We moved out here because, well, we wanted to not live so close to our neighbors. All three of whom were fine as neighbors, though the 4 kids of one neighbor constantly coming by to visit got a little wearying - and required the door to the Arsenal be kept locked, which was inconvenient.
But, we didn't want to be a part of the problem of urban sprawl, either, building a new house on a 5 or 10 acre lot, putting strains on rural infrastructure that the taxes really don't cover. Plus, I wanted to be able to shoot. So we went looking for a farm or ranch, which we intended to keep using to that purpose, making our move to the country essentially neutral in impact - and perhaps even a positive, since we were keeping an 80 acre parcel intact.
We also went looking in the opposite part of the county than where the county was trying to steer development - so as to put off for as many years as we could getting pressure from developers, and eventually the county as well. We went to where the county plan says they want to preserve the agricultural core of the county. And, to keep our taxes down, we wanted to keep the land zoned agricultural, and not have the county rezone it residential - which they will if you aren't doing some form of agricutural activity. Hence, we have a truck garden, chickens, guineas, goats, and mow brome hay. We've got horses, too - but since they aren't all ours, they're considered an agricultural activity, vice a hobby. While the house is small and plain, the land it sits on is anything but. And that's what we were after. After all, we get season-appropriate views like this. Every day.
And we have one neighbor we can kinda see, through the woods, a 1/4 mile away. And another one a 1/4 mile beyond that. And when the leaves are gone, we can see another, about 1/2 mile away. In other words, we got what wanted. A house, creek, pasture, woods, pond, plenty of room for the dogs. What's not to like?
There's a down side, sure. Right now, the ladybugs are moving in for the winter. Literally. Hundreds of them. We'll be finding them all winter long. As long as they keep to themselves (and out of sight) we'll leave 'em be. They'll move out in the spring and go back to eating other bugs we'd rather not have. But, now and again, I do have to shake a ladybug out of my CPAP mask...
The gravel road isn't a problem, really. The county contracts out with local farmers to keep the gravel roads mowed and graded, and the guy who takes care of us does a pretty good job - our road was plowed every snowstorm last year, and unlike when we lived in town along the "emergency snow route" I wasn't having to go dig out the end of the driveway every day as the city plowed the street snow there, blocking the exit.
I don't spend too much effort trying to keep the black car and black truck clean, however.
We live at the end of a mile-long dead-end road - you'd be surprised how much traffic there is. You also might be surprised at how many people think they have a right to hunt on your land, whether poaching your morel mushrooms, or deer.
So, yesterday morning I'm standing on the deck when the dogs start going muy loco in the woods. So I step over to the west end of the deck and take a look.
Nothing to see - but the dogs are in the woods to the south and making a heck of a racket. So, knowing that Gunner will take any uninvited guests personally, I grab the Polish Vis-35 pistol and head out. The pistol because it's what's available and loaded, and if Gunner is facing down a pack of coyotes, it will deal with them just fine.
Kiki comes busting out of the woods. I'd like to tell you she was looking for me in a Lassie-coming-to-Timmy fashion, "John, come quick, Gunner's in trouble!" but I'm pretty sure it was more in a fleeing UN diplomat hoping to make the last helicopter fashion.
I meander into the woods. Hey, this bulk doesn't run much anymore. I'd just die tired.
And Gunner has treed another hunter. It's bow season, and this guy has a farkin' tree stand *in the middle* of our southern 40, near the pond. Given there's no car on the road, this guy had to cross *at least* 3 fences to get there. The pistol isn't showing. But I can tell from the guy's look he's evaluating whether or not he could get away with shooting the noisy dog with his crossbow. I decide to let him know it's too late for that. What with Gunner's barking, he couldn't hear the fat man crashing through the woods.
I step out into the clearing in the woods, look up at him and ask,
"Do I know you? Gunner certainly doesn't."
Startled, the camo-swathed hunter says, "Um, no, I don't think so. What are you doing here?"
Ignoring the last, I say, "Sorry to disturb you, I didn't know anyone was hunting this parcel today."
Sensing victory (or just really confused) he says, "I hunt here all the time. What are you doing walking your dogs in these woods? This is private property you know!"
Heh.
"Yep. I know. It's *my* private property. I own it. Well, I own the dirt and the outbuildings. Countrywide Mortgage still owns the house I'm thinking. But I've got enough equity that the dirt's all mine. So, hunt here often?"
"Um, well, I used to, I guess."
"Good answer." Don't forget to take your stand - I'm starting a collection."
No, the pistol never made an appearance. Gunner and I walked back to the Castle, just in time to get a good view of what currently passes for a parapet where the colors fly. The Red Ensign flies because we have a Canadian visitor, who prefers the Red Ensign to the Maple Leaf. We've a Maple Leaf, too.
Then t'was off to work.
Yes, I checked. The tree-stand is gone.
Before I was paralyzed I lived on 250 acres in south-east Ohio, plus leased 1000 acres on two sides from Mead Paper. It was also the last house on a dead end road. Nothing quite like the peace and serenity, especially when you can just barely see the smoke curling from your neighbors chimney -- about 3 miles away, straight line distance. Except when uninvited guests were traversing the land.
My biggest issue was a fight with an off-road motorcycle/atv group. They kept insisting that a county road crossed the middle of my land. It took almost a year to prove to them that my property line, and not the middle, was the old -- abandoned -- county road. In the meantime the damage they did was tremendous.
I never had much grief from hunters. State land across the road from me, and it was pretty rural, so most hunted on their own land. That and the GM Factory boys (men) from Dayton that came every year for deer season kept most at bay.
I did have an issue with a pack of feral dogs, for a while. Until they chased my 3 legged doe down near the house. She raised twins every year and ate near the house every morning. The .243 did a right nice job on them. Not that I like killing dogs, but this was a nasty bunch and needed the special attention. Especially since my son (who was about 9) and his two cousins (roughly the same age) used to hike all over that property.
I can't wait to see the place first hand.
I'm surprised how many impertinent visitors you seem to get.
Never had a snake in the house. The chickens eat all the little ones in the yard. No mice in the house, and Gunner gets the ones in the barn.
Not seen a rat anywhere. Mosquitos haven't been a problem, have had some no-see-ums, though.
The spiders keep the rest of the bugs under control, and don't make themselves public.
The ladybugs, however... they'll be everywhere until they go somnolent for the winter.
The Marine!Goth was trying to get leave to come home for bow season, but it looks like that's not going to be possible this year (and last year, he was hunting something other than white tail, if you get my drift ).
I miss the venison. And he'll have to find a new hunting ground next year as the friend of his dad's where he used to go has finally retired and sold his land. (I drove by there the other day and about cried - the trees are gone and the subdivision flags have sprouted, but I can't blame the man, you have to do what you have to do.)
What a beautiful visita. When can we come visit???
This one morning, I took my cup of black coffee outside on the deck. This was my first cup of the day and I was really looking forward to it. Now this pigeon was flying over and did not like my tastes in coffee, it decided I needed cream in my coffee. You got it, a "laser guided dump" into my cup of coffee. I started to get angry, but a split second later, a hawk killed that very same pigeon. I thought, finally, JUSTICE. The mug was a casualty, I knew, I could never get it clean enough. I just took a hammer, broke it and threw it into the trash.
There will always be the unwritten stories about places like this.
Grumpy
SWWBO has mastered the art of BBQ zen it seems, namely fun *after* the work not before. Her hens will thank her doubt.
Grumpy you are one lucky man. I just can't tell if it's good or bad luck quite yet.
*Absence* of said ironmongery would have been cause for comment...
Like gnats, but smaller.
@Armorer, when I was growing up, this part of town was always considered "rural". There was a deep gravel pit not far from my house. The police would not hassle you if you were shooting into the pit. Don't forget we're talking more than 50 years ago. My Dad said, "Runt, I want you to learn how to shoot." I said, "OK", My Mom and Dad went with me and the rifle to the pit. I figured my Dad was going to teach me and Mom was just going to watch. Wrong, Mom taught me how to shoot. She would set up the target and say the bull's eye, plus an hour on the watch face and then shoot it. I learned. My Father was teasing me one day and said, "I notice you don't argue with your Mother." I replied, "Old Man, you just don't argue with a woman who can shoot like that." My Mother gave a side glance and just chuckled.
I have been around guns since I was in fourth grade in school. When I was in seventh grade, a developer bought the patch of woods across the street from our house. He took down most of the trees and left them in piles. This made great housing for the bay rat population. They came in and infested the area. The people living in the area complained to the city. Bay rats are big, you can stab them with a 5 tine pitch fork and have rat on both ends. Even the feral cats didn't touch these things. Well, the city police chief talked with my father about the issue. Dad came and talked with me, he was talking about the rat problem and us shooting the rats in the wood pile with .22 revolver. The people in the neighborhood were glad to see the rats dead, They were not going to cause any grief. To my surprise, the chief came back in a couple months, he called both Dad and I over to talk. He said, "I understand there has been an epidemic of 'lead poisoning' in the rat population. Keep it up." He then threw three boxes of shells. I was totally flabbergasted.
As I look at my life, I've seen some really tough times but I've some really good times, like when I get up in the morning and prove the doctor wrong.
Grumpy
Or claymores... "I'm so lazy that I have setup some remote controlled mines around here so if a deer comes close I just need to press a switch *point somewhere* look there is one"
But nice place. I like backwoods as long as post -read books, games- and electricity & net is provided. Of course learning to actually cook would be useful.
And Neffi's right- the absence of iron would be cause for alarm!
I wish I could come and visit :o)
We used to grow lots of veggies, chickens and even 2 pigs in our country house ('dacha') back in the USSR...
This has been my dream since I was a child, to have MY OWN land and the house and not to see the neighbors... I can somewhat cross the 'house' from my list as I have my own place but I did not get to the land part yet...
Also, in case of the Obama's presidency, this would be just the perfect refuge...
And, since I posted this post from the Castle - and do book reviews - your other criteria are met.
Well, except during the 1850's Kansas Living History Experience...
Now to make enough money and old & gray / senior enough to make it work.
One ride let me off inside the south end of the park, and I continued hitching north. Pretty soon a ranger (cop) came along and picked me up. He told me that firearms were strictly prohibited in the park. Then he smiled and asked me which gate I'd like to be thrown out at. So, I got a nice ride all the way up to the north gate so I could meet my friend in Gardiner.
When I was even younger I used to carry my Model 12 20 gauge across the handlebars of my bike which I rode on suburban roads in CT to go shoot skeet nearby most Fall Sundays.
Of course that was 45 years ago. What do you think would happen today if a 12 year old were to do that?
--Bill Smith
When he left, did he go to the store and steal candy bars?
When he got to the road where his vehicle was, did he take the truck parked next to his when he noticed that gas tank had more fuel?
How is this not a matter where you call the police for them to remove and cite the trespasser?
I keep trying to picture myself taking my book and chaise lounge to my neighbor's yard......or walking into someone's home and flipping through the cable channels while I sit on their temporarily unoccupied couch.......and it's not working.
So there's my, okay-your-trespasser-is-unethical point.
Next.....your trespasser is STUPID! Isn't everyone out there armed - not necessarily like yourself....just a dozen or so weapons?
I wouldn't expect two cattle-farming or horse-pasturing neighbors to ask permission to come recapture an escaped animal (they might ask for help, though), and they'd probably even repair my fence, if it was knocked over by their critter.
There's no legitimate reason to be skulking about near the house or outbuildings - if you need to do that, I would expect a knock on the door - as when we recaptured our wayward goats who had taken up residence at a farm about a mile distant.
In the urban landscape, all property usually fails on the proximity question, though I let the neighbors know it was fine to pop in the backyard to recover a toy that had made it over the fence. Just had to make sure the dogs knew everybody.
But setting up a tree stand is rather a different proposition. Whether or not the guy can read a map or GPS or follow instructions or not - that 's a clear trespass, because of the intent.
Calling the sheriff... I understand the logic of that, except what am I going to do if the guy says "Yeah, right, I'm hanging around for *that*!" and leaves? Some of this is people testing me, and I'm sure the word is getting around, but calling in law enforcement for first time offenders, especially since I'm not going to apprehend anyone to hold them for the arrival of law enforcement for simple trespass, seems overkill. Things would be different if we were experiencing a rash of rural crime or had a local meth lab problem, neither of which is currently extant.
Same thing goes for the mushroom hunters.
And there are a few people who just believe the world is their oyster and this whole private property thing is immoral. But I haven't run into them yet.
As for everybody being armed - well, maybe that's why we're all so polite to one another, generally. But, really, the key discriminators here are proximity, and intent as described by behavior. The guy was hunting, not acting like a thief or worse. I do take down the license plates of vehicles that come up and park at the end of the road, thus far mostly to hunt the next parcxel, which has no public access other than our road, and try to make contact with people, just to let them know I'm paying attention, and make sure they have permission, and to let them know where our animals are. And if they'll call the night before, we try to keep the dogs in, not always successfully, so as not to disturb the hunt.
Pavement polity is the rule here. Speed limit's scrupulously obeyed (if you round a blind corner too fast, you might waffle a pedestrian), the heavier vehicles will wave a smaller one through an intersection regardless of who's got the right-of-way, and a courtesy is always acknowledged with a wave.
Of course, everybody's also armed to the teeth....