” And you believe there is no recorded easement granting them access across your southern boundary? I know there isn’t. I checked the deed twice. She was quiet for a moment. Technically speaking, if there is no recorded easement and no prescriptive easement established through a longer statutory period, you have the right to restrict access to your land.
What is the statutory period in this state? 20 years of continuous adverse use. They’ve had five, then they do not yet have a legal claim. But Eli, she added carefully, blocking access to an entire residential community will escalate this quickly. I looked at the six stumps lined up like headstones. Good, I said.
The fencing company worked fast. Maybe too fast. Word travels in small counties, especially when money is involved. By Monday morning, steel posts were sunk deep into the ground, chain link stretched tight, and a heavyduty gate installed squarely across the asphalt where it crossed onto my property. It was not subtle, 8 ft tall, industrial, the kind of fence you see around construction sites and impound lots.
I stood there as they bolted the lock into place. The metallic click echoed more than I expected. You sure about this? The crew lead asked. Not even a little, I said. But do it anyway. They left around 3:00 in the afternoon. For about an hour, nothing happened. Then, right around 4:30, the first SUV rolled down the hill.
A silver Range Rover with tinted windows. It slowed, stopped in front of the fence, then idled. I could see the driver’s silhouette, phone already pressed to his ear. 5 minutes later, another car pulled up behind him. Then another. Within 20 minutes, there was a line of luxury vehicles backed up along the ridge road like a high-end parking lot with nowhere to go.
My phone started vibrating in my pocket before the sun dipped behind the trees that were no longer there. Unknown number. I let it ring twice before answering. What the hell do you think you’re doing? Daniel Whitmore did not sound smooth anymore. standing on my property. I said, “You cannot block the only access road to Cedar Ridge.” “Actually, I can.
There is no recorded easement. This is outrageous. People are trying to get home.” I glanced at the small convoy of frustration beyond the fence. “That must be inconvenient. You’re being petty.” I felt something shift in my chest at that word. “Petty would have been a complaint letter, Daniel.
This is called property rights.” There was a sharp exhale on the other end. We are prepared to compensate you fairly for the misunderstanding regarding the trees. You mean the trees you cut down without verifying ownership? It was an honest mistake. 640year-old trees is not a typo. Silence again. He recalibrated. If you do not remove that fence immediately, we will pursue legal action.
I already spoke to my attorney. I suggest you do the same. He hung up. That night, social media did what social media does. Someone in Cedar Ridge posted a photo of the fence in the neighborhood group. By dinnertime, it had spilled into the county community page. Half the comments called me a hero. The other half called me unstable.
Mara scrolled through them while sitting at my kitchen counter eating takeout Chinese. “You’re trending,” she said. “Fantastic. Maybe I’ll start a podcast.” Underneath the sarcasm, though, I felt something else creeping in. Not guilt, not exactly, but awareness. There were families up there, kids, people who had nothing to do with the decision to cut my trees.
