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Sebastopol horseman and political activist John Jenkel has ticked off a few people in his day.

Well, more than a few.

That happens when you stage war protests at the funeral of a fallen soldier. Or when you rant at public meetings, accusing people from the president to local elected officials of conspiring to cause the Sept. 11 attacks.

So it's no surprise that the eccentric 72-year-old — who dumped a large manure pile and a casket near the entrance to his Gravenstein Highway ranch — is at odds with his neighbor, winemaker Paul Hobbs.

About three years ago, Hobbs won a $350,000 judgment against Jenkel in a dispute over a stand of century-old trees that were destroyed, allegedly by unchecked well water running from Jenkel's 16 acres.

Jenkel refused to pay and the court ordered the sheriff to seize two pieces of his land and sell them to Hobbs at separate auctions last year and in 2009. A third sale is set for Thursday.

Although the seizures appear to be a clear-cut civil matter, the man who refers to himself in court papers as "'da 9-11 Bounty Hunter," insists he's the target of a government plot to silence him. He's calling on Gov. Jerry Brown to intervene.

"It's a land-grab to take over my entire farm," said Jenkel as he walked the grassy pasture that is next on the auction block. "Paul Hobbs is taking advantage of the fact that Congress wants to destroy me. I'm the only guy holding them accountable for what they're doing."

Hobbs, who did not respond to recent requests for comment, previously said Jenkel brought the situation on himself. Jenkel was encroaching on his property and became angry when he put up a fence, the winery owner said.

Jenkel, who's been deemed a "vexatious litigant" by the courts for his numerous lawsuits filed in Sonoma County, flooded the trees as a kind of pay back, Hobbs said.

"The whole thing is kind of unfortunate," Hobbs said in an interview last fall. "John kind of pushed us to take some action. To defend ourselves would be the best way to say it. He was a little bit aggressive on our land."

Jenkel's in-your-face style hasn't gone unnoticed at meetings of the Sonoma County Board of Supervisors, where he and his group of paid protesters speak most Tuesday afternoons.

His usual theme — that former San Francisco Mayor Willie Brown is behind the 9-11 attacks — is tied to his personal legal woes, which include a criminal charge of improper disposal of a dead horse. He's accused supervisors and Sonoma County judges of "high treason" for letting it happen.

Supervisor Shirlee Zane said she supports Jenkel's right to speak but feels threatened by him. She asked for more security and has walked out of the room when he took the podium, she said.

"His thinking is convoluted as to how his legal issues are connected to government," Zane said. "It's misplaced aggression." Other political activists are keeping their distance.

Susan Lamont, head of Santa Rosa's Peace and Justice Center, said besides a common anti-war theme, they have nothing in common.

"I don't pay much attention to what he says," Lamont said. "I think most people wish he'd stay away."

Jenkel's war protests grew out of his longtime obsession with Willie Brown, whom he's accused of forcing him from his San Francisco carriage ride business for political reasons.

Since U.S. forces invaded Iraq, Jenkel has erected anti-war signs and written long screeds accusing Brown and President George Bush of scheming for Middle East oil.

In left-leaning Sebastopol, Jenkel's roadside banner encouraging motorists to "Honk for Bush behind bars" has attracted more than a few supportive honks.

"I believe in the work he is trying to do," said political ally Colleen Fernald, also of Sebastopol.

Collaborator Mary Morrison called Jenkel "a unique person." "He's definitely being harassed by the government," she said.

Jenkel's house, which he said he built in 1965, is the nerve center of his work. It sits back from the highway behind a steel gate, next to horse stables and a group of dusty cabins rented to Morrison and others.

His "war room" is lined with white binders containing his writings, which he copies and distributes. Old newspapers are stapled to walls throughout the house, their headlines blaring war-related developments.

Jenkel gets his message out with the help of young people who read his missives at public meetings across the North Coast and in Sacramento. Jenkel pays them with part of a million-dollar inheritance he said he received about a decade ago that he said is nearly gone.

Now, he said, he's trying to hang onto what he's got. According to court records, he still owes the winery about $300,000, including interest.

On Monday, he sent a letter to the county attorney, Bruce Goldstein, seeking to prevent the upcoming auction. It said Goldstein "will be concealing treason" if the sale proceeds.

Goldstein did not return calls seeking comment. Sheriff's officials also would not comment about Jenkel.

"This is a sanctuary that's being stolen by organized crime," Jenkel said, while standing on his property last week. "I have quail. I have deer. I have horses. And I have people trying to stop mass murder."