Solitude in the Sagebrush : Antelope Acres: Residents fear that development threatens the tiny community’s rural lifestyle.

From the DWP employee to the pastor’s wife, from the “Birdlady” to the Army veteran, the residents of the tiny high desert community of Antelope Acres all tell a similar story.

“We love it. It’s a nice change,” said Cindy Dobbins, whose husband is pastor of the only church in town and who moved here from Eagle Rock. “It’s quiet and peaceful. In the city, it was nothing but hustle-bustle.”

“I like my space and my solitude,” echoed Alice Noera, who has turned her home and small plot of land into an extraordinary bird sanctuary.

One visitor shared the enthusiasm. “It’s great,” said David Eversull, while hanging out in the local market. An 11-year-old from Lancaster, David loves to visit his grandfather in Antelope Acres and work with farm animals. “I helped my grandfather deliver a baby sheep. People would think you’re crazy if they see you doing that in the city.”

The object of this affection certainly doesn’t look like much. Antelope Acres is a collection of about 400 frame cottages and newer stucco homes scattered over endless sagebrush about 12 miles northwest of central Lancaster. It could be the location for a bleak, desert “road” movie. A stiff wind hurls tumbleweed across the main street, the side streets are paved with dirt, and the gas station is boarded up, its pumps long dry.

The market is the only store in town and there is one restaurant--a coffee shop was recently replaced by the El Jaliciense Mexican eatery.

Antelope Acres is one of a dying breed of communities in Los Angeles County that still offer an unadulterated rural lifestyle. For its residents, that is attraction enough. “Anybody you ask here, they’re satisfied,” said Paul Simon, a veteran of four wars who has lived in the community for 20 years. “How many have I seen who’ve moved away and come back?”

The rustic setting has always been Antelope Acres’ selling point. “It was advertised as rural living,” Max Nash, one of the original residents and now a realtor in Lancaster, said of the community’s early days.

It was developed by Harvey B. Bagley, a businessman from the Southwest who made his fortune in oil leases. In 1948, he acquired about 2,000 acres of Antelope Valley sagebrush and set about dividing it into five-acre lots. Prospective buyers were tempted with offers of “You Finish” homes--frame cottages with rudimentary plumbing and wiring and no interior fixtures that tenants were invited to complete. “They appealed to people who didn’t have a lot of money but wanted to buy a home and live in a rural area,” said Nash, who bought his “You Finish” for $3,000.

In recent years, the houses have become a little more grandiose. Several two-story stucco homes have been built, some worth in the neighborhood of $250,000. The lots have been divided further--down to 2 1/2 acres and, in some cases, 1 1/4. But that still leaves plenty of room for people to keep horses, raise farm animals and enjoy other trappings of rural life.

“It was for my kids that I got away,” said Judy Fuentes, who moved to Antelope Acres from Highland Park three years ago but still commutes to her job with the Department of Water and Power in Los Angeles. “They have animals here and they learn a different way of life. My son raised a sheep for 4H.”

Antelope Acres offers the quirkiness of other isolated communities. Homes have names such as “Big Deal Ranch” and “Fat Chance Ranch” and weather-beaten locals clad in plaid shirts and baseball caps while away the hours at the market, sipping coffee and swapping gossip. “This is where people get all their information,” said Linda Heath, the salesclerk.

Perhaps the most notable character is Noera, known as “The Birdlady of Antelope Valley.” On a recent afternoon, the retired schoolteacher’s “Nil Desperandum Sanctuary” was home to everything from peacocks and ravens to ducks and a red-tailed hawk. Many of the refugees are chicks found abandoned in the area and referred to Noera by the local county animal shelter. Some are injured, older birds. “Quite a few never learn to fly again,” Noera said. “There are also quite a few freeloaders.”

The “Birdlady” is also one of Antelope Acres’ activists, dedicated to preserving the community’s ambience. These days, as the orbit of suburban Lancaster inches ever closer, that is becoming an increasingly difficult task.

While crime is still relatively rare, locals grumble about having to lock their doors. “It’s just because there are a few more houses, a few more people,” said Bob Miracle, one of the five members of the recently formed Town Council. “I did have a burglary because I didn’t lock them.” In a report listing three burglaries, a rape and four cases of vandalism during the first quarter of this year, the community newsletter warned, “So you think your (sic) completely safe here in Antelope Acres, think again!”

Another concern is development. When a mini-mart was proposed for the empty lot opposite her home, Noera launched a petition drive against it. “We don’t need more alcohol,” she said. “Everybody agrees with me there.” A billboard advertising the mini-mart still stands on the lot, but the opening date has been blanked out.

A bigger threat is immediately south of town. There, on 885 acres of land annexed to Lancaster, Larwin Co. of Encino plans to build more than 2,000 tract homes. While the Del Sur Ranch project was approved by the Lancaster City Council in 1990, it is now on hold pending approval of a revised plan that includes a proposal to create a lake on the property.

A few Antelope Acres residents talk of benefits such as increased property values, but most--including the entire Town Council--are adamantly opposed to the development. “That’s what I was trying to get away from,” said Fuentes, who is also a council member. “Why do they want to do it out here? Why can’t they have cities with cities? They’re going to want lights and sidewalks. They’re not going to want to have animals. Our animals are going to offend them. They’re going to make us change. I feel angry.”

If the development is built, Antelope Acres “would change dramatically,” said Miracle, a retired construction worker. “It would probably end up being like Northridge or something.”

Noera said she is confident that a combination of local opposition and doubts over the project’s economic viability will thwart the Del Sur Ranch developers. “I think it won’t really happen before I die,” she said. But she added mournfully: “I’m really concerned about all the things building up here. It won’t be a good life for people.”