A visit to Oregon's Leaping Lamb Farm provides an introduction to farm stays, such as overnight visits to working family farms, ranches and wineries.
Paco is the kind of guy who makes friends easily.
When you meet him and say his name, his ears prick up, as long and stiff as two ears of corn. Place your hand gently on his flank, and before you know it, he’ll lean up against you — all 375 bristly pounds of him — looking for strokes.
Paco is a miniature Sicilian donkey — one of many endearing souls guests encounter when staying overnight at Leaping Lamb Farm, in Alsea, Ore.
“Farm stays,” as they’re called, are popping up at a growing number of farms, ranches and vineyards in Washington and Oregon. They give city folk a chance to escape urban life, learn something about where their food comes from, and commune with barnyard animals: sheep, cows, horses, chickens, pigs — and the occasional lovable donkey.
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They bought the farm
My family’s introduction to farm stays came at Leaping Lamb, a small, family business run by Scottie and Greg Jones just west of Corvallis. It spans 69 scenic acres of pasture and woodlands between the Willamette Valley and the Pacific Ocean, an area sprinkled with family-run livestock and hazelnut farms.
The Joneses took up farming in their late 40s, about a decade ago, when a “midlife crisis” (in Scottie’s words) led them from Tempe, Ariz., to the Pacific Northwest. They bought a 19th-century homestead and set about raising sheep and turkeys, but within a couple of years, it became clear that livestock alone would not keep the venture afloat.
So Scottie — who knew that farm stays were common in Europe, and had slept in barns herself on bicycle trips in England and France — decided to try her hand at the hospitality industry.
Now, tourists come to Leaping Lamb from all over the world, as far away as Hong Kong, subsidizing the farming operation.
Guests, limited to one family or group at a time, stay in a two-bedroom cottage with a view of the farmhouse, a vegetable garden, orchard and free-range chicken and turkey pen.
The Joneses built the cottage from a kit; it’s modest in size but comfortable with a full kitchen and bath, TV and Wi-Fi. Upon arrival, Scottie leads a personal tour of the farm. That’s when you meet Paco, the donkey; Peadiddy (a wary peacock); Dutch Boy (a vain turkey); Deedee (a friendly ewe); and a quarter horse who was purchased as Obi-Wan, but promptly renamed Tater.
“We only name the animals we aren’t going to eat,” Scottie points out, reminding guests that this is a farm, not a petting zoo, and the business of farms is raising food.
“If you eat meat, if you eat eggs, this is how they’re produced,” she says.
The tour of buildings and grounds complete, guests are free to do what they wish. That may mean pitching in on chores (literally — as hay needs to be pitched from the barn to the sheep pen). Or just sitting on the cottage porch with a good book.
Most visitors stay two or three days and choose to help out around the farm.
“People sort of self-select to come here,” Scottie says. They typically want to know how a farm works — or want their kids to learn. About 80 percent of Leaping Lamb’s guests come with children.
One of the first things Scottie learned about rural life was that a lot of old sayings derived from agricultural work are true: You really do have to make hay while the sun shines. The grass truly is greener on the other side of the fence. (At least the sheep, who are experts at getting around fences, think so.)
Our recent stay coincided with the onset of fall — harvest time — so there was plenty to keep us occupied. We fed sheep and fowl, collected eggs from a coop and sampled fruits of the garden and the orchard — plums, mulberries, apples, grapes and tomatoes.
We also took a long walk through dense woods surrounding the fields, spying tiny rough-skinned newts and a lazy, well-fed garter snake. We followed a trail of bleating sheep out to pasture, and crossed a burbling stream on the mossy back of a fallen tree.
After a few hours on the farm, time seemed to slow down to animal time. It was bedtime when the sky grew dark; morning when the cock crowed.
Farm stays are one offshoot of agritourism, a growing industry that has sprouted at the crossroads of agriculture and tourism.
When you shop at a farmers market, visit a pumpkin patch, pick berries at a roadside U-pick or tour a winery — that’s agritourism. The industry has taken off in the past decade for a lot of reasons: Among them, a growing interest in local, organic food; a renewed admiration for self-sufficiency; and a recession-era tendency to spend tourist dollars closer to home.
But when the Joneses launched their farm stay, there was very little information available — either for farmers who wanted to offer one, or tourists who wanted to book one. So Scottie secured two U.S. Department of Agriculture grants to launch www.farmstayUS.com, a website that connects small farmers and ranchers nationwide who offer farm stays with travelers seeking them.
Now, if you’re looking for a farm stay, you can search by location, cost, size or type (farm, ranch or vineyard). In the Northwest, the range of experiences offered is vast: From $20 tent-camping on an alpaca ranch near Granite Falls (www.pacapride.com), to deluxe accommodations in a $395-a-night estate on a vineyard near McMinnville, Ore. (www.stollerfamilyestate.com)
At some, communal meals are included; at others, you cook for yourself. Some allow and encourage children; others don’t. The one commonality: They’re all working farms or ranches — not just B&Bs with bucolic views.
Even with farm stays helping to pay the bills, Scottie Jones says farming remains hard, physical and often solitary labor. But the rewards of sharing the lifestyle with others are great:
“We’re sending people back home who are now more likely to pay farmers-market prices, because they see the amount of work it takes to get the produce to the market from the ground,” she says. “We’re getting people more comfortable with farming and nature.”
City dwellers are sometimes disconnected from the land and the sources of their food, she observes. Occasionally, she’s astonished at what some of her guests don’t know: “There are some people who call a sheep a goat, or call a goose a duck.”
When we arrived at Leaping Lamb, we weren’t sure if Paco was a donkey or some kind of miniature mule. Now that we’ve looked him in his liquid brown eyes, we’ll never forget him.
That’s the sort of thing that happens on a farm stay. As Scottie writes on her website, “Many people might like to have a farm experience without buying the farm (literally). Just being on a farm is good for the soul.”
Lynn Jacobson: firstname.lastname@example.org or 206-464-2714