Who's the boss?

We recently discovered there's a fabulous healthfood store not too far from us, and after a failed trip two saturdays ago (they close at three, we were there an hour later. Research is my friend.) we succeeded in visiting them today. They sell Amish butter cheese which is the closest to Dutch (young) Gouda I have been able to find. Even what they call Dutch cheese here is mostly from Wisconsin*. Am I a cheese snob? Yep :)

Outside the store (which is cutely named: little store on the prairie) llamas were grazing accompanied by a mini-pony and a burro. The Beloved called the pony a 'tiny little thing'. I said: "It's a boy, hon, you know talking size could make trouble."
The pony let me take photos of its butt and walked away if I tried to get to his head.
The llamas bolted every time I moved a muscle.
The burro tried to nibble the camera.

The chickens were a bit more obliging. Or, you know, not that smart.

Mr. Rooster looks all tough and stuff, but look at Mrs. Hen and how she's giving me The Look. There's no question who wears the pants, or in this case; the wattle, in this relationship.


*There is real, imported Dutch cheese further up north, but the combination of driving two hours and the price of imported weighs heavier than my longing. But only just.