Horses also face threat of eviction
For 20 years, Renee Duncan has lived happily on a shady 12-acre ranch perched at the intersection of a paved street and a dirt road where cookie-cutter houses give way to rural homesteads.
“You hit that dirt road and it’s like taking a Valium,” she says with a weary smile.
But Duncan’s life could be about to change.
One day soon, deputies may shutter the ranch and evict the retired emergency room nurse, likely spelling the end of a rescue operation that has saved hundreds of neglected and abused horses.
“This is the worst thing that has ever happened to me,” she said, standing in the doorway of her near-empty house.
Like thousands of Riverside County residents, Duncan, 63, fell on hard times, refinanced and ended up with a monthly mortgage she couldn’t afford. During the housing boom, she said, her ranch was valued at $2.4 million. Now the bank says it’s worth about $345,000. She was scheduled for eviction Monday but won a last-minute delay Friday. For how long, no one knows.
Unlike others who can just pack up and leave, however, Duncan must relocate the contents of a small Noah’s Ark.
For the last week, friends and neighbors have been helping her move 50 horses, along with pigs, emus, turkeys, donkeys, goldfish, sheep, snakes and eight dogs, including a fat Chihuahua named Rose who can grin on command.
“How do you move a pig?” asked neighbor Tammy Bucker. “You push and pray.”
Duncan’s home, built in 1860, is surrounded by towering eucalyptus trees. Enormous agaves, flowering cacti and pomegranate trees dot the dirt paths leading to a cluster of barns and sheds. Animals wander freely or snooze in pens.
The horses are Duncan’s passion. “I bought my first rescue horse, an Arabian, for $400 in Chino,” she said. “It was sick and had been badly beaten.”
That was in 1988, and after rescuing more horses she set up the nonprofit Meadowbrook Animal Sanctuary and Haven.
“I did to horses what we do to humans in the emergency room,” she said.
Some were retired racehorses. Others were crippled or abandoned.
“She was operating a very well-run rescue group,” said John Welsh, spokesman for the Riverside County Department of Animal Services. “You can’t just say you love animals. You have to prove it, and she has.”
As the operation grew, so did the costs.
Then, in 2005, Duncan was diagnosed with tongue and throat cancer. Undergoing treatment, short of money and no longer working, she refinanced three times. Each time, she was charged thousands of dollars in fees.
“I once owed $100,000 on this house and paid $1,100 a month. By the time I was done refinancing, I was paying $4,200 a month at 12.5% interest,” she said.
When her cancer went into remission a year later, she retired and lived on her savings and Social Security. But that wasn’t enough to cover the mortgage and the animals, so she chose the animals.
Ocwen Financial Corp., which services her mortgage, began foreclosure proceedings.
“We begged them for more time, but they didn’t want to talk to me,” she said. “We had put together $250,000 in cash to offer them, but they won’t take less than $345,000.”
An Ocwen official said the company modified her loan twice, reduced the interest rate to 6% and worked out a special payment plan. But after receiving no payments for a year, Ocwen took the ultimate step.
“At some point we have to kick in the foreclosure process,” said Paul Koches, executive vice president of the Florida-based institution. “It is unfortunate that some of our homeowners have medical issues, but we try extremely hard to work on a case-by-case basis. In 75% of cases, we find a way to reduce payments and avoid foreclosure.”
Duncan still has a chance.
Two bidders have made offers on the house. Both say she can stay as a renter if they’re successful. But so far Ocwen has rejected the offers, said Yvonne Leonard, a Realtor representing one buyer.
A neighbor has allowed Duncan and her animals to stay on his land for the next six months.
“I know this is not optimal, but it could be worse,” she said, stepping into the cramped trailer she will soon call home. “I can still see the horses.”
Duncan walked over to the horse corrals, where the animals craned their heads to be patted.
“Nippy here was absolutely a skeleton when we got him, and now he is well-fed and healthy,” she said, burying her nose into his neck and kissing him.
She pointed out Lena, who was once headed for slaughter, and Baby Boy, who has no feeling in his hind legs.
“I can’t take any more horses now,” Duncan said. “I get calls all the time, but I have to go around with blinders on. It’s too painful to hear about them when I can’t do anything to help.”
She’s also rescued prize-winning hogs bound for the butcher and adopted two turkeys, Marlon and Merlin, who sit in her lap.
“I got them on Thanksgiving Day, and for dinner that night I fed them mashed potatoes and peas,” she said.
Right now, Duncan is struggling to hold it all together.
“I really don’t know what will happen to me,” she said. “I try not to think about it. I need to have hope.”
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