  I grew up in a rural area. We had two police cars, 80 people in each graduating class, lots of farmers, lots of white people... My parents were city folk, but they moved out to the country when my sister and I were young, because they didn't want us growing up in Detroit. Our favorite thing to do was play at the farm. It was about half a mile down the road, and "to be safe" we'd walk through the corn-field to get there, opposed to walking along the busy highway. When they were plowing the corn (or whatever its called.. harvesting?
) we'd just take care to avoid the tractor. Sure, we'd hear stories on the news about the dangers of corn-fields and how easy it is to lose your sense of direction, and how many farmers inadvertently plow up kids or pets... but, hey, we were CAREFUL! When we got to the farm, the first thing we did was climb up into the hay loft and look for kittens. We'd scamper over the wobbly bales of hay, careful not to smoosh any new kittens. Once in a while the stacks would shift, and we'd get a leg stuck between bales. We made a rule that we couldn't ever climb alone, we often used each other to pull ourselves free.
I hate to admit it, but one time we found a mom cat feeding her kittens, and we thought "What does cat milk taste like?"... well, thank god we couldn't get the milk out. After playing in the hay, we'd rush down to the cow-pen. Without hesitation, we'd swing our legs over the fence, and plop down in the pen... our feet and and ankles would be covered with poo, which we didn't mind, since we thought it was just mud. We'd push our way through the cows, which all seemed to collect near us. Once in a while they'd be humping, but we would just point and say, "Lookit that one, he must like us, he's trying to climb closer!!".
Then it was time for the pigs. We usually waited until feed-time, and we'd follow the farmer around, watching him fill the troughs with a sweet-smelling goo. The pigs would snortle and push each other around, but we didn't like the pigs much. They stank and had wiry hair. Once a month or so the farmer would take us into the pig-nursery. We'd get to see the huge fat momma pigs laying with their babies.
There was always a pile of dead piglets by the door... the moms had a nasty habit of laying on their babies. We yelled at the moms, but things never seemed to change. They stank. All of that seems fine and dandy, right? I can say that my love and compassion for animals probably does have a connection with my summers spent at the farm... also, that's where my claustrophobia comes from. Why?
My sister found a hole in the wall of the pig barn. She pried the metal plate up, and we poked our heads in. The silo! It was huge, and almost empty... the corn was just below the hole... maybe 1/10th full? "hello!!! " we called, to hear our voices bounce around, and come back to us.
Christy was always the fearless one, and before I knew what was going on, she had squeezed through the hole, and laid in the middle of the pile of corn. "Corinne, get in here!!". It just didn't seem right. "GOD, you're such a big baby, argh, I shoulda brought Becky, she is WAY more fun than you!!". Alright, that means I had to go in. I squeezed myself through the hole that was barely big enough to fit my small 7 year old frame.
The second I got inside, I knew I had to get out. Christy was throwing corn around, her feet sinking in to the corn... she'd pull them up, kick corn, let them sink in again... I tried to climb back out, but she grabbed me by the ankles. I kicked, she bit me in the shin, I kicked again, and she pushed me out. It didn't take her long to follow me, we could hear some machinery outside, and we wanted to go see what the farmer was doing. Oh, he was getting ready to fill the silo with corn.
Fancy that. My nephews are just a little younger than we were when we did this stuff... I can barely stand to let them play in the BACK YARD without watching them... let alone play on a FARM. Are they going to be big wimps, since they aren't allowed the same freedom I had when I was younger? Or will we just be raising the likelihood of them living a full life? 
