This would be a Pit-worthy tale, had the situation not resolved itself quickly, and to my satisfaction.
A bit of background for anyone who doesn’t hang out in the MMP threads: a month ago, I moved in to a 1 acre hobby farm in northeast North Carolina, away from the urban bustle of SE Virginia. It’s quiet and in the middle of nowhere, and I have yet to find a disadvantage to it, despite having to deal with vermin, brushfires, septic tanks, and other perils of rural life.
I came home from work Monday, and VunderWife was hopping mad. I asked what happened, and she said that all day long, she had to put up with a semi tanker in the yard and a lot of farm equipment, all right next to the house. They even blocked the driveway with the tanker, so she couldn’t get out.
WTF? 
My property is surrounded on 3 sides by a 20ish acre cotton field, and the growers all over the county are out spraying pesticide to control the boll weevils. Sounded to me like the farmer set up a spraying operation in my yard.
A little more background. I haven’t measured my property, nor have I bothered to read the legal description, so I don’t know the exact size, but the land is about 200’ deep, and 400’ or so wide. I have a lot of open area, even though I have 5 different outbuildings along with the house. At the north end is a second driveway across the roadside ditch, and the farmer uses that with some regularity to get into the same field in question. There’s plenty of room to park (and turn) an 18 wheeler with a 40’ tank, and still get tractors in to transfer chemicals.
My neighbor Fred, an old and very cool black guy who reminds me of Grampa from the comic strip Boondocks, called my wife to explain what was going on, and said they shouldn’t be doing that next to the house because they know better. They were the hired hands, and would pull anything they could get away with. My wife thanked him, and went outside to confront the tanker driver (he was the first to arrive). Said driver was there about 45 minutes before the rest showed, and he racked out in his cab with his feet hanging out the window. We still don’t know if he was asleep, or pointedly ignoring her, but he never acknowledged her. Couple that with her ability to be a shrinking violet with anyone else but me, and you can see where nothing was accomplished.
So, I caught the brunt of her ire and frustration, and it got me worked up. Being new and not knowing everybody in the country neighborhood yet, I had to do a little detective work to find out the name of the farmer who has the field, then I paid him a visit.
George Mack (two names in stereotypical Southern style) turned out to be a real nice guy, and he was absolutely appalled that his hired hands set up shop 30 feet from my house. He promised me that he’d chew some tail with the guys involved. He confirmed to me just about everything that neighbor Fred said about the slacker farmhands, and told me before I could say anything that they were supposed to be at the other drive at the north end. We talked some more, and even agreed to give us a courtesy call the next time his guys are in the field, because my stupid and psychotic dog loves to run in his field. This way, we can keep her inside when they’re working.
His guys have complete freedom to do what they have to do on my property, so long as there’s a building between them and the house. If they’re between the buildings and the house, they’re tresspassing.
I went back home and told VunderWife everything that was said. One more spraying is due in October, just before the harvest. I don’t expect this to happen again, but if it does, if she’s in a good mood, call the sheriff and have the slackers hauled off for tresspassing. If she’s in a bad mood, well, that’s why the 12 ga. is loaded… 