Meet the Goats
Buy the book. Come see the farm. Bring milk if you’re feeling generous.

Here’s something we did not see coming. People started buying the book — strangers, mostly — and then asking whether they could actually come see the place. Feed the goats. Scratch Gus behind the ears. Stand in a pasture in Ohio and confirm with their own eyes that any of this is real.
So we’re doing it. Not as a business, not as a paid tour, not yet. Just as ultra supporters — people who backed this thing early and want to hang out with a bunch of animals and the two people who feed them. You bring yourself. We bring the goats. Everybody wins except my schedule.
How this works
Step one: get the book
The visit is our thank-you to the people funding this farm, so it starts with a copy of What The F(arm). Forty dollars, signed, and half of it turns into hay for the exact animals you’ll be meeting. You can grab one right here:
Want the hardcover or the three-pack instead? All three options are on the book page. Any of them counts.
Step two: tell us who you are
Fill out the form below and we’ll genuinely get back to you. It asks some real questions, because we’re inviting strangers onto the property where we sleep and we’d like a rough sense of who’s coming. Nothing invasive. Just enough that Mariah doesn’t look at me a certain way.
What to actually expect
Goats. Ivy, Roxanne, and four kids who believe every human exists to provide snacks. They will climb on you. This is not negotiable.
Gus. Our rescue mini donkey, who accepts head scratches without limit and is actively recruiting for a coup. Bring your own politics.
Horses. Freya and Apollo, plus Coco the mini horse. Looking, mostly. Riding is a someday thing, not a today thing.
Mud, hay, noise, and smells. Wear boots you don’t love. This is a working farm, not a petting zoo with a gift shop.
Visits are free and entirely dependent on weather, animals, and whether anything caught fire that week. We’ll coordinate by email. Meet everyone here before you come.
