A number of years ago my wife and I built a beautiful log house on Old Ranch Road in Park City, Utah. Silver Creek flowed behind us through our six acres of property. I had some great days fly fishing that little creek and we protected it with “No Trespassing” signs and fences.
One particular 4th of July we had invited our next door neighbors over for brunch on our deck overlooking the river. We were enjoying ourselves when we noticed a trespassing fisherman climbing the fence onto our property.
“No trespassing…can’t you read?” I shouted to the fisherman. He just shrugged his shoulders and continued along the creek on our property. I called out again “Get the hell off my property!” This guy was a typical bait fisherman with a large mid-section, a noticeable limp, crummy apparel and a spinning rod.
I climbed down the steps from our deck and hollered again, “I’m coming to throw you off my property personally.” I headed out into the pasture towards him and grabbed a shovel when I passed my irrigation ditch. As I neared the trespassing fisherman he tore off his hat, fake mustache and pulled the stuffing out of his shirt.
I was just about to grab him by the neck and throw him to the ground. “Peterson…it’s me!” the intruder called out. Turns out he was also a neighbor and a friend who I had fished with many times in Utah, Idaho and Montana. He knew from my rage and the look in my eyes that death was a possibility. Of course, I was also six inches taller and outweighed him by 75 pounds. This was a prank he’d definitely avoid in the future.
Jan Peterson
