Now perhaps you don’t see us as particularly farm-y sort of folks—but let’s not be too hasty
It just so happens that a few of us would really love nothing better than to find a farm house with a few chickens, a couple of horses and a cow or two and live happily ever after…once we learn how it’s done, of course.
Picture this–only in farmer clothes
I personally will go one step further and say that I might even like the handsome farmer to go along with the deal–especially if he had a Scottish accent. Ohh–allow me my fantasy, would you?
But when we had the opportunity to spend a day at the Thanksgiving Point Farm Country–a very tame farm–we scooped up the babies and headed out.
First thing–we were amazed to find baby chicks and peacocks for sale.
I wanted to put a couple in my purse and take them home–but they were surprisingly noisy. I would never have gotten them past Beanie the Dog Slayer, back home.
Pretty new experience to be near so many creatures that aren’t saying, “Meow.”
This little guy looks innocent enough, but in real life, he was a very pushy, very naughty goat.
In real life, this is a very sweet baby girl.
These were some very fancy footed chickens.
Apparently, every creature on this farm eats corn EXCEPT the calves. It gives them a stomachache. So don’t try it. You’ll get arrested or something.
Llamas and goats–together? Who’d of known? Don’t be fooled by that goat trying to be as tall as the llama–he’s totally cheating.
The babies were much braver than I was poking corn kernals in the little guys mouths. Watch your fingers Beck.
Goats, sheep, llamas–didn’t matter…brave, brave. Watch your FINGERS, Beck…
and your toes, Chompy.
The perfect farmer’s wife–don’t you think?
She–on the other hand–would like this pony for Christmas. This one.
And thus we see that a pig really isn’t just someone who burps at the dinner table.
They are actual pink, curly tailed animals. Again–who knew?
The itty bitty farmers are just too tired to go on. Farming is hard business. Phew!
I ask myself this every darn day.
E. I. E. I. O…
y’all.
