When I was a kid, my morning routine involved getting up at the crack of dawn and doing my farm chores. One of my favourites things about that was being mobbed by the animals.

As soon as I would crack open that old barn door each morning, they’d come running toward me, almost knocking me over in the process, like I was some long-lost relative.

It didn’t matter whether it was the goats, pigs, puppies, or chickens.  They were all gathered around me within an instant of my arrival.

Of course the reason they treated me this way was because, most times, I came in carrying a bale of hay or a couple of buckets of food.

I had something to give them.  

The funny thing was that if I came into the barn without food, they’d react the same way.