I know some people who urge everyone they know to buy a farm, the idea being a farm is the perfect place to live in our frantic, techno-driven and expensive lives.  Farms have become an almost mythic fantasy for tired people who hate their jobs, miss nature and want to live near animals. Most Americans – 90 per cent now – do not live anywhere near a farm, and that is both by choice and for reasons of economic opportunity, the availability of culture, and convenience.

The truth is, a farm is not for everybody, there are as many good reasons not to live on one as there are to buy one.

I saw one of these reasons this afternoon, when the sheep took off on Red and he and Fate took off after them driving up the hill where Maria was walking with her back turned. Normally,  the sheep will split around a human, this time, they were being pressured and were running up a dirt path.They stampeded, two of them plowed right into Maria just above the knees and sent her flying through the air.

It was a frightening to thing to see, and a painful landing for her, but she is okay. I though for sure we would end up driving to the hospital rather than the movie (Mr. Holmes) that we planned to see in Williamstown. (We loved the movie, and Maria is hardy, like Willa Cather characters.)

It is easy to forget that farms, always presented as idyllic places stuffed with animals we love (I do some of the presenting) can be dangerous, uncomfortable and expensive places. They are not nearly for everyone. Some days, they are not for me.

Any real farmer knows this, they all chuckle at romantic portrayals of farm life.

And I am no farmer, I am a writer with a farm.You will never hear a real farmer say everyone should come to the country and buy a farm, most of them would love to live where you are.

I have been to the hospital three times since I bought a farm, and had many more trips to emergency clinics and my medicine cabinet, which is full of gauze, antibiotics, arm and leg wraps. I have had a number of near death experiences, two involving falls  during bitterly cold winter storms, one when I was knocked down by a Swiss Steer, was chased by rabid raccoons and skunks, fractured my kneecap in a fall on the ice. I was hurt when aggressive rams came after me,  and bowled over several times when Rose or some other border collie drove a flock of sheep into me.

A barn cat up the hill bit me 30 times in my right arm, which swelled up like a big red balloon.

I’ve been buried by snow avalanches off of barns, fallen off of haystacks, had giant splinters pulled out of my hands, sliced open my hands on barbed wire,  slid down slippery hills on my butt, been lost in the woods more than once, fallen twice out of hay piles in the upper floors of barns. I got frostbitten in three toes and two fingers when a donkey dragged me up the hill in -20 temperatures while I tried to give her a shot in her butt for an infection. I slid off a roof twice trying to clear big snow drifts. I am no hero, but I have learned to be very careful.

I always have band-aids around and tetanus shots are not optional for me.

I don’t share these stories to complain, I Iove my life and I love my farm,  but I’m not going to fantasize or emotionalize about life on a farm.  They are easy to buy and hard to sell. They are dirty and fragile. It is good to be thoughtful about fantasies.

I put up a lot of pretty photos of farms and neat animals, but it is also important to point out that farms are generally not pretty or easy, and rarely sylvan or idyllic. Those are what I call Vermont calendar farms, you will not see many of them where I live.

If you live on a farm for any length of time, you will get hurt. And you will shovel a lot of manure, brushhog a lot of ground, repair a lot of holes in various roofs, fix a lot of latches and fences. I can’t climb on rooftops any more, so I am always urging Maria to be careful. She is strong and agile but sometimes, I think, a bit careless, even macho. She denies this.

Livestock like sheep and donkeys and ponies are large and sometimes unpredictable. Even the most docile animals can get spooked or confused, it is important to remember that they are animals, not cute versions of people. You have to stay alert, I am almost knocked down every day during sheepherding lessons. I shudder to even think about what breaking a leg or tearing a ligament would mean around here. The odds are good.

I have learned how to stay alert and move fast.

Maria was very lucky today, she got hit  hard and knocked far, she could easily have broken a bone or a ligament. We love the animals here and trust them, but both of us are daydreamers, we have our heads up our asses half the time. I am apt to be thinking of a blog post or photo and she is always thinking of the art she is going to make. Maria lives out of her head, and if she sees an interesting rock or twig or flower, she pulls out her cell phone camera and forgets the world around her. Vigilance is not a natural state for either of us.

I tried to give her a safety lecture today, but she laughed and blew me off.

We both agreed we had to be careful, especially around a farm with a work-mad puppy who has not yet learned to stay still for too long or give me her full attention. We are working on it. Don’t let anybody tell you that farms are for everyone. They are great things, for some people – for me and Maria – but don’t let anyone tell you it is something we all must do.

When it’s a good fit, you will know it. If you like to have movies and restaurants and snow plows for  hire nearby, stay where you are, and count your blessings.