The Dream of Country Living

The Dream of Country Living: A healing life story by Nancy J. Miller 

Following a dream (not mine) our family bought five acres, had a house built, and moved to a unique rural community thirty miles south of Sacramento. Downtown consisted of a store and a post office. The park was the center of family activities and Herald Day. Future Farmers of America (FFA) for young people and raising or breeding horses was popular for women.

With great anticipation, we walked down our gravel road to see our new house being built amidst the brown weeds. Our seven-year-old daughter asked why there were dead birds hanging from the wire fence next to our gravel road. What kind of place is this? My heart sank as I warned them that it is an electric fence and told them not to touch it. I couldn’t really explain why the neighbor was electrocuting the birds, but this was my first clue that this adventure wasn’t what I was expecting.

 

After moving into our new home, one of the neighbors said in conversation she slugged her horse, shot her chickens, and had sixteen cats. Again, what kind of place is this? I wondered not knowing that I would soon become one of them. Actually, it took going to the feed store and getting hay for my pony, before I made any friends. Apparently riding through the small community with hay in my van was more of a conversation starter than taking the kids to the park. 

 

Rope Over Roper

 

I knew nothing about owning a pony, but we adopted 22-year-old Roper, a Pony of America (POA) my brother’s girlfriend rescued. Built like a slightly smaller horse, Roper had been abandoned in a field with a rope around his neck, so they called him Roper. I learned how to groom him and pick his hooves. I didn’t have a post to tie him to; he tried to run me against the fence when I tried tying him to a fence post, so I threw a rope over his neck.  Then, he stood still for grooming. That worked until I took my grooming took too long, and he ran. Then he knew he could get away. Grooming just got more difficult.

The rope trick also worked for getting his halter around his face. He would frequently rub his halter against the fence to take it off. My next step was to get his attention. No, a carrot didn’t work. He would walk up close enough to see the carrot in my hand, then stomp his feet and run. Ponies like to tease.

Cracking a whip was supposed to get a horse’s attention, so off I went to the feed store. In the back of the feed store, I found a whip and practiced cracking it and finally got a sound. I didn’t want to buy it if I couldn’t use it to get Roper’s attention. Of course I didn’t touch Roper with it, but it made my husband more than a little nervous to have a wife with a whip.

Roper would let the girls ride him in circles around the backyard for fifteen minutes, then he would stop and not walk another step. My daughter wanted to ride him down our gravel road. I told her she would need to be able to jump off if he tried to roll over on her or run her up against the fence. She was determined, and with just a blanket on his back, bridle in his mouth, and reins to hold on to, she rode him down our gravel road.  When he tried to bite her while she was on his back, she slugged him on the neck to get his attention. It didn’t hurt him, but he quit trying to bite her. So, it actually works to slug your horse and probably hurts you more than them. I didn’t ask her.

Roosters Don’t Rule--Snap!

 

Going to the feed store was a regular outing when we had animals and property. One spring day we heard a soft peeping and headed over to the box of baby chicks. The girls were delighted and we couldn’t resist the soft, fuzzy creatures. They were so cute! There were chicks that were supposedly females and then the mixed box that were cheaper. What did we know? We got the cheaper ones and ended up with two roosters. Just male chickens, right? 

No, roosters are a different animal. In a cage, they immediately start fighting. I can see why they were so popular for betting on cockfights. They are natural fighters. Two roosters left in the backyard with four chickens did not work. The roosters got very aggressive pecking the chickens and they made quite a racket. We didn’t have the internet, and I couldn’t search how to manage chickens and roosters. Okay, containment would be the obvious solution, but I am not a builder and no one else was interested in making a chicken coop. I did put the rooster in the field, but that failed. I confess that stress at home may have caused me to snap.

I got cord from the hay bale, my daughter (who tells me not to tell this story) grabbed a rooster since I was inept at catching anything. The animals all stood at the fence in the field watching. It felt weird to have an audience. Were they afraid they would be next? Anyway, we each took an end of the cord that was wrapped around the rooster’s neck and snap! Done. Then the next one. Okay, now I killed not chickens, but roosters. I never would have imagined this life.

The Trouble with Goats

 

We got a goat to eat the weeds in the field. We needed to have it delivered since the goat had horns, and they can break through the windshield of a van. Then we learned that goats are social and we needed another one. The only goat we could find was a baby goat with no horns. I asked, before we bought him, if it was okay to bring the little goat home to a goat with horns. He assured us it was fine, but when we put the little goat in the field, our goat threw him up against the fence with her horns. She ended up spending time in the backyard with the pony, dogs, cats, and rabbits. Eventually the goats got along.

I told the girls not to give the goats any vegetables from the garden. I read that once they eat from the garden, they won’t want to eat the grass and weeds in the field. Made sense. But one day, I looked out the kitchen window, and my youngest daughter was backed up against the fence in the field holding up a carrot and yelling because the goat was coming after the carrot in her hand. I told my older daughter to go out and tell her to just give the goat the carrot. It certainly wasn’t worth getting rammed by her horns. Whew! Nothing seemed to deter my oldest daughter.

 

 

 

Cats, Cats, and more Cats

 

How did we end up with sixteen cats? It all started with a friend who had gray tiger striped kittens. They were adorable! We took two kittens since you need cats for catching mice when you have property. One of the cats had kittens and they disappeared. Then more kittens, so I took the mama cat to be spayed. The cost was $80 since she was pregnant. Before long she was gone. More kittens. I put the mama cat in a box and set it in the car so I could feed the kittens, since the momma cat wasn’t supposed to eat before her spay surgery. 

 

On the drive to the veterinary clinic, which was in the nearest town, the cat was very quiet. It was so nice to hear quiet rather than thrashing or whining all the way to the clinic. When we got there the box was empty. I didn’t see the cat again until she came back with kittens. A pony, chickens, and sixteen cats, now I really fit in with the women of Herald.

Road to Freedom

 

My daughter came into the kitchen with a blanket and snack, and said, “I’m running away.” 

I looked out the kitchen window and thought, running away from home down the dirt road and out to the field shouldn’t be a problem. “Have fun!” I encouraged.

 

Seeing her sitting out in the field with her blanket and snack, I was happy she could enjoy her freedom in a way that wouldn’t be possible if we lived in a neighborhood. 

The girls played hide and seek with their cousins in the high grass and occasionally had friends over. By the time the oldest got to high school, they were beginning to miss the socializing that comes with living closer to neighbors and activities. At the time, the nearest town had no traffic lights, a store, and a restaurant. Everything closed by 8:00 PM. This was before cell phones, and many of our friends were a long-distance call away.

Years later…

 

As adults, the girls said they enjoyed fun times in Herald. My oldest daughter said she would own property if she could. My youngest loves animals and always wanted a pony, so she got that. She used to sing Roper to sleep while he was standing in the field.

For many reasons, including vision challenges that made driving on country roads difficult, marital stress that had calmed and then reared its head again, living out on property was not the life for me. I hear people say they would love to own property. It is the American dream, since the time of the old west, to own the dirt (or weeds) under your feet. Some will thrive with the work, isolation, and distance if they own property a few miles or more outside of town, or the town might move out to them, as it has with Herald. 

While living on the land with animals, I learned how to do things I never imagined I would be able to do. I was strong, physically active, and very busy. I got used to constantly sweeping dirt and hay off the floors and accepting a different standard of clean. When I moved back to a neighborhood, I enjoyed hearing children laughing and playing on the sidewalk in front of our house instead of tractors, the sound of a train, and animals squealing in the distance. 

We were young, and I thought my husband would get his desire to own property out of his system if we lived on five acres for a couple of years. I learned that following someone else’s dream didn’t bring happiness to either of us. This unique experience ended abruptly after seven years. It can be stressful to live on property caring for animals, while commuting to work and managing a family. Country living is a dream come true for some; and for others, like us, it takes its toll.