Not all members of the public appreciate the sound of an airplane engine as much as we pilots do. Some of them complain about the noise. A few make it their mission in life to stop it.
A while ago, an affronted gentleman came into our place of business and asked to speak to a manager. The manager who met him is expert at public relations, but the exchange was classic even for her talents. Mr. Public produced and unfurled a map, and, placing a finger on it, righteously declared, "My house is right here." The manager looked at his map with great interest and then, in the most cheerful, neighbourly way you could imagine, placed her own finger on the map nearby and responded "Really? My house is here!" Not quite the effect he had intended.
If you buy a house near the sea, you're going to have seagulls in your yard. If you buy a house near a mushroom farm, you're going to smell manure. If you buy a house near a dairy farm you're going to smell manure and hear a lot of mooing. And if you buy a house near an airport, you're going to hear airplanes. If you don't like it, don't buy a house there. If you already did, move.
There are restrictions on how low and how fast aircraft can fly in the vicinity of built-up areas and other structures, but those rules are prefaced by the words "except for the purpose of take off and landing" because we've got to start and end the trip at zero feet above the ground.
At another company I worked, the chief pilot's assistant created a special voice mailbox just for one complaining lady. Because of airspace and operational concerns, we flew at 3500' over her house and she'd still call in to complain about the noise. Unfortunately the chief pilot always seemed to be out when she called, and his assistant would helpfully route her call to his other voice mail. Complaining about the noise must have been like a hobby for her, something to give purpose and structure to her days, and something to talk to her friends about. Maybe she couldn't afford a poodle.