I made sure our first stop after the corn pit was the bathroom to wash our hands. What I didn’t expect, however, was that the bathrooms would be a destination in themselves. They were housed in grain silos, and the signs outside read “Guys” and “Gals.” Inside, the faucets were metal watering cans. Every detail looked like something straight off of a cute farm-themed bathrooms Pinterest board. Scott actually had to hurry the boys up because they were having so much fun washing their hands in the troughs that served as sinks.
Since visiting a farm without seeing the animals is sacrilegious, our next order of business was to get acquainted with what Skye calls the “ee-i-ee-i-oes”. Free-range chickens—some with feathered feet that made it look like they were wearing bellbottoms—strutted around the property at their leisure. The rest of the animals, including miniature ponies and pigs whose adorable offspring competed in the farm’s famous piglet races, lived in neat enclosures. My favorite was the vintage truck turned into a mobile chicken coop. The boys thought the goats’ elevated playground was the coolest.
“Can we play on it?” Max begged.
Scott shook his head and assured him that there were even better playgrounds for the kids at the farm. But what we could do, and what we did do—despite my fear of getting nipped—was feed the goats. Between watching them playfully battle for our attention (and food) to hearing them heckle each other with high-pitched bleats, it was the most entertaining few dollars we’ve ever spent.
But, hands down, my favorite critter was Ginger, the most precious miniature pony. If I were ever to step in a pile of horse poop, I’d want it to be hers.