Island of the Damned

 

        

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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