prevent them from holding an axe. A bear is also less likely to drink all the beer in a pub and then puke under a table. The point is, you don't want to antagonize a Dwarf. They have a low center of gravity and they're strong for their size. I mean, before you know it, it's got it's axe out and it's swinging it around and screaming "Freeeeeedooooom", and then you're in real trouble. No thanks. In this case, at least at first, we agreed that discretion was very definitely the better part of valour. But then, as it is with all fun-loving naturalists who enjoy celebrating a beautiful day for its own sake, it was only a matter of time before we got stuck into the tequila. Suddenly brave, and grabbing my fly-fishing rod in case of emergency, we made for the hut.