Slate Run Historic Farm

While in Buckeye Country, I have been able to get to know cousins who coincidentally moved here the same time we did. This summer I have been going on outings with my cousin's wife and four kids while he's in school. A couple weeks ago we went to a historic farm southeast of Columbus.

I'm a bit of an animal nut myself, so I was pretty excited to go. But, as it is Ohio, the moment we got everyone out of the minivan, the little ones into the stroller, and had started heading down the path to the farmhouse, it started to rain. We took shelter under a nice big tree next to the chicken coop. For a short time the kids (all girls) were entertained by the chickens -- a short time. It was still raining and the girls were getting restless. Suddenly the two older girls started saying alternately, "Mama, I want to go home."

Their mother looked at me with exasperation in her eyes. "We just got here!" she said. And it had taken at least half-an-hour to get there. After a pause, "Let's wait a little more and see if the rain stops.

Fortunately, the rain did stop and we moved on to the rest of the farm. The girls range from age 7 to 1, and for the most part they are very shy and timid. After playing with outdoor historic toys, stilts and hoops, we went into the barn. This far into the farm, the only other people we had seen were on their way out, and it was very quiet. We were alone in the dark barn with only the light from the open doors to show us what was in the barn with us. Before our eyes had adjusted to the dark, our ears were accosted by the bleating of a goat somewhere in the dark. The girls jumped and moved instinctively closer to their mother. I chuckled and said, "That was just a goat or maybe a sheep." Some sheep bleated in response. By now we could see, so I walked over to the sheep in their pen and pet one. "This one is very soft. Why don't you come pet this sheep?" The girls looked a little suspicious, but they inched over and gave the woolly a second of their time before shrinking back again. We heard the moo of a cow or two from the other side of the barn. They were beautiful red cows, but very big, and the girls would have nothing to do with them. There were some very old, placid horses in one corner, but the girls would only look. And then there was a very deep and loud bleat from somewhere too close for comfort and we all looked around to see a large ram with intimidating curled horns. That did it for the girls.

Out of the barn, we saw some grazing lambs who looked ever so picturesque and harmless (see above). But they were not even approached by these girls. We went on to admire the outside of the barn, some haystacks, and some strange black-and-white-speckled ducks.

We then moved on to a very smelly part of the farm: the pigs. They were actually my favorite part, even if they were smelly. They had little piglets, and are best shown through pictures, although I wish you could hear their little oinks while viewing them. My favorite is the little snout showing through the cracks in their pen. This was when they were trying to get a good look at the little girls. The strange thing is that even though they thought they were stinky, the girls were most at ease with the pigs than with any other animals there (except maybe the ducks). Oh, and don't ask me what it is they were eating in there. I have no idea, except that I'm sure there was a fair amount of their own filth mixed in with it.

All in all it was a fun trip, but I think the girls thought I was a little crazy when I told them that my favorite part was the smelly pigs.