No-man’s (and no-bird’s) land
When Mike Colosi moved to Florida, he had a simple but big dream: to build a beautiful home nestled within the serene, natural beauty of his newly acquired 5.07-acre property. He envisioned using only about an acre for his residence, leaving the rest untouched to preserve its natural tranquility. But instead of enjoying a home in his new surroundings, Mike found himself tangled in a web of government red tape that threatened to turn his dream into a financial impossibility.
Mike’s journey to Florida began like many others. He was drawn by the Sunshine State’s charm, slower pace of life—and of course, the lure of no state income tax. He soon found out Floridians pay for their sunshine in other ways.
He selected a piece of land in Charlotte County, excited to put down roots and build a home that reflected his ideals and values. But soon after starting the process, he hit an unexpected obstacle: a nearly $120,000 development fee imposed under the county’s Habitat Conservation Plan (HCP). The reason? The hypothetical chance that a Florida scrub-jay—a bird species unique to the state—might one day nest on his property.
For Mike, the fee seemed unfair and disconnected from reality. “I want to protect the natural beauty of my land,” he said, “but asking me to pay this kind of money based on a mere possibility feels like extortion.”
Currently, neither Mike nor any scrub-jays inhabit his land, and neither will until this can be resolved with the federal and local government—a feat that is proving more difficult than he had imagined.
Property rights stymied under the guise of environmentalism
Mike’s case is about more than just a fee—it’s about the principle of proportionality and the rights of property owners. Under current Supreme Court precedent, development fees must meet two basic criteria: They must have a clear connection to the actual impact of the development and be proportional to that impact.
For Mike, the County’s formula for determining fees is irrational and punitive, with rates that more than double for increases in land mass as minor as a fraction of an acre. No consideration is given for land in a plot left undeveloped; the fee is based on total acreage, clear cut and built on, or not.
Pacific Legal Foundation attorney Johanna Talcott agrees. “Charlotte County’s fee scheme is a clear violation of property owners’ rights,” she said. “The Supreme Court has repeatedly ruled that government demands must have a demonstrable—and proportional—link to the development’s impact. This is not just wrong; it’s setting a dangerous precedent for anyone trying to build in Florida.”
Indeed, Supreme Court decisions such as Dolan v. City of Tigard (1994) and PLF’s wins in Nollan v. California Coastal Commission (1987) and Koontz v. St. Johns River Water Management District (2013) have consistently held that such demands must be grounded in fairness and proportionality.
Consider that if his property were just .07 acres smaller, it would fall into the 3.01 acre-to-5 acre bracket, dropping the fee from $118,527 to $52,696. But that 0.07th of an acre more than doubles the fee. Consider also that Mike paid $130,000 for the land, making the fee close to the entire value of the property. If the fee were based on the actual land he wishes to clear and build on—just 1 acre—the fee would be $8,499.
Fee structure creates perverse incentive for environmental impact
If this were really about saving scrub-jays and wildlife habitat, Mike would be rewarded for owning and preserving so much land, not incentivized to develop the maximum amount to “get his money’s worth.” Indeed, development, not preservation, is what this type of fee structure is encouraging.
For a property owner looking to build, a more economical approach would be to divide the land into five 1-acre plots, clear cut the whole thing, and build five houses instead of one. The environmental fees would then total $53,776 at most. Even MORE economical would be to divide it into 10 half-acre lots and build 10 houses for an impact fee of $34,000.
And then where would the scrub-jays live? And where would Mike’s $118,527 fee go? To wildlife management? To building bird houses? To planting scrub oak on available land elsewhere? At the end of the day, these fees go into what is essentially a big slush fund. And the property owners are the ones left to bear enormous costs for the County to act like land speculators.
The Florida Scrub-Jay was classified as a Threatened species by the state in 1975, and by the federal government in 1987, but these designations have failed to halt the population decline. By 1993, Florida Scrub-Jay populations had declined an estimated 90%, to about 10,000 individuals. Since then, further, severe declines have been documented in some Scrub-Jay populations in Brevard County and elsewhere.
Examining the perverse incentives of this fee structure, is it any wonder government efforts to protect a species only serve to pad the budgets of those authorized to collect fees while the species in question declines by 90%?
Indeed, this is not about Florida’s beloved scrub-jay.
Mike is, at heart, a nature lover. Why else would he buy five unspoiled acres of lush terrain? He would be delighted to comply with other Habitat Conservation Plan requirements, such as avoiding clearing land during nesting season, and planting native scrub oaks that encourage scrub-jays to move in.
But the County simply will not budge on this exorbitant fee.
So, while building his own perfect habitat, he could also create inviting conditions for the scrub-jay population—IF government’s arbitrary and avaricious regulations would leave him capital to do so. But they will not—voluntarily.
A battle that goes beyond Florida
After several attempts to reason with County and federal authorities, Mike has been left with no other choice than legal action, which he approaches reluctantly, but ably, with Pacific Legal Foundation’s help. It has become a necessary step if he is ever to be able to use his own land. Mike’s lawsuit is challenging not just the County’s regulations but also the federal government’s authority to impose rules under the Commerce Clause for a bird found solely within Florida, with no commercial relevance.
Mike hopes not only to lift the financial burden on his own dream home but also to set a precedent for other property owners facing similar challenges.
“I didn’t move to Florida to fight lawsuits,” Mike says. “But this isn’t just about me. It’s about standing up for property rights—my own and for anyone who’s worked hard to build a life and been met with roadblocks that shouldn’t be there in a constitutional republic.”
A dream deferred, not defeated
For now, Mike’s 5.07 acres sit untouched, showcasing both the natural beauty of Florida and the bureaucratic hurdles that come with it. As Mike awaits his day in court, he remains optimistic. “I believe fairness will win in the end if I have the time and patience to go through this process. Which I do.”
Mike’s fight isn’t just about a house—it’s about preserving the American dream for others. “If I don’t stand up, who will?” he asks. “If this bureaucratic overreach is not challenged, what do we all lose, little by little, over time? At some point, once you hit the brick wall, you have to stand up, and that’s just what it is.”
A win for Mike would not only restore his right to build a home on his own land but also further the property rights of all Americans who simply want to adapt their property without facing excessive and arbitrary fees.
