(Post # 11) My First House/Pet Sitting Role: Chickens, Geese, Cats, and a City Girl on a Farm
When you think of retirement, you probably imagine leisurely mornings, a warm cup of coffee, and maybe a stroll through a quiet park. Well, my first housesitting gig replaced that with geese, chickens, cats, and a farm called Whisperhill—because apparently, I thought it was a good idea to trade in my condo life for the rustic charm of farm chores.
The adventure began as I drove up to Whisperhill, a place that looked like it was straight out of a pastoral painting. The property was nestled among towering trees, with manicured gardens, vineyards, and even a couple of waterfalls—because why not? It was all so picturesque that I almost forgot I was about to become the caretaker of two geese, three chickens, and two cats. Almost.
Wanda, who also doubled as my daughter’s landlord, welcomed me warmly and immediately started showing me around. As we walked through her stunning property, I met the geese, who, to my surprise, weren’t exactly thrilled to see me. Okay, they hissed at me like I was some kind of intruder—which, to be fair, I was. Then came the chickens, who ran towards us like they were auditioning for a poultry version of "The Fast and the Furious."
But the real stars of the show were the cats—two indoor divas who had no idea what was about to hit them. Wanda’s instructions were simple: let the geese and chickens out in the morning, feed them, and make sure they’re safely tucked away at night. The cats, on the other hand, were indoor royalty who only ventured out during the day. It all sounded straightforward enough, but I was beginning to realize that I might have underestimated the whole “farm life” thing.
After a whirlwind tour, Wanda turned to me and said, “My home is yours. Enjoy it.” And with that, she handed over the keys and left me to figure out the finer points of farm management —like how to avoid getting pecked to death by a goose.
The next morning, I woke up early, ready to tackle my new responsibilities. I put on a pair of Wanda’s farm shoes, which were conveniently by the door, and headed out to release the geese and chickens. As I approached the gate, I remembered Wanda’s advice: “When approaching the geese, make yourself look big and show them who’s boss.” Easy enough, right?
Well, not quite. The geese spotted me and started honking like they were leading a protest. My first instinct was to try reasoning with them—because that’s how all the great farmers do it, right? I sweetly told them I had their food and asked them to be nice. They responded by charging at me like a couple of angry linebackers.
In a moment of pure survival instinct, I unlatched the gate, tossed the food, and bolted back to safety, slamming the gate shut just in time. Victory! Well, sort of. The chicken coop had an automatic pop-hole door on a timer, but it was broken, so I had to go back and open it manually, remembering to close it in the evening. With the geese distracted by their feast, I slipped in and out unnoticed. The chickens, ever the orderly ones, filed out one by one. I spread their feed and made my exit. As I caught my breath, it hit me—this was going to be a very long month... and Wanda hadn’t even left yet.
But despite the chaos, I couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement. I was doing something completely new, completely out of my comfort zone—and I was loving it. Who knew that running from geese could be so exhilarating?
Sure, farm life was proving to be a bit more challenging than I’d expected, but I was determined to master it. After all, if I could handle a beach resort on fire, I could definitely handle a couple of geese. Right?
The Geese
Next: Post 12 The Geese, the Log Fire, and my Family: Adventures in Farm Survival
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