Gail Prescott called state wildlife officers on me for fishing in my own lake. Stood right there on the boat ramp in her pressed white blouse, arms crossed, chin up, watching two uniformed officers walk toward me like she'd ordered room service. I was on my grandfather's dock, rod in hand, line in the water, same spot I'd fished every Saturday morning for 30 years. She didn't wait for them to speak first. This man has been poaching from our lake for months.
She said it loud enough for the whole shoreline to hear. He knows the rules. He doesn't care. I want him removed and I want charges filed. One of the officers looked at me.
I didn't move. Gail kept going, pointed at my stringer, pointed at my tackle box, pointed at me like I was evidence. He's not a member. He has no right to be here. He has no right to touch this water.
She turned to the lead officer, lowered her voice just enough to sound reasonable. I've documented everything. This is trespassing. This is theft of HOA resources. I want him in handcuffs or off this property today.
The officer looked at my stringer, looked at the dock, looked back at Gail. Then he did something she absolutely did not expect. But I need to go back to the beginning. My grandfather bought the land in 1972. 12 acres of Midwest dirt timber and one spring-fed lake sitting right in the middle about 3 acres of clean cold water that never went dry, never went muddy, and never belonged to anyone but him.
He built the dock himself. Pine boards, cedar posts, a railing he never got around to finishing. That dock was where I caught my first bluegill, where he taught me to tie a clinch knot, where he sat with me the summer my parents split up and didn't say a word for 2 hours because he knew I didn't need words. I needed water and quiet. When he passed, he left the whole parcel to me.
I moved back full-time, fixed the house, kept the dock, kept fishing. For a long time that was enough. The neighborhood came later. In 2005, a developer bought the farmland surrounding my grandfather's parcel and built a planned community, 82 homes ringing the lake like teeth around a mouth. Paved roads, matching mailboxes, HOA covenant, the whole package.
The marketing brochures were slick. Aerial photos of the lake with text underneath, your private community amenity, lakeside living at its finest. There was just one problem with that brochure. The lake wasn't theirs to sell. My property was never part of the subdivision plat.
I was here first by 33 years. I never signed the CC&Rs. I never joined the HOA. I never agreed to a single one of their bylaws. As far as the county was concerned, I was a separate parcel that happened to sit in the middle of a neighborhood that grew up around me.
For the first few years, nobody cared. The developer never said a word about the lake. Neighbors would wave. A couple of them asked if they could fish off the far bank. I said, "Sure. " It was friendly.
It was fine. Then, Gail Prescott got elected. Gail became HOA president 4 years before the morning she called those wildlife officers. And from day one, she ran that board like it was a municipal government and she was the mayor. New rules every quarter.
Fines for trash cans visible from the street. Fines for the wrong shade of beige on a front door. Letters about lawn height measured to the quarter inch. She had a clipboard. She had letterhead.
She had a tone that made everything sound like a final warning. I stayed out of it. None of it applied to me. I wasn't in the HOA. Then, one Tuesday afternoon, I came home and found an envelope tucked into my screen door.
HOA letterhead. Bold red border. The word violation across the top. Resident at 11:40 Lakeview Lane is in violation of HOA Bylaw 14.3. No fishing, swimming, or boating is permitted in the community lake.
Cease immediately or a fine of $250 will be assessed. I read it twice. Then I read it a third time. I had been fishing that lake since before half the people in this neighborhood were born. Before the neighborhood existed.
Before the HOA existed. And now someone was telling me I was in violation of their rules on my property? I walked over to Gail's house that evening. Rang the doorbell. She answered like she'd been expecting me.
"Ms. Prescott, I got your notice. I think there's been a misunderstanding. That lake is on my land. " She smiled. Not warm.
Patient. The way you smile at someone who doesn't understand how things work. "Mr. Anderson, the lake is an HOA amenity. It's maintained by the association.
It's governed by our bylaws. Fishing is prohibited. That's just how it is. " "My grandfather owned that lake before your subdivision existed. " "Things change," she said. "The community has rules now. If you'd like to discuss it, you're welcome to attend the next board meeting. " "But the notice stands.