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-The Project Gutenberg EBook of Ecology on Rollins Island, by Varley Lang
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
-most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
-whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
-of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
-www.gutenberg.org.  If you are not located in the United States, you'll
-have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using
-this ebook.
-
-
-
-Title: Ecology on Rollins Island
-
-Author: Varley Lang
-
-Release Date: April 25, 2019 [EBook #59363]
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: ASCII
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ECOLOGY ON ROLLINS ISLAND ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online
-Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-                       ECOLOGY ON ROLLINS ISLAND
-
-                            BY VARLEY LANG
-
-               _Man's every resource was being stripped
-             to feed the millions on Earth ... but George
-                was a throwback, and a poacher, and his
-                 punishment had to fit the crime...._
-
-           [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
-              Worlds of If Science Fiction, August 1955.
-         Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
-         the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
-
-
-There's a library in a small town near Charles Neck on Murdock Sound.
-It's so run down and useless that a lot of old books still hang around
-on the shelves, the big kind with stiff backs and all kinds of fancy
-little stars or small, curly designs to show the end of one section
-and the beginning of another. Very quaint. After the WFI took over the
-Sound in our remote area, I didn't have much to do in the day time,
-so I used to walk down the road to town and get a handful of these
-stiff backs once in a while. From reading them I got the notion I'm
-a one man resistance movement, which is pitiful and foolish, and, I
-gather, always has been a seedy, run-down sort of thing, a backward
-state of mind and feelings. That's me, alright: backward. I tried to
-be forward, but it made me hard to live with; and since I live mostly
-with myself, I had to quit. Still, I knew I couldn't get away with
-backwardness, and that sooner or later the WFI would slap me down,
-squash this bussing insect, and get on with its work again as usual.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-Sure enough, one bleak November morning, when I was half through a
-couple of eggs and a cup of coffee, I heard the throb of a motor. I
-walked down to the end of my wharf and looked skyward. I was pretty
-sure they wouldn't come by land, because most of the secondary roads
-were in bad shape; and they wouldn't travel by water, because that took
-too much gas and time. In fact, the WFI never wasted anything. They
-couldn't afford to. Everything went for food, its growth, collection,
-and processing. The big freighters, some of them, had atomic piles,
-but that power was impossibly clumsy and expensive for smaller boats.
-So they came by air in the usual inspection helicopter. The pilot
-dropped her in the cove right alongside the wharf and made fast. Three
-men stepped onto the planks. They had the wheat sheaf insignia of the
-WFI on their overcoat arms and caps, and they looked cold and bored.
-A small sea sucked at the pilings and the helicopter rose and fell,
-grating against the wharf. I looked at the pilot and said, "Better put
-your chafing gear out if you intend staying a while." We all watched
-while the pilot put a few kapoks at the tight spots. Then he looked at
-a notebook and said, "You George Arthur Henry?"
-
-I said, "Call me George."
-
-This inspector was the usual type: tired from long hours, bored from
-doing nothing on a weary round of food inspections. He hunched his
-shoulders against the wind.
-
-I said, "It's warmer inside."
-
-They followed me into the kitchen of the house. All three of them
-started to sit down, then stopped, and walked over to the table in
-perfect step. They looked at the cold remains of my breakfast eggs. The
-WFI inspector shoved his hat up and said, "Eggs." The others nodded,
-wordless with wonder. Then the inspector said, "Chickens?"
-
-"Where," I said, "do you think I got the eggs?"
-
-The little man alongside the inspector came to life. In three dextrous
-movements he had glasses on, a notebook in his hand, and stylus poised.
-"What do you feed them?" he inquired eagerly.
-
-"Seeds," I said, "insects, chopped up garter snakes, mussels, ground up
-oyster shells. You boys have all the grain."
-
-There was an excited light in the little man's eyes. He hurried out to
-a broken down shed to examine the chickens.
-
-That left two of them. The inspector continued to gaze at the remains
-on the plate in a dreamy way. The other man straightened his big
-shoulders, looked at me, and said, jerking his thumb toward the shed,
-"Mr. Carter's an ecologist. He just came along for the trip. He's on
-his way to the Government Experimental Farm over at Murdock. I'm a
-government sociologist. I was sent here to have a talk with you. My
-name is Ranson."
-
-"Sure. Sit down. I guess I'm licked, but there's no use making a rumpus
-about it."
-
-I turned to the inspector whose eyes were still caught in the egg
-plate. I said, "Ever taste them?"
-
-"Once," he said, in a far away voice. I went to the cupboard and came
-back with a paper bag full of eggs and put it in his hands. He held
-them as if someone had just given him the wheat sheaf badge of merit.
-
-"I won't be needing these after our little talk, I expect. Take them
-home to the kiddies."
-
-He smiled, looked at the sociologists, who grinned back and nodded. The
-inspector walked very carefully out of the back door and down to the
-wharf to stow his eggs in the helicopter.
-
-Ranson shifted in his chair. He said, "That was very nice of you, Mr.
-Henry."
-
-"George," I said.
-
-"Against the law, of course." There was a smile around his eyes. "Are
-you against the law, George?"
-
-"Yes. No use bluffing. You know the story. All the waters and
-everything in them are WFI. All the land and everything on it. I don't
-like packaged food. I like real food. I don't like my oysters, crabs,
-clams, fish minced up and blended with chick weed, cereals, yeast,
-algae, plankton, and flavored to taste a little like steak. And plenty
-of others feel the same. I have a market."
-
-"An illegal market."
-
-"Yes," I said. "By God, if you had told my father, before I was born,
-that the oysters he tonged could not be eaten as oysters, he'd have
-laughed in your face. And if you had told him he wouldn't even be
-allowed to tong them, he'd have cussed you good and proper!"
-
-"People have to be fed. The only way we can do it is to combine the
-total food resources of the world, process and package them, and do it
-as efficiently as possible. That means absolute control of _all_ food
-sources and their harvesting. You could work for WFI, George. It would
-be important work."
-
-"I know. It's so important nothing else gets done. Have you seen the
-roads around here? Half the bridges are down across Charles Neck and
-Walter Hook. You can't get gas. You can't get telephones, and if you
-happen to have one, it doesn't work half the time. And the busses don't
-run any more. And--"
-
-Ranson held up his hand. "It's an emergency, George. You have to
-realize that. It's been building up for a long time, long before your
-father worked the oyster beds in Murdock Sound."
-
-"There's another thing," I said. "Before you fellows closed the Sound,
-I was independent. I had my own boat and I made my own way. Now you
-put your WFI scoops in the Sound and the whole job is done in a month
-or two. And who are the watermen? A couple of clerks to every scoop
-who turn a valve every once in a while and draw their packaged food,
-clothing, and entertainment once a week. Do you call that a job? Why,
-those food clerks couldn't even lift a pair of thirty foot rakes, let
-alone tong with them."
-
-"We get more oysters, George, and in less time, and we do it
-scientifically."
-
-Ranson tapped his notebook with the stylus and he looked out of the
-kitchen window. He was giving me time to cool off. He'd been kind and
-patient when he didn't have to be either. With his job he had no time
-to sit and reason with a one man resistance movement. He had no time
-for anything but food, and organizing society to keep it grubbing
-incessantly for food, and, at the same time, to keep society as orderly
-and contented as possible. I was not orderly and I was not contented.
-But I was just one man, not society. I cooled off.
-
-I said, "Look, Ranson. It's like this. I know you're right. I've had a
-look around, and I've thought about it some. The figures are with you:
-too many men and not enough food. Only thing is, even from your point
-of view, I'm not fit for WFI. I have to be on my own. There ought to be
-somewhere, someplace for a man, instead of a food clerk---" I trailed
-off unhappily.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-"I'm afraid you have no alternative, George. You are a criminal in the
-eyes of the WFI. Either you will work for WFI or you will be punished."
-He paused.
-
-"I won't work for them."
-
-Carter, the ecologist, burst in at the door, slammed his gloves down
-in the middle of the kitchen table. "Ranson, you never saw anything
-like it. Fifty in the flock, two roosters, all in fine shape. Lice of
-course, some bone malformation in the legs. But healthy."
-
-He began to ask me dozens of questions, but Ranson interrupted.
-
-"I need your help, Carter, and time's wasting. Among other
-depredations, George Henry, here, has been robbing government oyster
-beds, trapping government crabs, netting government fish, presumably
-at night. I needn't add that he has a ready and lucrative market. In
-effect, he refuses to cease his depredations, he refuses to join the
-WFI, and he is generally uncooperative."
-
-Carter said, "uncooperative," in an absent way. He dragged his mind
-away from a flock of fifty fowl living in a most unusual ecology,
-narrowed his eyes, and asked a shrewd question.
-
-"How did he get there?"
-
-"What?"
-
-"To the beds."
-
-Ranson said, "Where did you get the gas, George?"
-
-"I didn't. Took the engine out, put in a well and center-board, shipped
-a mast, and rigged her for sail. She's tucked away up in Marshwater
-Creek."
-
-They were astounded. Nobody had sailed pleasure craft for a generation:
-no leisure and no money for such a waste of time; and sail craft were
-too inefficient for food collecting.
-
-"My God, George," Ranson said, "you're a living anachronism!"
-
-Carter nodded. He adjusted his glasses, looked at me, and said quietly,
-"He is also an able man."
-
-"His abilities will be largely wasted in a Penal Food Processing
-Plant," Ranson said grimly.
-
-"Oh, I agree, I agree." Carter nodded his head emphatically. "The wrong
-environment entirely. No scope. No initiative." He gave me a glance of
-understanding that warmed me right through and also had the unfortunate
-effect of taking some of the starch out of me. I had been prepared for
-hostility and indifference. I stood up and walked to the sink for a
-glass of water I didn't want.
-
-"Now," Carter said, talking to Ranson, "you take the way he walks.
-Notice how he swings his arms, with his hands a little forward, as if
-ready to grip, and the tilt of his head, alert, watchful. You don't see
-that often. Different attitude, different environment."
-
-Ranson sighed. "Get down to business."
-
-"Yes. There's always this terrible lack of manpower, machine power,
-everything, all swallowed up in food. And besides, the men can't stand
-those bird stations. Too lonely. Can't meet an emergency. Four of them
-died on Rollins Island three winters ago when the power plant failed.
-Just sat there and froze. Terrible thing. Had to install emergency
-two-way radios; need the equipment elsewhere."
-
-"They died of loneliness, if you ask me," Ranson said.
-
-Carter nodded. "And no gas available for boat inspection. Helicopter
-too wasteful for a single station. Put George out there with one or two
-others. Could you sail out? Seaworthy? Big enough?"
-
-I said yes.
-
-"Good. Food processing all done by machines. Just feed birds in. Take
-up to half the colony of young birds when bred, half the old ones when
-coming to nest. Regular inspection of tern colonies by sail, your boat.
-Helicopter lands June twenty, small freighter in July to load processed
-birds in Rollins Harbor. Just the thing."
-
-He took off his glasses to show that the problem had been solved.
-
-"Look," Ranson said. "I don't have anything against George personally.
-I want him to be useful and contented. If he can't be contented,
-then at least I want him to be useful, instead of wasteful. Robbing
-government food resources is a grave offense, but even that doesn't
-justify putting him down in the middle of a pile of excrement where no
-ordinary man can breathe for more than a few minutes without stifling."
-
-"Healthy," Carter said. "Healthy. It does stink. That's one reason we
-have such trouble keeping the stations manned."
-
-"Boys," I said. "What is this pile of dung I'm supposed to sit on? And
-what birds? And why?"
-
-Carter explained. In the desperate search for food, the sea birds were
-now being subjected to an annual harvest. From various nesting places
-along all the ocean coasts in the world, birds were harvested, to
-say nothing of their eggs, in large numbers. It was simply a matter
-of catching and killing the birds, gathering their eggs, and feeding
-the processing hoppers with same. These foods were later shipped to
-Food Processing Plants to be added to other harvests and packaged for
-consumption. In some cases, more specialized processing was necessary,
-as with the fulmars on Rollins Island. The fulmars were much prized
-because their alimentary system contained an especially stinking oil
-rich in fat and vitamin A. In their case, no eggs were collected,
-since they bred only once in a season, and the birds were separately
-processed to retrieve the oil.
-
-Literally millions of sea birds and their eggs were cropped yearly
-from nesting sites on the east coast of North America alone. It was a
-regular and assured source of food on an enormous scale the world over.
-The thousands of tons of excrement were also gathered every five years
-to be used in food processing and in agriculture. It was the policy of
-the WFI to waste nothing and to use everything.
-
-The cropping of the young birds took place in the spring and early
-summer, depending on the species. The adult birds were trapped by
-various devices when they returned to their nests. Over-cropping was
-carefully avoided to insure a steady annual production.
-
-"If it's the island or a Penal Food Plant, I'll take the island. I'm a
-waterman, not a bird collector. At least I'll get a chance to use the
-boat once in a while."
-
-Both the WFI men looked relieved. Then Ranson put a question.
-
-"Do you know of anyone else around here who might be fitted for such
-work? I'm not asking you to inform. I know there's been a good deal of
-discontent in this Sound region, which is one reason why I'm here. The
-island may be a solution for other misfits as well."
-
-I thought it over. "The Jackson boys aren't very happy. They were the
-best men with drift nets this Sound has ever seen. Now they sit on
-stools all day long and watch a row of bottles pass in front of lights.
-Once in a while they lift a bottle out of the line and put it aside.
-They get very drunk every night on some stuff they make out of berries
-and dandelions from the marsh."
-
-Ranson sighed. Carter again passed a warming look of complete
-understanding, and nodded encouragement.
-
-"Then there's Pete Younger. He was a trapper before WFI closed the
-muskrat areas. He turns a valve several hundred times a day in the
-Small Fish Processor. He oils his traps and talks to himself. He may be
-too far gone. I think he is."
-
-"Anyone else?"
-
-"Others. But the WFI has a bight on them for good, I guess. They were
-men, once."
-
-"Are the Jackson men married?"
-
-I smiled. "No. We're dying out."
-
-Carter chuckled.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-It was a twenty-five mile sail to Rollins Island. The Jackson boys and
-I loaded the boat with clothing mostly. Food was stored on the island.
-I took along four pairs of oyster rakes, I didn't have the heart to
-leave them behind. And Bill and Joy took a huge ball of linen twine,
-ropes, corks, rings, all the makings for a drift net.
-
-Unexpectedly, Carter showed up at the last minute by helicopter to see
-us off. He jumped up on the wharf smiling.
-
-"About those chickens," he said, "they're condemned stock of course.
-Better take them along. And keep an eye on them. Want to know how they
-make out in a new environment."
-
-Then he took me aside and handed me a small book.
-
-"Lot of information in this. Written by a small animal ecologist. Read
-it. Read it carefully. Think about it. Read it again, and think some
-more. Got that?"
-
-I said, "Sure. I'll read it." I had the notion he was trying to get
-something over without actually coming out with it flat, so I listened
-carefully.
-
-He paused for a while, wiping his glasses and pursing his lips.
-
-"That island's not right for fulmars and gannets. Wrong environment.
-Never have multiplied as they should. Whole thing should be
-concentrated north. Plenty of cliff sites north. None here. Won't do.
-Terns, yes. Fulmars and gannets, no. Trouble is, WFI is tenacious.
-Stupidly so. It works, they say. I tell them it works badly. It's going
-to take a lot to move them: total failure of a colony or two.
-
-"You're intelligent, George. Put two and two together. Wish you luck."
-
-He shook my hand quickly and jumped into the helicopter. Bill and Joy
-had to call me twice before I could come out of a trance of bewildered
-speculation. In a daze I helped the boys load our last piece of
-equipment: a huge barrel of salt they had pilfered from the local Food
-Plant.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-The island is big, about five by fifteen miles, and it must have been
-a fine piece of land. It still was, even though mucked everywhere with
-white-to-greenish bird dung. There were steep hills on the mainland
-side, marshes to seaward, and in the middle natural meadowland broken
-by woods containing pine, and some beech and maple. We moored in a
-small but fairly deep harbor at a wharf for loading foods. Our barracks
-stood just off the wharf. In addition to all the necessities, there was
-a two-way radio, marked "Use in emergency only", and a handbook with
-information on approximate numbers of birds to be taken, locations
-of nesting sites, and so on. Equipment, including snares and nets,
-was stored in an equipment room. And there was a storeroom containing
-packaged foods, no freezing or cooling necessary for preservation.
-
-Behind the barracks stood a warehouse for storing processed birds, and
-a shop with the processors themselves. Everything looked orderly and
-efficient. A small plant supplied us with light and heat and power for
-the machines.
-
-We arrived in November. By December, the first sea birds began to
-return to their nesting sites, a few at a time. Soon we were so busy
-snagging them as they came to land that we had little time for anything
-but work and sleep. Even so, Bill took the time to salt several dozens
-of gannets and fulmars for future eating, and he was looking forward to
-the eggs.
-
-Spring and early summer soon rolled around, and we were collecting
-young birds, the nestlings. So it went.
-
-I can't say any of us liked the work. For one thing we all sickened
-of the endless slaughter. For another, the stench and dirt were
-overwhelming. The island should have been a fine place for living.
-There were sheltered spots for houses, a small harbor, woodlots,
-meadows for cattle and pigs, some bottom land for food crops, the sea
-for fish--a fine location; but it was ruined by birds. It was a slimy,
-stinking hell.
-
-The birds flew everywhere in huge flocks, especially in the morning
-when the gannets and fulmars came back from fishing at sea. Excrement
-fell from the sky like a stinking sleet. We couldn't get away from the
-smell or the smell away from us. It was in our clothing, hair, under
-our fingernails. No watermen ever washed so often or so thoroughly as
-we did, but the stink remained. We lost weight and appetite steadily,
-for the packaged food tasted of excrement soon after it was opened, or
-seemed to, which is just as bad.
-
-However, by the end of June most of the birds had left, and we had our
-helicopter inspection. The same man who was fascinated by the cold
-remains of a couple of eggs in my kitchen was on this route, and we
-cooked three or four of our chickens. His enormous appetite sharpened
-ours, and we had a feast. He was almost tearfully grateful. By July,
-the freighter had put in, loaded, and left. For the first time in many
-months, we were unoccupied.
-
-Bill and Joy immediately set about knitting a large drift net. They
-were happily excited at the prospect of gilling large numbers of
-government fish. As for me, I sat down to read a book on small animal
-ecology.
-
-I read that book through three times. I kept at it night and day, and
-it was the hardest work I've ever done, because I wasn't reading just
-to pass the time. There was a message in that book, I was sure of it, a
-message from Carter, a man I liked and trusted.
-
-By the time I began to get a glimmering of an idea as to what Carter's
-message was, the boys had their net knitted and hung. I went back to
-the book to find out what to do about this idea, and the boys sailed
-out to drift the net. I waited for them in a sweat of impatience. They
-came back at dawn the next day with a boat load of food fish. I met
-them at the wharf.
-
-"Bill," I said, "what are you going to do with that load of fish?"
-
-Bill looked at the fish. He said with slow and tremendous satisfaction,
-"I aim to eat them fish, George Henry."
-
-"Bill," I said, "not even you can eat all those fish. I've got a
-scheme. Save back some of the fish, sure. Let Joy smoke a few even. But
-take the rest into Murdock tonight and sell them to Hornsby. He used to
-buy my oysters. He'll buy your fish."
-
-"What for?" Bill asked.
-
-"Get some bootleg gin," I said.
-
-"That makes sense. What else?"
-
-"Rats," I said. "I want rats. Buy some traps or get Pete Younger to
-make some. Not muskrats. Barn rats. As many as you can catch."
-
-"Fish," Bill said. "Fish for rats. Boy, the birds has got you."
-
-He gave in after a while, more to keep me good natured than for any
-other reason, that and the gin. He came back with two dozen live,
-healthy specimens, and watched with an open mouth as I let them loose.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-The months passed, and I was worried. To drive the problem from my
-head, I took the boat out and surveyed the shallow waters off the
-island. I found something. I found a bed of oysters in broken rock,
-a bed not marked on WFI charts, because you could see it hadn't been
-worked for a long time. Later, I located clam beds on the marshy side
-of the island. The damn place was a paradise, or might be, once those
-birds were cut down, but I couldn't eliminate them by sheer slaughter
-because of the WFI.
-
-There didn't seem to be many rats around. December came and all the
-filthy, stinking work with it, and still no rats. Once in a while, eggs
-would be missing from occupied nests, and that was all. Gulls could
-have gotten those. We toiled through stinking February, foul March,
-odiferous April, and evil-smelling May. Still no rats.
-
-I sent Bill back to the mainland for more; and by September, rats were
-everywhere. Bill looked at me from his bunk one night and said, "I hope
-you're satisfied."
-
-I was more than that. I was terrified. They absolutely swarmed. It
-was impossible to walk from the barracks to the boat at mid-day
-without having to kick rats off the path. They consumed most of the
-non-metallic gear in the boat, including the sail. So far, they hadn't
-gnawed a way into our barracks store room, or we'd have literally
-starved to death.
-
-"Boys," I said, "just sit tight. Wait till December. These rats are the
-best friends you ever had. They're going to make this island livable.
-No more stink and stench."
-
-"What," said Bill, "are you going to do with the rats when the birds
-are gone?"
-
-Joy merely moaned.
-
-"We'll kill them."
-
-"If they don't get us first," Bill said.
-
-It was an awesome and bloody slaughter. The fulmars and gannets, most
-of the gulls, some of the terns, were either wiped out or harried
-off the island in a single season. And the island became a heaving,
-moving, revolting mass of rats, and nothing but rats. They attacked us
-on sight, from sheer hunger. Not a blade of grass grew anywhere on the
-island, and rats are not grass eaters as an ordinary thing. There was
-one hopeful sign. They were beginning to eat each other.
-
-Day after day we were caged in our barracks. The constant squealing and
-scratching under the barracks was bad enough. What made us desperate
-was the fact that they had gnawed a way into the store room and most of
-the packaged food was gone. We still had some smoked fish hung on the
-rafters, and a few salted fulmars in the barrel, but that was all. It
-was then that we remembered the two-way radio, marked "Use in emergency
-only". Bill said, after weighing all the evidence coolly and carefully,
-that this here, in his opinion, was an emergency.
-
-I got WFI mainland and finally persuaded them to put me in touch
-with Carter, Bird Stations Ecologist. I told him we were having a
-little trouble with the genus Rattus, and would he, for God's sake,
-do something about it, quick. I can still near him laughing. It was a
-while before he could speak at all.
-
-"Keep them at bay, general. I'll be over early tomorrow morning."
-
-I don't believe any men have ever been so happy to see Carter as we
-were.
-
-"They'll balance," he said. "Starvation will do its work. I've brought
-along a couple of pairs of barn owls. They'll help a lot. I see you
-read that ecology book. Good job. Station virtually wiped out. I'm
-sending supplies over in a week's time. Anybody wants to know, you're
-supposed to be helping extend and restore the tern and gull colonies.
-Wouldn't be a bad idea to try a few other animal experiments. Milder,
-though. Smaller scale. Send canvas for a sail too."
-
-He was gone before we could answer. The small freighter put in July
-fifteenth. She had no cargo of processed birds to take back, of course.
-The captain detailed a few men to unload our supplies, and we helped
-them eagerly. There were six calves and heifers, two cows and a bull,
-five pigs, one boar and two sows, several dozen hens and a rooster.
-Best of all, there was a big case containing seeds: corn, barley, oats,
-seed potatoes, melons, beets, kale, dozens of others. A plow and two
-draught horses, mare and stallion. Several pounds of rat poison. A hand
-forge and several tons of coke. Iron. A hundred pounds of linen twine
-for nets, as well as ropes of all sizes. Canvas. Tools of all kinds. A
-big medical kit.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-In a year's time, we had prospered. No richer land, due to the bird
-droppings, was ever farmed. And the sandier areas could be depended
-upon for melons and other crops demanding a lighter, drier, and not
-so rich soil. Not only that, but we were five, now, instead of three.
-The Jackson boys had lured a couple of husky girls to the island in the
-boat. The boys claimed the women fell in love with them. I think they
-fell in love with the island.
-
-This fast work on the part of the Jacksons seemed a little rash to me.
-I was still not at all sure we'd be allowed to remain and enjoy the
-work we had done. Several times, I was tempted to use the radio again,
-but decided to wait. I'm glad now I did.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-In August, a little more than a year after his last visit, Carter set
-his helicopter down at the wharf again.
-
-After lunch in the barracks of baked fish, fresh milk, potatoes, salad,
-and melons, he pushed back his chair and said, "I suppose you've been
-wondering."
-
-"We'd like to know," I said.
-
-He nodded. "The mainland's going to pieces. So is the whole world. It
-isn't just food. We can still produce that. Remember what you said
-about the bad roads, bad telephones? You put your finger on it. So
-much manpower, machinery, energy, material is used up in getting food
-and processing it and distributing it, there isn't enough for other
-things. A tenth of the world's population and a quarter of its total
-power resources go into processing plankton alone. We are literally
-eating ourselves to death. Utilities and services are breaking down
-rapidly. No new dwellings of any kind have been built for ten years
-or more. Oil is short, cement, iron, steel, coal, plastics, wiring,
-radios, telephones, everything is in short supply and getting shorter.
-Transport is staggering to a halt."
-
-He paused, took off his glasses, and twirled them by one side piece.
-
-"Many of us saw it coming. A few decided to do something. We thought
-there should be undisturbed nuclei, a few able people with ample food
-supplies. You are one such center. There are others at various bird
-stations along the coast. You'll be joined shortly by a few more
-people, young men and women, among them a trained nurse, a doctor, a
-skilled carpenter, so on."
-
-Bill cleared his throat.
-
-"What you said, I guess it was all around me, only I never seen it, not
-to put together. Just one thing. The manager at the Food Plant, he used
-to stop and kid me about all the fish I'd stole from the government in
-my time. He was abraggin' about how WFI had newer and better ways of
-gettin' things done, always newer and better every year. How come they
-couldn't keep caught up?"
-
-"Bill, those new techniques that manager talked about were old stuff a
-hundred, two hundred years ago. The applications are new, some of them,
-but the basic ideas are old.
-
-"The World Food Institute drew off all the scientific, inventive brains
-of the world, and put them to chasing food. No time for basic research,
-basic development; just time for tinkering and retinkering old ideas.
-Been no new basic idea for a couple of centuries. Too much need for
-immediate, practical results. The well is dry, and it won't be filled
-again with a reservoir of new, big ideas, not in our time. Been living
-off the past; and the present has caught up with us."
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-Before Carter left the island to visit the other stations, I had a
-chance to have a talk with him.
-
-"Was that sociologist, Ranson, in on this?"
-
-"No. We had to be careful. Still have to be. Just a few of us. That's
-why the loss of the bird colonies here had to seem natural, or at least
-a natural accident. And I had to keep clear of it. You can see that."
-
-"Carter, what happens on the mainland when things break up?"
-
-"Won't be pretty. Bad. Very bad."
-
-"For example?"
-
-"You read the ecology book. What happens when a species multiplies
-beyond its ability to feed itself?"
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-A dozen new Rollins Islanders showed up a few at a time in Carter's
-helicopter. We've been working and waiting a long time now, waiting for
-Carter to come back. For over a year now, our boat has made no crossing
-to the mainland. Last night, over twenty-five miles of sea in clear
-weather, we saw the sky lit by a great fire.
-
-I haven't forgotten those rats. I dream about them, tearing one another
-with bloody fangs.
-
-
-
-
-
-End of Project Gutenberg's Ecology on Rollins Island, by Varley Lang
-
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