She replied, “No … I’m not a farmer.”

“Then why you wearin’ them?”

“Because I like them. Why are you wearing that Green Bay Packer jacket — you play for the Packers?”

He snorted, “No, I don’t play for the Packers …”

She smiled, and said, “Then why are you wearing that jacket?”

“Because I like it?”

“See?” said Sam.

He retreated and hid behind some older ladies. As we walked away, Sam, who’s from Kansas, said: “He doesn’t know anything about farming. These are Tony Llamas, and I’d never wear them in the field!”

That’s another sport for locals in caucus season: I love watching staff members and the press from the big city who tiptoe across farm lots worrying about what they might step in. After stepping in manure, one young women clawed up my back like a cat, screaming a glorious stream of expletives. Another time a woman in capri pants and low shoes was walking very oddly across a field. I asked her what she was doing, and she said she “didn’t like grass touching my ankles.”

One young guy spotted a farm dog, and yelled, “Dog!” as a toddler would, and then giggled and touched and petted it like he had only seen them in picture books before, never in real life.

At the same farm, a nicely dressed young man asked me to inspect a smudge on his shirt. “What’s this?” he asked.

“Dirt,” I replied.

He scrunched up his face. “Dirt? Really? That’s dirt?”

“Yup. Dirt.”

Oh, and don’t forget President Trump

Just a reminder of what awaits the winning Democratic nominee: Last week, I went to the Trump rally in Des Moines. It was brilliant, and he is an extraordinary showman. Over 7,000 people attended, and many more were turned away or watched from a large screen outside, on a 29-degree winter evening.