After a little over thirty minutes, the bus finally made a left turn off the main road encircling the island and passed under an iron sign that had, “Welcome to Down on the Farm,” cut out of the iron framework. The bus rattled harshly as it crossed over the cattle guard and then hit the gravel when the pavement ended.
“Well, they really did model this after the American farm,” Trevor sighed under his breath. As excited as he was, he couldn’t ignore the sense of nervousness coursing through his body. Did he really want to go through with this?
Before too long, the bus rose over a small hill and Trevor looked in a astonishment as soon as he saw that the Down on the Farm was situated in a large valley and there were plenty of livestock paddocks littering the wide, undulating fields. Some had cows, others had horses and donkeys, and he even spotted a few llamas mixed in with the sheep and goats. In the center of it all was a series of farm houses and barns that must have served as the district’s headquarters and central hub.
A few minutes later, the bus pulled up next to another, smaller iron sign straddling a gap between a ridge of shoulder-high fences made with interlocking beams. This time, the sign read, “Welcome.”
Trevor looked out his window as the bus jolted to a stop. The barnyard beyond the fence was full of activity. He could see a small family of geese, including a gosling, standing next to a pig just inside of the fence. Trevor could hardly believe his eyes when he realized they appeared to be talking to each other. Beyond them, he spotted a couple of draft horses, sheep, and even a dog or two meandering around the barnyard. He shook his head, realizing he was just a few minutes from being one of these creatures himself.
There was a hiss as the two sets of doors opened up and everyone started getting off the bus. Trevor slid his backpack over his right shoulder and was one of the last people off the bus. He quickly realized the air was much more arid here than it was on the coast and the smell of hay, grass, and manure hung thick in the air. It was just like being back on his aunt and uncle’s farm.
Biting his lip to try and settle his rattling nerves, he started to follow all the other people that had just gotten off the bus and made his way over to the impressive, two story farmhouse in the middle of the barns, stables, and other ranch-style houses. As much as he wanted to look around, Trevor still had to keep an out for the occasional manure pile to step around. The animals around the barnyard seemed to watch the newcomers with mild interest. Trevor watched on as one of the people that arrived on the bus with him stepped up next to a group of cows hanging out by the water trough and asked them how they liked being bovine.
Finally, Trevor stepped through the main set of doors in the farm house and stepped up to one of the last empty counters. A thin woman wearing overalls and straw hat greeted him. Her nametag indicated this was Glorietta.
“Good afternoon, sir, and welcome to Down on the Farm. Did you have a reservation?”
Trevor shifted uneasily for a second. “Yes. It’s under Trevor Wilkinson.”
Glorietta looked up Trevor’s information on the computer and then glanced back up at him. “Okay. I show you have a week booked with us. You can always request more time if you want to, though. Do you know which animal you would like to be for your stay, Mr. Wilkinson, or did you need to look at the list for a second?” Glorietta asked, gesturing to a list on the counter next to Trevor.
A quick glance showed the options of Chicken, Duck, Goose, Cat, Cow, Dog, Donkey, Goat, Horse (Draught or Riding), Llama, Pig, or Sheep.