We Just Moved to a Rural Town. Can We Tell Our Weird Neighbor to Leave Us Alone?

My girlfriend and I recently moved into a rural area, where we don’t have many close neighbors and are about a half hour’s drive to the nearest town. We came here for solitude and to work on some personal projects, and also to try living off the grid and as eco-friendly as we possibly can. We both work remotely and have internet, so we are at home or working on the property most of the time.

However, we have a neighbor who lives about a mile away, and he seems to have decided that if we’re home, we’re around to talk, even if it’s mid-afternoon and we explain that we’re working. This wouldn’t be the biggest problem, but the issue is that he’s… eccentric. He’s probably 60 or so, and has some odd beliefs about, among other things, his own theories of astrology that he talks about for ages. It doesn’t sound that bad when I write it down, but in person, he sounds completely unhinged and it’s made us uncomfortable. We’re vulnerable out here, security-wise, and it’s alarming to have a neighbor who, to put it nicely, lives in a different reality but seems to have developed an attachment to us. Is there a good way to set boundaries to explain that we want him to leave us alone? At what point should we worry about safety?

As someone who’s lived in various woods, with various woodsy neighbors, this situation is entirely familiar to me. Sometimes it feels like eccentric people are just another species in the forest. You have your bears, your fish, your conspiracy theorists in hand-built log houses, your couples who move into cabins and install solar panels. That is to say, eccentric is relative, and your neighbor probably thinks you’re the weird ones. If he’s open to a basic level of neighborliness, and he seems to be stable and well-intentioned, I think the wisest and kindest response would be for you to be open to the same.

How do you tell if he’s stable and well-intentioned? Try to trust your instincts without jumping to judgment based on the sheer weirdness of the situation—which is hard, I know. Does your neighbor seem to ignore boundaries and personal space? Does he come over drunk, or angry? Has he ever expressed threats or aggression toward you or other people? Or does he just drop by sometimes to, say, offer some weed, and let you know that the moon is lined up with Jupiter in such a way that you should expect a lot of frogs to cross your path in the next week?

If it’s the former—well, I’d certainly keep your space from him, and you should try to do so delicately, without any sign of outward discomfort. You don’t want to have a conflict with this guy, and luckily, so far, he seems to like you. But I suspect that trying to set explicit boundaries (i.e. “Please don’t come here”) would just piss him off. Instead, if he drops by, pretend not to be home. You could also consider upping your security measures. Even a few camera traps can tell you a lot about who’s creeping at your place, and anyway, even if there’s no threat of intruders at all, game cams are a fun way to keep an eye on wildlife.

But if your neighbor’s vibe is strange without being threatening—uncomfortable but not aggressive—then your best bet really is to make peace with the situation. For one thing, your weird neighbor is almost more of a security feature than a security threat. When you’re living remotely, your neighbors are some of your closest allies. They’ll let you know if a car is skulking around your place or going up and down the road. In a storm, fire, or any sort of emergency, they’ll be there to help far more quickly than any authorities from the nearest town. They’re your first line of assistance if you’re injured, or if your firewood runs low in January. And, as both etiquette and human decency demand, you should be there for them in those situations, too. There’s no question. That’s how rural life works.

As for the fact that your neighbor comes by midday to chat and doesn’t understand that you’re working, I offer a simple solution. When he stops by during your work hours, answer the door while holding a phone to your head. Say something like, “Yes, I completely agree about the changes. I’ll have it back to you by four.” Mouth sorry. “No, I can’t do three. I have another call then. Just a second. It’s my neighbor. Yeah, yeah. One second.” Cover the phone with your hand. “Hey, what’s up? I can’t really talk, I’m on a work call.” Roll your eyes, to suggest that you, too, would rather be talking about moon frogs. Odds are that your neighbor will wander away, relieved that he’s not trapped like you are. And after a few encounters like this, he’ll get the sense that you are—during the day, at least—extremely boring company.

Blair Braverman lives in northern Wisconsin. She and her husband have 25 sled dogs, which definitely make them the weird neighbors.