“Not since this morning,” I said.

“He thinks he can just ignore the certified letter I sent him.”

Dale reached into the box and took out one of the heavy yellow plates.

POSTED was printed across the top in thick black capitals, with blank white space underneath for my name and address.

“He won’t be ignoring these,” Dale said.

“Where are we starting?”

“The south line, where he put his chain lock,” I said.

We hiked up the south fence trail as the afternoon light started to fade behind the bare tops of the oaks.