The Kiskadee of Death by Jan Dunlap Page A

they get past the Endangered Species Act?” Luce asked. “Or the Migratory Bird Treaty Act? They both charge the federal government with conservation responsibilities mandated by law.”
    Whoa. My wife had obviously recovered from her shock faster than I had from mine if she was referencing federal guidelines.
    â€œThat’s what we had working for us in Minnesota,” Luce continued. “The Treaty Act helped us put the heat on the Vikings football organization to modify the construction of their new stadium. Their original design called for about two football fields’ worth of glass, which is really attractive to people, but deadly for all the birds that fly right into the glass because they don’t realize it’s there. On top of that, the stadium isn’t far from where the Mississippi River cuts through downtown Minneapolis, which meant all that glass would be a deadly hazard for birds migrating along the flyway.”
    Oh yes.
    The Vikings.
    Their defense of the stadium project had brought new meaning to the word “oblivious.” After the initial outcry from bird lovers about the non-friendly bird design went nowhere, the local city councils took up the cause. They passed resolutions calling for bird-safe glass to be used, only to be equally ignored by the Minnesota Sports Facilities Authority, the group established by the state legislature to oversee the construction and operation of the new stadium.
    (And did I mention that the stadium was being built with almost a half billion of taxpayer dollars? Too bad we, the taxpayers, can’t cough up that kind of money for the purchase of more state nature preserves, but I guess that’s a bone that I—and my fellow conservation advocates—will just have to keep gnawing on.)
    Anyway, birders’ protests got louder, a citizens’ group was formed, the media jumped in, the Migratory Bird Treaty Act was invoked, the Minnesota Legal Defense Fund for Migratory Birds was organized, until finally, the sports authority began working with 3M to develop a product to use on the glass to make it bird-safe.
    Cynnie nodded. “I followed that fight. We’ve got the same problem here, basically, but even worse. We’ve got two flyways in jeopardy, and building glass is the tip of the iceberg. We’re looking at a huge building project that’ll reconfigure the landscape, deafening spacecraft launches that’ll drive away species, and masses of people in what is currently one of the most important birding sites in the western hemisphere. ”
    â€œBut the environmental guidelines,” I protested. “Even the Federal Aviation Administration has to comply. How can SpaceX get the approval to build a commercial spaceport where two major flyways converge?”
    â€œBureaucracy can be bought,” the naturalist observed, “or at least mollified. The deal is that the FAA completed their review, and gave SpaceX the green light if it took measures to mitigate the environmental damage.”
    â€œMeasures?” Luce echoed. “Mitigate? So it’s okay to do some damage, as long as it’s not as bad as it could possibly be?”
    For a few moments, all three of us were silent.
    â€œHoly crap,” I finally said out loud.
    â€œMy feelings exactly,” Cynnie said. “It’s like every other ecological disaster created by man. As long as it’s not in your backyard, tough luck for the people who do live nearby. It has to get personal before the big shots will do anything about it.”
    She smiled grimly. “And that’s my job. I aim to make it personal for everyone.”
    For some reason, her smile didn’t leave me all warm and toasty.
    â€œYo, Minnesota!”
    Schooner was standing a few feet away from our glum little group.
    â€œYou folks going to nail some grapefruit, or just yak all night?”
    â€œJust bringing them up to speed on our local