Support the Farm

Let me explain farm economics, because nobody explained them to me: money goes in. That’s it. That’s the entire system. Hay goes up, fences go down, and every animal on the property has a better healthcare plan than the man feeding it.
If these posts have ever made you laugh, snort, or feel measurably better about your own decisions, you can throw a few dollars at the hay fund. Every cent goes to feed, fencing, vet bills, and repairing whatever the goats destroyed while I was typing this sentence. They can hear me typing. They wait.
And let’s be honest about the ambition level here: nobody is getting rich. Getting rich was never on the table. The table is also broken — a goat stood on it. This is about keeping the fur babies fed and the joy flowing during some genuinely dark times. That’s the whole mission statement. It fits on a feed bag.
Ways to give
The jar is officially open, and it works like this: $20, straight into hay. That’s about two bales — a solid week of keeping everyone’s opinions fed. One tap below sends the crew their groceries. PayPal takes cards too, so you don’t need an account — just a soft spot for animals with criminal records.
Want to give more? Tap it twice — the goats won’t tell. And if you can’t chip in right now: sharing a post is free, and the algorithm hates it, which makes it even sweeter.
Prefer Venmo or Cash App? Any little bit helps feed the fur and feather babies:
The Full Feed Bill — $950
And now, the big one. Nine hundred and fifty dollars is what it actually costs to feed everything on this property for one month — the horses, the goats, the chickens, the pug, and whatever else has joined the payroll since I typed this sentence. I’m not hiding that number. Farms run on it.
So if you’re a person of means, a business looking to make a genuinely memorable sponsorship decision, or someone who just won a lawsuit — one tap below feeds the entire crew for a month, and you become the reason nobody on this farm screams at me about breakfast for thirty days. You’ll also get a personal thank-you letter from the whole staff, signed with whatever marks the goats can legally produce.
The Mortgage — $2,400
Look. I said nobody here is trying to get rich, and I meant every word. But the farm sits on land, the land came with a mortgage, and the bank — unlike the goats — does not accept my personality as payment.
Twenty-four hundred dollars covers the entire farm mortgage for one month. This button exists for the eccentric wealthy, the anonymous benefactors, the person who just exited a startup, and anyone whose accountant said “you need to do something charming with your money.” Tap it, and you have my word: I will walk out to the pasture and personally tell every animal your name. They will not care. But I will. Forever.
And because $2,400 deserves more than a thank-you note, here’s what you actually get: you and your family — up to four humans — are invited to the farm. Spend the afternoon with the crew: play with the goats, meet the horses, hear the stories that were too incriminating for the internet, told live at the scene of the crimes. Then I’ll do a full family photo shoot with the animals — and before you laugh, photography is literally my profession; Google trusts me, and Google trusts no one. And as the sun goes down over the pasture, I’ll cook the whole family a proper cowboy dinner. Cast iron. Open flame. Stories included, seconds encouraged.
Will anyone ever take me up on this? Statistically, no. But stranger things have happened on this exact property — most of them are documented on the blog — and I keep the good cast iron ready.
More ways to keep this circus fed
Donations are just one door. Every one of these feeds the same animals — and you get something out of it too:
And the free one: share a post. Costs nothing, annoys the algorithm, feeds the legend.
Prefer to mail it?
Checks and money orders are welcome and skip the PayPal fee entirely, which means more hay per dollar. Make them out to Michael Schricker until the nonprofit paperwork clears, and send to:
Mailing address
Bigfoot’s Farm
486 Fairplay Road
Bloomingdale, OH 43910
Visits are by appointment only — ask here. Please don’t just show up; the goats are not receptionists.
Everything else you can send, and what not to →
Friends of the Farm
Nothing on this farm got built alone. These are the people and businesses who showed up with equipment, expertise, and the patience to work with a man who measures things in “about yay big.” When we say support local — these are the locals.
Devore Forestry Mulching — Bloomingdale, Ohio. Dale Devore is a core contributor to nearly everything level on this property: the round pen pad, the barn pad, the land bridge to our pasture, and the stump grinding that saved me from a decade of fighting roots. He has also rescued a drunken chicken coop, cleared a riding pen, and starred in half the best stories in the archive. 10/10 nice guy. Honest prices. No haggling, no gimmicks. Land clearing, forestry mulching, pasture restoration, fence line clearing — DevoreMulching.com · (740) 512-2442.
Want your business on this wall? We’re happy to work out work trades and sponsorships — gravel, hay, lumber, services, creative arrangements welcome. Get in touch and let’s make something weird and mutually beneficial.
