Housesitting in Portland





Helvetia, Oregon 

September 10th - 17th, 2016 

 

 

                 

Over the past few years, we have been paying a lot of attention to people who are finding interesting and alternative ways to live and travel.  The idea of housesitting for vacation kept surfacing in our searches.  The concept is that families, especially those with beloved pets, who need to leave their home for a period of time, are paired up with families that want to visit that same city on vacation.  It is a smart and resourceful idea.  The homeowners get a watchful eye on their homes and special attention paid to their pets by people who come with references and reviews through the housesitting website.  The vacationing families get a free place to lodge as long as they take care of the pets.  Although the website we used,  Trusted Housesitters does come with a $100 annual membership fee, but this seems to add some legitimacy to the homeowners and the potential housesitters. 

The housesitting sites are most commonly used by retired couples or frequently traveling singles.  For this reason, although I have always been in love with the concept, I didn't see it as a realistic option for our family.  Seriously, if a family is willing to pay the $100 membership fee to seek out this type of housesitter, who are they going to choose?  The sweet retired couple with dozens of site reviews, or this wild bunch of five?  Even so...we decided we needed to at least give it a shot. 

Since we had a full five weeks in front of us on this trip, with no real agenda in mind, we did, at least, have a ton of flexibility of housesits we could apply for.  Imagine my surprise, then, at being accepted for the very first housesit that we did apply for in a city we actually did want to visit!  There was a sweet little farm just outside of Portland Oregon that needed someone to take care of a cute little terrier, two cats, 8 ducks, 50 chickens and 5 roosters.  Honestly, I think we were selected primarily for the number of hands we had.  A few of them may be pretty small, but ten hands make for much lighter work.  This was a great opportunity for us, because it allowed us to get our foot in the door and get a review under our belt, paving the way for other potential homeowners that wouldn't otherwise consider us.





 I honestly had no idea what to really expect, but I suspect we have been very spoiled on our first gig.  The house was beautiful and the location was nothing short of magical.  The pets, even the chickens, were the sweetest things.  The work was so satisfying and it was very special to see our kids stepping up to the plate, pridefully taking responsibility.  I was a very proud mama to see them.  In the end, I was proud of all of us, caring for that family in every possible way.

The things I don't want to forget...

Each morning, I would wake around dawn and walk out to the roost.  My feet would make quiet swishing sounds as I made my way through the tall grass.  The roost, obscured by fog, would eventually appear through the mist.  The impatient crow of the roosters and clucking of the hens greeting me as  I climbed over the fence to let them out to play.  The hens would eye me with expectation as I released the locks from the hen house to let them out.  I had expected a bustle of feathers and frenzied feet , but I would smile, pleasantly surprised at the pecking order that required they vacate in the predetermined orderly fashion.  One particular hen, my favorite of the flock, would always jump onto the bar and wait, like a watchful sentinel, as the others made their way to the feed.  At that point, I became entirely irrelevant to them.  A mere spectator that had already served my purpose in their day.  I could quietly watch them as they made their way, occasionally smiling at the few who would peck at the stray chicken feed on the tops of my boots. 
 

   
 

                                              
We loved watching our two youngest children diligently checking the nesting boxes for eggs.  Collecting them while they were still clean and warm.  Beautiful blues and speckled browns filling the cartons.    It was a sweet thing to watch Dizzy in the duck house, priding himself on being able to change the water by himself, filling the food trays and tempting them with scratch in hand.  Giggling at the funny way they would chase themselves around the fence.  Ivy reading quietly to herself in the swing.  The sound of their laughter coming through the trees while they played on Tom's ingenious three seater hammock-swing. Dizzy snuggling up to kitties in a field of butter colored flowers.  The cats sitting in my lap while I worked. Eating dinner together on the porch at sunset each night and reading with Tom afterwards. Walking back to shut the hens in their roost at dusk, the horizon purple to the west and the city lights spread out down the hillside to the east.  The waning cluck of the brood as I walked away for the night.  The soft swish of the kitten's tails as they followed me back to the house each evening, also ready to be put to bed. The glow from the windows before I finally went back inside, knowing that indeed, all the lovely things were safe for the night.
 
  

 

  

 

 
                                      

 
                                      

 

        

 

 
And oddly, I don't ever want to forget the moment that Olive put the family puppy, Chewy, back into its kennel for the very last time.  The way Chewy knew the difference between saying goodbye for the day and saying goodbye for good.  Olive's sweet tears as she walked away from the dog's tiny whimper.  Tears that showed she really loved a thing.  Good tears.

This was, hands down, the most relaxing time on vacation I have ever spent.  It was like actually trying on a new life for a week.  There were so many things we want to take away from it.  We might actually consider a few chickens.  I think we all want a sweet outdoor cat to call our own.  But mostly,  I want a place where my kids have that much freedom to roam.  The way I did with my sisters, a child on a farm.