I hear you. Most of my neighbors mind their own business and let me mind mine, so we get along just great.
On occasion I’ve had to notify them their siblings were peppering my metal roof with their birdshot or finding an explained bullet hole in my barn siding as they practiced their hunting skills. They usually take me out of their line of fire and I go on minding my business.
Likewise on occasion, neighbors will call to ask if I know the source of those automatic gunfire bursts or the random bursts of a bottle rockets that come out of nowhere and echo through the neighborhood at night.
And people are always finding their mailboxes and road signs nicked or riddled by bullets after a wild weekend night. But the ultimate indignity is when someone shoots your dog or tears down the fence and does donuts in your yard.
I thank God, I live in one of the better neighborhoods down here in Texas. We have a clear understanding and appreciation among us that an armed neighborhood is a friendly neighborhood. Just fire a shot and they’ll come running.
Oh, when I lived in Asbury Park, NJ, I’d often find bullet holes in my car as I left the radio station I worked in. Not birdshot, though!