There's nothing like a farm stay to let the children indulge their fascination with poo, writes Nick Galvin.

What is it about children and poo? When my two aren't poking the stuff with a stick or exclaiming "eughh!" in delighted disgust, they are exercising their innate talent for standing in it.
Thus it was with some trepidation I took my pair of junior excrement experts to spend two nights on a farm with half a dozen cows, 88 chickens, about a dozen goats and a handful of sheep.
Murojum is a farm in the hinterland of Byron Bay, close to the trendy village of Bangalow, run by Beth and Trevor Deane. It's a small concern, covering about four hectares of prime grazing land high on one side of a partly cleared valley. Beyond the valley there are ocean glimpses.
Arriving late in the afternoon, the warm welcome from Beth is just what we need after a long and tiring drive. She scoops up our younger daughter from the car seat as if she was one of her own and immediately starts settling us in to our temporary home.
Murojum has three two- bedroomed guest cottages,
each named after the couple's three sons. We are in
"James", a substantial timber cottage overlooking the 12-metre heated saltwater pool. The cottage is surprisingly large - and later we learn it was the Deanes' home while Trevor was building an even more ubstantial dwelling for them nearby. An added bonus is that this cottage is very child-friendly, with locking gates on either end of the large veranda.
The accommodation is made up of a kitchen-cum-lounge-room, an enormous master bedroom with ensuite and another twin room.
The cottage is best described as basic. It is clean and well-equipped but worn around the edges. The kitchen in particular is a little spartan but is also testimony to the fact you don't need marble benchtops and tainless-steel European appliances to whip up a decent family meal.
And there are also thoughtful touches aimed at parents, including the provision of a small box of toys to help bridge that toxic period between unpacking the car and the first gin and tonic.
But the ice cubes barely have time to melt before Trevor appears on the veranda of his house ringing a handbell loud enough to put the chooks off laying.
'Twice daily, at 8am and 5pm, Trevor summons guests to help collect eggs and feed and milk the cows. The kids don't need asking twice and are soon ferreting out eggs with the intensity of gold prospectors, milking the extraordinarily patient cows, examining in detail all the different kinds of poo and chasing Rusty the kelpie around the yard, as if they had lived on a farm all their lives.
The patience of the cows is matched by the forbearance of Trevor who happily answers even the dumbest questions. There's not a lot of money to be made from a farm this size, he explains, adding that Murojum's main business is "farming tourists" and, in particular, wide-eyed children.
The kids quickly get into the routine and next morning they are sitting on the veranda at 7.45 eagerly awaiting the 8 o'clock bell.
As well as helping with the animals, they get the chance to sample the produce they gather. Once you've tasted fresh scrambled eggs washed down with milk that only 10 minutes previously had been in the cow, the over-processed version from the supermarket will never again be good enough.
Dragging the kids away from Murojum is not easy, but I was determined to take a look around Byron, of which I had fond memories from my BC (Before Children) era. However, the town looks like a very different place with a couple of ankle-biters in tow.
Byron, it seems, caters either to the five-star crowd or the backpacking fraternity but has precious little to offer young families.
The lighthouse was an interesting diversion for a while, then it was off to the gently shelving Clarkes Beach, which is perfect for youngsters.
However, with eggs to be collected, cows to milk and poo to step in, even the delights of the beach couldn't hold the youngsters' attention for long, so it was off back up the hill to Murojum. It's hard to imagine a family that would not be enchanted by this place - unless you're put off by Barn wake-up calls and mucking in on the farm, in which case you probably belong at the bottom of the hill with the five-star crowd.
However, if you enjoy genuine country hospitality and the chance to see your kids' eyes widen as they milk a cow for the first time or collect still-warm eggs, then Murojum Farm makes a first-class family break - poo and all.
Establishments featured in Weekends Away are visited anonymously by Herald writers, who pay their own way.