“I’ve never seen a drone fly before. Do you mind if I watch?”
I hear that a lot. Usually it’s the seller. Sometimes it’s somebody walking by on the street.
My answer is always the same. Sure, come on out.
I show them where to stand, behind me and away from the takeoff spot. Once the drone is up, I bring them over to look at the screen. I show them the controls and the little map that tells me exactly where the drone is, because it’s talking to satellites the whole time. I show them the altitude readout and explain that the FAA lets us go up to 400 feet, and not an inch more.
Then I swing the camera around and they see their own house from the sky.
That part never gets old. People light up. Most of them thank me for taking the time to show them.
That’s what happens almost every time I fly.
This is the story of the two times it didn’t.
Englewood
This was several years ago, back when I was flying a Phantom 4 Pro.
I was on a full package right on the coast in Englewood, out by Lemon Bay. The photos and the video were done, and I was finishing with the aerials, flying high to show off the waterways. That’s the shot people pay for out there.
I was looking up at the drone when I caught something out of the corner of my eye, off to my right. A man had come out of the house next door.
He was carrying a rifle.
My first thought was, what in the world? Are you kidding me?
Then he raised it and pointed it at my drone, and I knew exactly what he was about to do. It didn’t take a rocket scientist.
So I dropped the drone about ten feet, fast. Not enough to crash it, just enough to move it. He fired, and he missed, because it wasn’t where it had been a second earlier.
I brought it back in as fast as I could. He was in the next yard over, a good fifty yards from me, and I started yelling. What are you doing? Are you crazy? You can’t shoot in the middle of a neighborhood. Do you even know where that bullet’s going to land?
That’s the part I still think about. A bullet fired into the air comes down somewhere. It could land on a roof, or in a backyard where a kid is playing.
He yelled back with a lot of words I won’t print here. I kept my focus on getting the drone on the ground.
Somewhere in all the shouting, he said something about calling the police.
I told him that was a great idea. Let’s call the police.
I’ll be honest, I can’t remember which one of us made the call. I was running on pure adrenaline. But one of us did, and an officer came out.
I showed him everything. Every photo I’d taken that day, which was the house I’d been hired to shoot and the water behind it. I explained what happened. He told me I hadn’t done anything wrong, that I’d done exactly what I was supposed to do, and that he’d take care of it.
So I left him to deal with the man next door. I never found out what happened after that.
Punta Gorda Isles
The second one, a few years back on that same Phantom, ended differently.
I was shooting an empty lot way out at the end of Punta Gorda Isles, just south of Ponce de Leon Park. The drone was out over the mangroves, looking back toward the land. Past those mangroves there’s nothing but Charlotte Harbor, and beyond that, the Gulf.
I heard a shot.
Then I watched my drone drop out of the sky into the mangroves, and my heart sank. I couldn’t believe it.
I also knew right away it was gone. Nobody walks into those mangroves and comes out with a drone.
I looked around. All I could tell, by ear, was that the shot had come from somewhere off to my left. But Punta Gorda Isles is a spaghetti bowl of canals, with streets that wind around every one of them. There was no way to get over there fast, and no way to know which house it came from.
Back then Bell owned and ran a flower shop, Gladrich Flowers, and we were running both businesses at the same time. Hectic days. So I drove back to the shop and told her the whole story. I was so upset. That drone cost us about $1,600, and there wasn’t one thing I could do about it.
In every other story in this series, something went wrong and I got the drone back. This time somebody took it.
What changed
I still fly the same way I always have. I make sure the area is safe, and I look around before anything goes up.
The one thing I do differently is this. If somebody comes out and looks at me like they’re trying to figure out what I’m up to, I don’t wait. I walk over first.
“Hey, I bet you’re wondering why I’m flying a drone around here.”
Then I tell them it’s for real estate photography, and I usually ask if they’ve ever flown one. It lightens the moment right away. Most people are just a little paranoid, or curious. Once they know what’s going on, they’re fine, and a lot of them end up looking at the screen with me.
Both of those men had the same question everybody else has. What’s that thing doing over here? Every other neighbor walks over and asks. One of them reached for a rifle instead.
Flying the drone is the easy part. Handling the people is the real skill.
Your quick win: tell the neighbors first
Most of the tension on a shoot day comes from surprise. A drone shows up over somebody’s yard with no warning, and their imagination fills in the rest.
So take the surprise away. A day or two before the shoot, send your seller this text and ask them to forward it to the neighbors on each side and across the street.
Hi, it’s [seller’s first name] from [address]. Quick heads up: our photographer will be flying a drone over our home on [day] between [time window] to take photos for our listing. The camera is pointed at our house and the water, not yours. The pilot is FAA licensed and happy to show you the screen if you’re curious. Any questions, call me at [number].
It takes two minutes. It turns a stranger with a drone into “oh, that’s the photographer for next door.” And it gives a nervous neighbor a phone number to call first.
One question for your drone pilot
Before anybody flies over one of your listings, ask them: “What do you do when a neighbor comes out?”
You’re listening for somebody who walks over, introduces themselves and shows the screen. That neighbor is going to live next door to your buyer. You want them walking away curious, not angry.
And if you’re still deciding whether a particular listing even needs aerials, I put together a short yes-or-no checklist for exactly that. It’s free, and it’s here.
Next Friday is the last story in this series. It’s the one where the only person to blame was me.
Most neighbors just want to see the screen. Give them the chance.
I write a letter every Monday for agents in Southwest Florida and beyond. It’s called The Elevated Edge, it’s free, and every issue we’ve sent is sitting at elevatedaiacademy.com/edge where you can read the lot without giving me your email first.
