As luck would have it, Maplewood Farm is a short bus ride from the centre of Vancouver and has more animals than Old McDonald after a long car journey. You had to pay to get in, which is an idea I'll pass on to my dairy-farming cousin should milk prices drop further.
Alongside the domesticated animals there were herds of vicious wild beasts that roamed free, or school groups as they're otherwise known. We thought it was a good idea to go on a Friday when things might be quieter, but no: several parties of identically-T-shirted children piled in as we did, teachers beseeching them to "use their inside voices". Canadian classrooms must be very noisy places.
Pete loved it all, of course, observing animals and humans with equal frowniness. He continued to greet everything with a "rarr!" but the animals were better trained than the children. The goats in the petting area were especially saintly. Hannah spent the trip mentally drawing up the menu for our next fortnight's dinners.
All-you-can-eat buffet.
Roast chicken.
Pulled pork.
Christmas/Thanksgiving dinner.
...?
Look Mum and Dad, I found some dirt! Woo!
Goat curry.
Glue.
It was sunny, so the chickens were happy.
Nuggets.
Predator.
