“The first time they crossed my fence, I let it slide. The second time I filmed it. The third time they brought a drone and I brought a shotgun named Eleanor.” That’s how it started — not with shouting or threats, just a man on his own land and a line someone else thought didn’t matter. They came with clipboards and smiles, fake complaints and forged documents. They tried to buy what I wouldn’t sell. Then they tried to poison what they couldn’t buy. They didn’t know I’d been documenting everything for months. My grandfather’s land wasn’t for sale, and my patience had a limit.
“The first time they crossed my fence, I let it slide. The second time I filmed it. The third time they brought a drone and I brought a shotgun named Eleanor.” That’s how it started — not with shouting or threats, just a man on his own land and a line someone else thought didn’t…
