Salt of the Earth
I grew up on a horse ranch in Colorado. We had a long piece of property, about 80 acres, and we raised Missouri fox trotters. We had lived there for almost 20 years when some folks bought a strip of property way at the back of our land. It was a strange plot of land as it was very narrow, and was sandwiched between our back fence, and a busy county road. We were surprised anyone would buy it actually, as it forced the house to be pretty close to said road.
Well we never meet these new neighbors until one day my dad gets a notice from a lawyer telling us that after having surveyed the property lines, our back fence encroaches on their property between 3 and 6 inches depending on the spot along the fence line. These folks had never met us, never introduced themselves, our first introduction was this legal demand.
My father was a salt of the earth kind of man, very kind, but also very strong-willed. He called these folks, arranged a meetup, and tried to talk some sense into them. First did 3 to 6 inches really matter that much, and why had they not come to us to talk it through? He even offered a number of different compromises. These folks were hostile from the get-go. They demanded he move the fence immediately, or they would sue. Apparently the law stated they had to put their house so far away from our fence line, and they wanted to push it as far back from the road as they could when they built it, so they wanted that 6 inches very badly.
I still remember when my dad got home from the meeting. He hung his hat up and shook his head when he told my mom in his slow way.
“Well looks like we got the kinda folks for neighbors you don’t ever want to have for neighbors.”
They sued, and won, and we were forced to move the fence in 2 weeks. I say we because I was the free labor as all farm kids are in this kind of thing. All that fencing material, and the time, were a big cost for my family. But we got the work done in early spring.
Here is where the fun comes in… So the new neighbors broke ground and built all through the end of winter and into spring. The very next weekend after they had moved into their house, Dad rousted me out of bed and we took the big truck into town to the lumber yard. I was extremely puzzled as we loaded up a bunch of fencing material, and building supplies. We didn’t have any big projects going that I knew about, and I kept asking him what it was for, but he just told me to wait and see with a devilish smile on his face.
We build a pen and a small enclosure very near our back property line, directly behind the neighbor’s new shiny house. The next day one of our farm friends delivered a half dozen pigs.
Dad insisted on feeding those hogs table scraps and all the things that would go in the composter, as well as some good balanced hog feed to keep them healthy.
Now you may not know this, but the smell of pig excrement is directly related to what they eat, and their pen. Table scraps make them smell BAD. I mean BAAAAAAD. I had to drive the four-wheeler back there every day to take care of them, and within a month halfway there and my eyes would start watering it smelled so bad. When we mucked out the pen we also made the pile right next to the pen. I can’t even imagine how bad the smell was living in that house.
The neighbors, of course, freaked out, and again without ever even trying to talk to us, went the legal route. They lost, the area was zoned agricultural, and my dad had done his homework to make sure he was breaking now laws or regulations.
When winter moved in, we sold the pigs and dad stacked up a bunch of building supplies next to the pen and let the neighbors know we would be expanding our pig pen in the spring when they came out to scream at him. He smiled the whole time, speaking in his slow steady way.
The new neighbors sold their new house in January when the ground was frozen and the new owners would not smell the pen. Though as soon as the old neighbors were gone we tore down the enclosure, spread the nasty stuff on the hayfield, and the new neighbors never had any bad smell come spring.
Never mess with a rancher…
Story credit: Reddit / drumbubba