Four-Legged Staff, Zero Payroll: The Real Bosses of Sunnybrook Farm

Every winery has a tasting room team. Ours just happens to include a dog who inspects every car that pulls into the gravel lot, a flock of chickens with strong opinions about parking, and a cat who has never once poured a glass of wine but somehow ends up in half our visitors' vacation albums.

If you've visited Sunnybrook, you already know. If you haven't, consider this your official introduction to the staff members who don't appear on our website's About page — mostly because they can't hold a pen, and one of them keeps trying to eat it.

Biscuit, Director of First Impressions

Biscuit is our border collie, and she takes her job seriously. Her title isn't official (she can't read), but her duties are clear: greet every vehicle, escort guests from the parking area to the tasting room porch, and perform exactly one barrel roll if a child says "sit" in an encouraging tone.

She has escorted an estimated 4,000 visitors over the past six years. She has accepted zero tips, though she will negotiate for a piece of jerky.

What people don't see is Biscuit's off-hours work. During harvest, she naps in the shade between the rows while we pick. During bottling, she supervises from the barn doorway with the gravitas of a foreman who's seen it all. During winter, she leaves nose prints on the tasting room windows at exactly dog-eye level, which we've stopped cleaning because honestly, they're part of the decor now.

The Hens: A Committee That Never Adjourns

The chicken coop sits along the walking path from the lot, which means no guest passes by unreviewed. Our eight hens — led by an amber hen named Dolly Parton (named by our niece, and we're not relitigating it) — will cluck, strut, and generally assess you as you walk by.

Visitors love them. Kids press up to the coop fence, adults pretend they're too dignified for it and then ask us the hens' names anyway. Dolly has been photographed more times than our reserve Chardonnay, and we've made peace with that.

A practical note: the hens are on a laying schedule, not a petting schedule. They're friendly but not hand-fed zoo animals, and sudden grabbing from small, enthusiastic humans is the one thing that ruffles them — literally.

Winston, the Tasting Room Cat

Winston is a gray tabby of indeterminate age and absolute certainty that he owns the place. Legally, he does not. Spiritually, it's debatable.

His official territory is the porch and the tasting room's sunny window bench. He does not beg, he does not climb on tables, and he absolutely does not care what wine you're drinking — though he has been observed sitting with particular dignity beside anyone sipping our estate red, which we've chosen to interpret as a compliment.

Winston became our unofficial mascot by accident. A guest posted a photo of him lounging on a wine barrel with the caption "the real sommelier," and it did more for our social media than anything we've ever paid for. We now sell a small sticker of him in the tasting room. He receives royalties in the form of tuna. He does not know this.

Animal Etiquette: The Sunnybrook Ground Rules

We love that our animals are part of the visit — truly, it's one of our favorite things about this place. But a farm is a working place, and a few simple courtesies keep everyone happy (two-legged and four-legged alike):

• Ask before you pet. We'll almost always say yes, but Biscuit is working when she's escorting you, and the hens appreciate a calm approach.
• Leave outside pets at home. We adore dogs, but our animals have their own social order, and it doesn't have openings. Service animals are always welcome, of course.
• No feeding. Not even a little. Farm animals are on strict diets, and Winston will absolutely exploit your generosity if allowed.
• Watch the little ones. Kids and animals are a magical combination — with a grown-up within arm's reach.
• Close gates behind you. This one's not a suggestion. Dolly is an escape artist.

The Photos You Keep Sending Us

Here's something we didn't plan: our guests have become our animals' unofficial paparazzi. We've received photos of Biscuit asleep in a stranger's car (door open, we checked), Winston photobombing an anniversary toast, and Dolly mid-strut in front of a bachelorette party wearing matching sashes. That last one is framed in our kitchen.

Tag us when you visit — some of our favorite marketing has come from a chicken doing something unremarkable in the background of a perfectly nice wine photo.

Why the Menagerie Stays

People sometimes ask whether the animals are a branding strategy. The honest answer is no — they were here first, and the branding just caught up. A farm winery should feel like a farm. That means mud sometimes, clucking always, and a dog who believes every guest arrived specifically to see her.

Come out for a tasting, walk the path, and say hello to the whole staff. The wine's good. The welcome, frankly, is better — and it has a tail.