The wilds of country living

I spent my morning wandering through the countryside in awe of all the early springtime life—from baby alpaca in White Sulfur Springs to tiny puffballs of woolly lambs dotting a mountainside in Lake Huntington.

These are some of the things that convinced me to settle here in the first place. But it’s often a mixed challenge coming from urban areas.

Since I am a country Realtor, it is my job to read a dirt road map and educate the country bound. Every one wants to escape the noise of the city but there are those who just go into shock with the “desolate wilderness of Narrowsburg.”

One day last summer, I was walking some land when a rather large bear stepped out from behind a rock. He was just as startled as I was. Now, I know not to look a bear in the eye and to walk slowly away. But the nice couple following close behind me had a much different reaction. After a few “wows,” they tried to walk towards the bear. I stopped them, reminding them that Yogi and Boo Boo really don’t live here in New York and showed them back to the cars. They looked at me as though I was nuts and that bear was just a country Realtor prop to lure them into signing on that dotted line. That was a two Excedrin PM night.

I usually can tell what kind of buyer I have at first meeting. One weekend I had an appointments I just couldn’t quite figure out. The buyer was a real nice first-timer who was retiring from some form of law enforcement career. On his wish list was privacy, no neighbors, quiet end-of-road setting and plenty of wildlife. Best yet, he was not afraid of a challenge.

“I have a secluded little charmer that is cosmetically challenged,” I said.

“Fine,” he said, “I’m in. Let’s go.”

I knew I was in trouble when he pulled out some maps from his virtual maps computer program. We crossed the bridge over the Delaware and moved forward two dirt roads to the left and one to the right until our goal was in sight.

“One log sided cabin coming right up,” I said as I drove over a fallen tree branch left over from winter. I glanced at the buyer who looked a little bit pale as he listened to the crunching noises under the jeep. I stopped, turned off the engine and waited.

“What is all of that noise?” he asked. Just little frogs I told him.

“I’m not seeing the streetlights. How about public transportation, what about garbage pick up? Oh, and are there animals here?” I chuckled to myself, knowing how lucky it is just to have roads on this side of the bridge.

“I just want to be sure,” I said in my most professional sounding voice. “Didn’t you say this morning that you wanted absolute seclusion? You asked for private. Well now here we have it.”

The buyer just shook his head. In his lifetime of law enforcement, I’m sure that he has faced deadly criminals, shootouts and maybe even rioting in the streets. Surely he can handle country.

I led as we approached the house—the Realtor always goes first. I hit the step and a woodchuck darted out from beneath it.

“Woo …Stand back miss,” He shouted in a very official voice. He had some form of weapon on his waist. “Look at the size of that rat!”

“Put it down,” I shouted back, a little bit exasperated. “That’s not a rat, that’s a woodchuck. In all my years in this profession I never remember one attacking anyone.”

“Okay,” he said, a bit shaken, “Enough with the country. I’m going back to the city were I know what to shoot at.”

And so it goes. I lost a sale, yet spared the life of the local woodchuck.

I agreed and brought him back to civilization.