Island of the Damned
The bombing of a wildlife sanctuary
by E. Bruce Berman, Jr.
First published in The Boston Phoenix on August 14, 1987
On Wednesday I dropped by Gus Ben David's house at the Mass Audubon Society’s
Felix Neck Sanctuary, on Martha’s Vineyard, having spent three of the previous
five hours (starting at 8:30 am.) in an open 26-foot long boat in rough seas
watching two Phantom jets bomb and strafe another wildlife sanctuary, Noman’s
Island, six miles to the south of Gay Head.
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Surrounded by owls, eagles, hawks, and other birds of prey,
Ben David, 44, is a former nuclear-weapons specialist who now serves as head
honcho on the Vineyard for the Mass Audubon Society. As we spoke about just why
he favors Navy bombing and strafing at the Noman’s Island sanctuary but opposes
human visitation to the island (especially by picnickers), he tossed shredded
bird wings (with the feathers still attached) to the fledgling kestrel hawk in
the trees.
After an amiable hour or so, we concluded our talk, and he took me downstairs
in his house to show me the biggest damn Burmese python I'd ever seen, which he
doesn’t take out much now that it’s eating whole chickens and could easily kill
a young human.
Ben David lives in the only house at Felix Neck, with a spectacular view of the
sanctuary and the family of osprey that are its best-known new residents. From
his deck he can keep a watchful eye on the property for the Audubon Society
and: care for (and work with) the eagles, owls, falcons, hawks, and other birds
of prey that live in the sheds behind his house. “I took my first red-tail hawk right out of a
nest when I was nine years old. I took it illegally, but that just proves how
much I love them,” Ben David told me. And he has been enraptured by raptors
ever since.
Today’s Ben David's feathered charges are mostly orphans, injured birds brought
to him by woodsmen and nature lovers; though most of them can never be
released, they flourish under Ben David's care and provide a valuable resource
for teaching the island’s children and visitors about birds of prey.
Gus Ben David is not the only naturalist on the island, but he is the best
known. When an animal (even a skunk or raccoon) is injured or abandoned, or a
fledgling hurt in a fall from its nest, people bring it to Gus. And he nurses
it back to health and, if possible, reintroduces it into the wild. Folks know
he cares, and they listen to him and in general share his goals and cooperate
with his efforts — with sometimes spectacular results.
Take the osprey, or fish eagle. Once near extinction because of DDT and the
destruction of the high trees that are its preferred nesting sites, Ben David
secured the cooperation of island residents for a program to place osprey
nesting poles at various sites around the island. In 1971 there were just two breeding
pairs on Martha’s Vineyard; this year, thanks to his efforts, there are 41
breeding pairs of ospreys on the Vineyard. Once again visitors and residents
are treated to the sight of these majestic birds.
Precisely because Gus Ben David is the unchallenged spokesman for and champion
of the wildlife on the Vineyard, it is hard to understand why he defends so
vehemently the Navy's daily bombing and strafing sorties against the wildlife
sanctuary at Noman’s Island.
Since the Navy took possession of the 640-acre island from the Crane family, in the ‘40s, Gus Ben David has probably spent more time on Noman’s Island than any other civilian. He has, to use his military metaphor, “both the time and grade” to speak with authority about the status of the wildlife on Noman’s Island.
As a Vietnam-era “special weapons” expert
in a nuclear-weapons group, Ben David is
proud of his service to the country and
committed to a vigorous national
defense. He also has the “time and
grade” to evaluate the impact of the regular
strafing, burning, and bombing that have
become a center of controversy on the
Vineyard since the island was made a
wildlife sanctuary by the federal government,
in the early ‘80s.
Noman’s Island is the only bombing range in the Northeast air corridor and as such is very important to the military. And because, as a Navy spokesman put it, it would be “prohibitively expensive” to purchase another island to replace it, the Navy is committed to carrying on the bombing and strafing despite local opposition. So, it was not surprising that the Navy turned to Gus Ben David for help in conducting its evaluation of the status of wildlife on Noman’s. They speak the same language and share a similar commitment to a “strong America.”
During our first conversation, Ben David
volunteered the opinion that “it was a
mistake not to use nuclear weapons in
Vietnam.” He describes himself as a
“strong supporter of our nation’s
military”; he maintains, however, that
his approval of the bombing at Noman’s
is based not solely upon its military
importance but on the “relatively
positive’ impact the bombing has on the
island’s ecology and wildlife.
‘“Noman’s Island has been used by the armed
forces as a bombing range since World
War IL, yet it is still pristine, a virtual
paradise on earth for wildlife,” Ben
David told me as he tossed yet another
piece of bloody bird wing to the kestrel.
“The terns and gulls are flourishing. It
provides a secure habitat for four or
five species of reptiles, including
snapping, painted, and spotted turtles.
The greatest threat to that sanctuary is
human use, human visitation. Sure, I see
the irony, but the best way to keep
people off it is to continue the status
quo, to continue to use Noman’s for
target practice, as a bombing range.”
Ben David maintains that the negative effects
of the bombing are minimal. He concedes,
for example, that the live ammunition
and the explosive force of the bombings
result in regular- brushfires, but he
asserts that “controlled burning is a
generally accepted wildlife- management
tool.’” When I pressed him, he admitted
that he doesn’t permit fires at Felix
Neck and has never used controlled
burning as a tool at the Audubon
Sanctuary there. And though he pressed
charges against some local children for
throwing rocks at gulls, he maintains
that the impact of the smoke bombs (euphemistically called “flour sacks”) and heavy-caliber ammunition that the Navy’s Phantoms, F4s,F5s, F15s, and Fi6s throw at Noman’s between 8:30 and 10:00 most every morning is minimal, certainly not as disruptive as day-trippers would be. And he continues to
maintain that the bombing of the Noman’s
wildlife sanctuary is the best way to
protect the wildlife.
Sitting on his deck, watching the peacock
that roams free in his yard, Ben David
observed, “The real danger is human
visitation. Last year the folks in the
peace flotilla planted some Asian variety
of tree out there, to commemorate Hiroshima
Day. This year they may introduce some
other foreign species, like deer ticks,
which could disrupt the island's
ecosystem. Regular picnickers and
visitors would trash that island in a minute,
destroying everything from the bird’s
nests to the beach grass that they claim
to value so highly.”
The trip from Menemsha around Gay Head
and over to Noman’s Island on Thursday
morning took just half an hour on
Captain Chick Lee’s 26-foot-long boat,
the Moby Squid. Unlike the previous
morning, when I'd spent three hours trolling a plug just outside the clearly
demarcated restricted area around Noman’s
watching the bombing and strafing in a
strong northeast wind, the seas on
Thursday were calm, the air was warm,
and everyone, from the network television
crew to the Hiroshima Day Peace Flotilla
organizers, was happy to see the fog
lift and the sun break through.
We tied up to the old pier, still sturdy after 40 years of target practice, and scrambled over the wood and creosote to the shore. I stepped gingerly at first, trying to minimize the impact of my Reeboks on the fragile beach grass. But within a few seconds I stopped trying to step softly because I noticed that, for as far as I could see, the beach grass had been burnt to blackened stalks by the ordnance
that was strewn about the place. There were 30- and 50-caliber shells
everywhere; they had been fired from the
Vulcan cannons and Gatling guns. And
there was lots of larger ordnance, too,
some spent, some not, strewn like giant
blue cigars everywhere you looked. There
were craters from the 500-pound bombs
no longer in use, and within those craters
there were craters from the smaller
ammo the Navy prefers today. There
were-bomb parts, ammo clips, fins, missiles,
and slugs everywhere. And there were
dead birds: common terns and great-black-back
gulls and herring gulls everywhere, in
every state of decomposition.
Gus Ben David is quick to point out that
the presence of dead birds is a positive
sign, indicating that the colony is vital.
“In any flourishing bird population, you
will find dead chicks and dead adults.
It’s part of the process, it’s nature’s
way.”
But my examination of the carcasses led
me to the conclusion that something more
than the natural cycle of life and death
was at work here on Noman’s. And when I
retraced my steps around the island
following the unscheduled mock strafing
and bombing runs that occurred shortly
after the flotilla landed on the beach on
Thursday morning, I discovered half a
dozen bleeding and recently maimed
birds, freshly fallen from the sky,
where the planes had been flying just
400 feet over the island, at about 400
knots.
From a distance the island's flora looks lush and green. But on closer inspection it’s clear that the reports of raging fires on
Noman’s were not exaggerations. The whole island is covered with ashes; the
bayberries and blackberries, brambles and
thickets that cover the land are burnt and
stunted. The topsoil is black from the burnings,
and everywhere the land resembles some
bizarre prairie-dog development, with an
extensive network of tunnels caused by
the repeated strafing and shelling.
As the Hiroshima Day protesters placed
signs that read CAUTION, TERN NESTING
AREA around the island, conducted their
amateur wildlife survey, and caught a
few rays, I spent an hour or so looking
for the pristine paradise Gus Ben David
had described. I couldn't find it. But I
did find signs of the spotted turtles
and other reptiles that he had assured
me were flourishing on the island. The
first turtle I found was dead, burnt
black by brush fires, between the beach
and the ponds on the island. Later —
while the protesters ‘shared their feelings”
and observed Hiroshima Day in a
beautiful ceremony, complete with giant
puppets of white-and-black birds, I found plenty of healthy snappers, painted, and spotted turtles in the ponds, but I was forced to conclude that, if this was a wildlife paradise, I don’t want to know about wildlife hell.
Frankly, it seemed
more like a mortuary than a sanctuary to
me.
The Noman’s Island controversy is a deeply
divisive one. Even among those folks who
oppose the bombing, there are strong
differences of opinion on appropriate
use for the island. The issues of
overdevelopment and land usage, of environmental
protection versus recreation, are deeply
felt on Martha’s Vineyard, where
nature's fragility and power can be
witnessed firsthand every day. These
issues are complicated enough; when
complex war-and-peace issues and
clashing cultures and lifestyles are
introduced, it can get weird as hell.
To understand just why the Noman’s question
cuts so deeply into the fabric of Vineyard
life, one has to understand the pressures
and strains that always lurk just under
the tranquil surface of this island
paradise. There are 20,000 full- time
residents; the population mushrooms to
100,000 on an average summer weekend.
For some permanent residents, the whole
fuss is just the whining of a bunch of
spoiled summer folks who don’t want
their million-dollar views spoiled by
military exercises. One permanent (and
lifelong) resident told me, only partly
in jest, that anything that annoyed the
summer folks was okay with him. And in
the winter, he observed, “the strafing
and bombing is better than any light
show, more exciting than prime-time
television.”
This feeling is shared by many full- time
residents, who blame developers and
summer people for some of the Vineyard’s
woes. And to the extent that the Noman’s
issue is perceived as a development
issue, it touches many a raw nerve.
“There is a sense that there has been
too much senseless development already,”
says contractor Gary Reynolds, 35, a
permanent resident of Edgartown. “Some
people say that if the choice is between
bombing and development, then bomb it.
But that shouldn’t be the choice.”
For some, the bombing is an unnecessary irritant in a beautiful place. Polly Bassett, of Edgartown, says, “You ‘can’t even read your Sunday paper without being disturbed by the noise. And I live 20 miles away from Gay Head.” For others, like David Danielson, of Newton, a lifelong summer resident of the Vineyard, the bombing of Noman’s Island represents a wasted resource. ‘‘It should be opened up for recreation, not Jeeps or motorbikes, but picnickers and berry pickers. And I'd like to see the waters opened up to fishing and lobstering. Frankly, any usage would be preferable to the bombs.”
In Gay Head, which faces the island, the
concerns are more immediate Captain
Chick Lee is concerned about the safety
of local fishermen, himself, and his
family. “They are practicing there, but
they are using real guns, with real
ammunition. Sometimes they fire in direct
line with my house. I can only hope they
never, ever miss.” As in most of
Reagan's America, there are deep
divisions between the peace advocates
(perceived as mostly summer folks,
though more than half of the protesters
with the flotilla were year- round
residents) and those who see a need for
a “strong national defense” and the
training that goes along with it. One
merchant marine on three months’ shore
leave after a tour of duty that took him
to the Red Sea and the Indian Ocean,
said, “My life is on the line out there
every day. My safety, my life, depends
on those pilots and those planes every
day. And there is nowhere else for them
to practice in the Northeast. When I see
them practicing, I feel more secure.”
That attitude wasn’t shared by two Harvard
Divinity School students, who were
angered and frightened by the unscheduled
fly-by during the protest. Said one:
“Now I know what it’s like to be
attacked by my own government.”
There has often been conflict between the
ends the naturalists seek and the means
they employ. Old John James Audubon
himself may have been the best example.
As Gus Ben David points out, “Audubon
killed more rare birds than arty 10
hunters. First, he shot them, and then
he stuffed them. That was how he
preserved them for the future generations.”
I can’t help observing that we can do better. On this beautiful island, it is a shame that there is so much division over the one thing that usually unifies summer folk and
full-time residents, the preservation of
the environment. It is especially dissonant to hear an Audubon Society bird- sanctuary director argue that bombing a wildlife sanctuary is good for the wildlife — so dissonant, in fact,
that some people find it impossible to
keep from maligning his motives or from dismissing the people who support the bombing
as crackpots or ideologues.
On the Vineyard, after a few beers, the reasoned arguments quickly degenerate into vituperative personal
attacks. “Only a guy with
nuclear-weapons experience would be comfortable with the idea of bombing the sanctuary to save the birds,” one activist railed. ‘That's the kind of thinking that ends with a nuclear winter, after the holocaust finally makes the
world safe for democracy.”
This fall the flotilla organizers hope
to hold another action, this time during
the annual parade of birds of prey, as
falcons, hawks, and eagles migrate
south. Gus Ben David told me that
Noman’s was a spectacular place to view these majestic raptors fly by and that it was an important stopover for them on their annual migration. From what
I saw, it’s likely ‘that some of those
all-too-rare birds will die, victims of.
the Phantom jets with whom they must
compete for space.
Gus Ben David, who might be the only
person who could lead the fight to stop
the bombing and preserve Noman’s Island
for future generations, is certainly a strange
bird himself. He keeps raptors and
raises pigeons for them as food. He is
com passionate and concerned about wildlife
but readily defends the use of nuclear
weapons in Vietnam. He is a bird lover and an accomplished marksman, a hunter who raises
wood ducks.
It’s not Gus Ben David's fault that the
bombing continues, but it doesn’t bother
him much. And it is partly his fault
that the options are perceived to be
either continued bombing and strafing or “a thousand picnickers a day.”
Though he is quick to point out that
it's not his responsibility to develop a
plan to protect Noman’s from development
or human recreation, there could and should be just such a plan. The Navy could find another place to bomb. Noman’s could be made a well-managed wildlife preserve and sanctuary, run by one of the nonprofit conservation groups, or by the government, for the benefit of both the birds and the public.
Meanwhile, Gus Ben David will continue
to support the bombing. As everyone on
the island agrees, Gus Ben David is for the birds.
(Editor's note: On Wednesday Jerry
Bertrand, PhD, president of the
Massachusetts Audubon Society, directed
an Audubon Society biologist to
accompany biologists from the Department
of Fisheries and Wildlife on an investigative trip to Noman’s Island Thursday to determine the effects of the bombing and strafing on the
wildlife. “It may be that the bombing and strafing is incompatible with the island’s protection as a wildlife refuge,” said Bertrand in a statement to the Phoenix. “If so, we'll go to the US Fisheries and Wildlife Service to ask for an immediate hearing to thoroughly investigate and evaluate this issue. The Navy
has to do it right or get out, and it’s
not clear that they're doing it
right.”’
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