Distress Call
by Bruce H. Mero
A serious problem
for airports, the hazard to aircraft presented by flocking birds is one studied
at length by the Air Force Bird-Aircraft Strike Hazard (BASH) Team at Tyndall
Air Force Base in the Florida panhandle.
Bird-aircraft collisions create an extreme danger to pilots, occasionally an airplane crash
results from such collisions. It creates considerable expense to the Air
Force when bird strikes damage aircraft or when birds are ingested into jet
engines. Accordingly, a number of measures have been developed and tested at
Air Force installations by the BASH team, designed to reduce the number of
birds at locations on bases where aircraft operations are conducted to minimize
bird-aircraft strike hazards.
As the environmental
manager for Griffiss Air Force Base, it was my job to implement bird
habitat/bird reduction measures the BASH Team had developed to make it safer to
fly airplanes at the Griffiss airfield.
At
Griffiss, the most significant bird hazard was from Seagulls. Fortunately it is
a bird species that had been the object of a great deal of attention by the
BASH Team. The size of the bird, its slow take-off and flight characteristics,
its propensity for traveling in large flocks and its affinity for the acres of
low-cut grass and vast pavement areas found at most airfields, make it a
particular problem. Seagull-aircraft strikes were frequent at Griffiss
I’d been in
constant contact with the Tyndall folks, that fall. The rains had come early. Seagulls
were concentrating in huge numbers on the ramps and taxiways, eating earthworms
driven out of the soil and onto the concrete by the saturated soil. The birds
generally were not a hazard to the slow moving airplane in these areas, but
flocks of gulls loafing near or crossing the active runway were very dangerous
and causing aborted take-offs and landings.
Airfield Operations crews chased the birds around in trucks, but they
often moved only a few yards away from the passing trucks, landed and continued
feeding. Blasts from firecracker devices
were employed to scare the birds, but proved only minimally effective. The flocks were barely deterred and just
moved to a quieter spot.
While we
waited for the BASH Team to provide assistance, the Base Commander decided to
take the matter into his own hands and organized a Seagull shoot. Every officer
and senior NCO on base who owned a shotgun was invited to participate. The
Colonel intended to kill the gulls, en masse, to rectify the problem. As was
often the case, however, the environmental office (me) put a brief halt to the
plan by telling the Colonel that Seagulls were protected under the Migratory
Bird Act and they could only be killed if a Federal depredation permit was
issued by the US Fish and Wildlife Service. Of course, this news was very
popular with the Commander and he gave me a week to get my (expletive deleted)
permit. He reminded me that this was HIS base and he was going to do whatever
he wanted here and that included killing hundreds of Seagulls, Federal law be
damned. Furthermore, he stated that he was going to direct his hunting party to
pile the hundreds of Seagull carcasses in my office after the kill on their way
to the Officer's Club for an après-hunt party. He got really nasty when I
suggested that he take the dead birds with him to the Officer's Club and have
the head chef prepare a meal for the valiant hunters from the birds. Enough
beer, I suggested, and they'd taste just like chicken.
Long story
short, the permit arrived in time for the Colonel to conduct his hunt. At the
end of the day two seagulls had been killed by the three dozen shot-gun toting,
camouflage-wearing hunters who showed up for the shoot. My guess is that those
two birds died of fright when three dozen shot guns went off in the first
volley. Two birds, total; several hundred rounds fired. Those two bird
carcasses did eventually end up in my office, not because of the Base
Commander's threat, but because we had to provide a species identification to
the US Fish and Wildlife Service as a condition of them issuing us the
depredation permit.
The BASH
Team eventually sent me a device they were sure would solve the problem, a Seagull
distress call. It was a commonly known fact that birds of all kinds pay close
attention to everything going on in the flock around them. Their individual survival
depended on warning cues from others in their group. Someone on the BASH Team
had captured a Seagull, wrung its neck and made the bird cry in pain; recording
the plaintiff scream on tape. Theory was that when the tapes were played in the
vicinity of other Seagulls, the sound of distress from the wounded gull would
cause the others to flee in panic. Griffiss would be an early test of the
device for effectiveness.
I took my
portable tape player and the distress call tape to Base Ops and went out onto
the ramp with the Airfield Manager and a couple of his staff to test the device.
The Base Commander got wind of the plan by his pals in Base Ops and drove his
staff car onto the ramp to join us. We stopped our little caravan in the middle
of a particularly large accumulation of gulls and set-up the tape player and
two large speakers in the back of the Base Ops truck. The Colonel stepped from
his car. He had just come from a meeting with the Mayor, downtown and was in
dress blues. With the volume on the tape player set at a medium level, I turned
on the sound. A horrible scream came out of the speaker
resembling fingers raking across a chalkboard. Sure enough all of the
birds jumped off the ground. They didn’t fly away in panic, however. The flock
just milled around in the air a couple of dozen feet above the vehicles looking
for their injured compadre. I thought that if it worked pretty well at half
volume, what would happen if I played it again at maximum volume? I turned the
volume higher and played the tape again. We humans all winced at the horrible sound. Every one of the hundreds of Seagulls flapping above
our heads crapped in unison.
The Base
Commander retreated to his car, too late to undo the besmirching with Seagull
dukie he'd just experienced. He drove his car away with his windshield washer
streaking poop across the window. The rest of us just laughed. It was funny; a
terrible mess, but funny. The results of our test of the distress tape was
dutifully reported to the BASH Team, every aspect. It was my sense that the
very serious voice at the end of the phone had a great laugh after our call.
hey Lisa from Kansas, Dad said your nice e-mail inspired him to add some to this story!!!
OMG...that's hilarious!!!! As soon as I read Dress Blues, I KNEW what was coming up next. LOL....
ReplyDeleteBASH,what an ironic name for the study. Still a big problem and always scares the daylights out of me when I hear the sonic boom going off to scare the birds away. Doesn't help that the runway is in my backyard. I can attest to the "droppings"...their first pit stop from leaving the runway is my house!
WONDERFUL Sunday story yet again...
Thank you for sharing Mitra and Bruce, thanks for the humor with my coffee.
Hahahaha...2 birds.... geesh!