At the Farm, the turkeys roam with goats, mules and many more — PHOTOS

Those who've never wowed their loved ones with tales of turkey physical therapy at Thanksgiving, take a page from 17-year-old Rhys Bertschy.

He's been volunteering at Sharon Linsenbardt's Farm, on 5 acres at the corner of North Tenaya and West Grand Teton since he was 13.

When one of The Farm's turkeys stopped walking, Bertschy's job was to sit the bird on the floor and move its legs. It was back on its feet in a few months.

"People think turkeys and chickens don't have feelings," said Bertschy. "But I could tell he was so much happier."

Linsenbardt recalled how the nine Bourbon Red turkeys now roaming with the chickens and bunnies first landed at her place. An 8-year-old girl persuaded her mother to buy them all from the next door neighbor, who was raising them for butchery here in the valley. Next stop for the turkey train: The Farm.

Animals at The Farm have been saved from the butcher knife and other terrible fates. Linsenbardt has made sure of that for approximately half a century, opening the place to the public — offering fresh eggs for sale, raw local honey, jams, produce, pony rides, events, and the experience of petting, feeding, and learning about the animals.

The Farm is home to several hundred farm animals, and receives thousands of visitors each year, according to Linsenbardt, who says she keeps track but won't be more specific with numbers.

Open on Saturdays and Sundays, the place serves as the parent organization of Barn Buddies Rescue, a 501(c)(3)nonprofit farm animal rescue organization since 2013. All proceeds from The Farm help support rescued farm animals.

With husband, Glenn, stationed up front at the cash register, and help from a few dozen volunteers, Linsenbardt takes matters in hand.

It's a paradise of yams, cows, jogging goats, mules and wicker rocking chairs for visitors. A pot-bellied pig "palace." Exotic chickens with Tina Turner hairdos. A three-legged terrier walking upright on hind legs. Red barn cats retrieved from a dumpster — now named after various cheeses — sauntering past chickens without casting a wandering eye.

A life's work

Caring for abused animals is Linsenbardt's life's work. And, if you're a visitor, you just may learn a thing or two about the difference between Bourbon Reds and Broad Breasted Bronzes. Or, the best way to pet a cat.

"Every single person who comes in here and that I have contact with, I educate for a moment," said Linsenbardt. "Respecting animals is a huge thing," she added. "And if kids aren't taught, that's a sad way to grow up."

But education is pricey, even at The Farm. While the admission cost is $5 per adult, $3 per kid, Linsenbardt estimates that the cost of feeding animals, alone, runs upward of $5,000 per month. With so many visitors and the specter of liability, insurance costs run to $5 million-plus.

The chickens need timed lighting to produce eggs. The cats require 25 to 30 heating pads in the winter. The pigs need hoof trimming.

And the roof needs help.

All told, bills drain about $20,000 every month, according to Linsenbardt.

And, she said, "every dime" of Glenn Linsenbardt's paycheck — who, ironically, works as a Farmers insurance agent during the week — goes toward the bills. The Farm has only charged an admission fee for the last few years.

Keeping the Farm afloat

With no children, no fancy clothes, and Glenn's 1998 truck still in tow, the couple keeps The Farm afloat. After a year-long illness, Linsenbardt scaled down from owning 20 acres of land to a more modest acreage in order to make ends meet.

Still, when The Farm first began charging a $1 entry fee five years ago, she said, "We had people furious at us at the gate."

Places such as Smith's have stepped in, donating produce to feed the animals. And, Sharon Linsenbardt has been collaborating with Le Cordon Bleu College of Culinary Arts in Las Vegas to create memorable fundraising "foodie" events like the recent "Charlie Brown Thanksgiving Dinner and a Movie @ The Farm," while promoting sustainable and farm-to-table food.

"I think the direction The Farm is going is in good food," she said.

While she envisions a country cafe with fresh eggs and a decent cup of coffee, her battles with the city of Las Vegas over necessary sewer service — and the question of annexing — rage on. When she hits on that topic, Pearl the white peacock comes running, casting a concerned eye.

Still, the food draws parents and kids, even when the animals don't.

"I wanted her to see all of the vegetables that are homegrown," said visitor Varonica Green of daughter, Jadah Johnson, who was hanging back, afraid of all animals that "aren't a dog."

"All of the eggs," she said. "Stuff that's not in a grocery store."

While parents and even grandparents share their own childhood memories of The Farm with kids, Linsenbardt worries about the future.

"I'd like to be able to get this saved, so that when I'm gone, it stays," she said. "Nobody can work this hard for something and have it go."