Tùrel takes us to see his cement barge placed on a grassy meadow running towards the main embankment, next to his small house. Then he tells us that he recovered it, before 2000, at Bocca d'Enza by tying it to a boat 'in the right place'. When he arrived in the area, when the level of the Po covered the path, he and some friends dragged it to the place where they could put it. How? Says Turèl: "Cun an šög ad sùghi, an toc alla volta, a la ligaum a tac a li pianti e la tiraum avanti" (With a game of big ropes, one stretch at a time, we tied it to the trunks of the trees and dragged it forward). Remembering that we are in a floodplain area, the barge was anchored to two piles that sank one metre underground in holes made with an auger. Two concrete drums filled with sand were placed on the bottom for safety. The piles are used for the barge to slide up and down in the event of a flood of the Po. The barge measures 14 metres and weighs 200 quintals. Turèl turned it into a woodshed with a floating raft with a chicken coop on top. The woodshed consists of an iron cage in the shape of a tall parallelepiped where the wood is piled up. He shows us the cameras he has placed on the poles 'parché chē i ciava töt: la legna, li galini' (because here they steal everything, the wood, the chickens), says Turèl. "E pō a ghè anca i can ca distürba e li vulp cam magna li galini" (and then there are also the dogs that disturb and the foxes that eat my chickens). The hens are at large during the day. They can be seen scratching around in the meadow. Turèl says that the biggest and fattest ones will be used for broth, the smallest ones called 'i'amaricanini' (American hens) he keeps for beauty, says Turèl. Then Turèl points out that he keeps two cocks against all odds in a henhouse, which is also a figure of speech, because he likes them and doesn't feel like getting rid of one. Says Turèl: 'Me ag dic gnint, a voi chi smeta dacordi tra lor dü !' (I don't tell them anything, I want the two of them to come to an agreement!). We are still chatting next to the raft when at a certain point I notice that the chickens begin to approach us and enter through an opening in the cage on the raft where there is a little house: al pulèr. No one has called them. I ask Turèl for an explanation. Says Turèl: "A gò insgnà me: a quatr e mesa circa li gà da turnà in dal pulèr! (I have instructed them: at about half past four they must go back into the chicken coop!).