“Daddy, why do we have to kill ‘em? Can’t we just buy meat at the store instead?” It was a good question, posed by a 7-year-old who is full of curiosity about everything. Brian explained, “Well, the meat at the store came from an animal, too.” Hmm, she hadn’t thought about it that way.

It seems that a lot of kids haven’t thought about it. Food, as they know it, just comes from the window at the drive-thru. For those who cook at home, too many kids think that a pork chop magically appears, shrink wrapped, chilled and set on top of an absorbent little pad that soaks up any excess blood. Milk comes from a plastic container and fruit comes as a plastic-entombed roll-up. It isn’t quite that easy.

My daughter Sophia, the one who wears a princess dress to pick slugs out of the woodpile so she can feed them to the chickens, seemed content with Brian’s answer about meat.

She was curious enough, too, to come out on the morning when Tom the butcher came to visit. We got an anatomy lesson right there, one we aren’t likely to forget.

As our farm has grown and taken up more of our time, my concerns about curriculum have been replaced by worries about farm life. Sometimes we’ve missed activities because the animals need our care. Our chore time has increased as our field trips have almost disappeared. I second guess the process, the value of teaching this to our children. Some days, though, it all comes together. 

Math lessons are out the window these days as we make time for chores, but I realize, as we go through our morning routine, how much the kids are learning. Mixing bottles for the calves, building pasture pens and running fences all require measurement. We’ve got volume, area and perimeter, right here in real life. Pride replaces worry as I see the concepts sink in.

People worry sometimes that homeschooled kids will turn into some freakishly strange, unsocialized creatures. Worrying that my children won’t be able to socialize isn’t even on my radar. Like many of our adventures before this one, farming has turned into an opportunity to meet and interact with a variety of people.

The neighbors are visiting more often, perhaps to keep an eye on us. “My mom sent me over,” my neighbor told me one evening. “She said you might be getting a donkey, so she told me to come see what is going on over here.”

Over the past couple of weeks, a lot of people have wanted to know if we did, in fact, get a donkey. I guess they must be marking it down so they’ll know what to look for in the TV Guide listing.

I am quite happy to report that Bonny the Burro joined our little farm on Father’s Day. We wanted to make the day memorable for Brian. I think we succeeded. He is the only person we know who got a donkey for Father’s Day, a fitting present for a man who got me hoof trimmers for the goats on Mother’s Day. Whoever says that romance dies needs to spend more time on the farm.

Bonny the Burro is a natural livestock guardian, which is the real reason she joined our farm. By her nature, she dislikes dogs and coyotes and will protect other animals from them. Right now, Bonny spends her days lounging in the shade of the trees, keeping an eye on the goats. Even better, she gives us something else to learn about.