To Peter Dederich and the National Park Service:
I am writing to you as an islander.
It is my understanding that the Park Service intends to exterminate the rabbit population at American Camp for the purpose of restoring the park’s native grasses and preserving historical artifacts.
The rabbits are not native; this I understand. But neither am I. I drive a gas-guzzling car down paved roads that erode our natural terrain; this produces runoff that poisons our water and soil. Every day I shower and send toxic chemicals down my drain, into the Puget Sound and eventually into the breathing bodies of our beloved orca whales. I pollute those same waters simply by using our ferry system, which pumps toxins into the air and water all day, every day.
Simply by being alive – by traveling, eating, bathing – each of us chips away at the natural wonder of this place we treasure and seek to preserve. Is it fair to demand that the rabbits share this space with us, and leave no trace? Could our energies be better spent considering our own impact on our environment, rather than convincing ourselves that killing living animals with guns and bullets and blood – not even for the sport of it, not even for their meat, but simply for the sake of having them gone — will somehow make this place more beautiful?
Every islander has something that most Americans don’t, and that is a relationship with place. We interact with the natural world in a way that is unique and unmatchable. Like every islander, I have a sacred relationship with this island, a relationship that was grown summer after summer, year after year, moment after moment in the dirt and rocks and water of San Juan. It is because of this relationship that I treasure this place, that I want to keep it beautiful, that I am back for the summer to give back to the environment and the community which grew me, nurtured me, made me what I am. I am here to give back, and I am here to defend the life I have led in this place.
Right now, I am defending the rabbits, because they have been here longer than I have, because they are embedded in my most beautiful island memories, and simply because they are alive and, I think, entitled to that life.
From the age of 5, I was raised on San Juan Island. For four years, during high school, I worked for an Eagle Cove resident, taking her dog on daily walks on the American Camp trails. As a result, I am deeply familiar with the trails and beaches at American Camp. Some of my fondest island memories include running, tripping, laughing hard out at American Camp as my big fuzzy black poodle went wild chasing those darned rabbits.
I am now returning from college for the summer to work two jobs. At night I work at as a hotel reservationist. Every night I speak with dozens of visitors, all of whom want to know what they “simply must see” during their short stay. Always, American Camp is my first recommendation, and I never forget to mention the rabbits. Tourists are thrilled at the idea of seeing foxes chasing rabbits into their warrens or catching a bald eagle on the hunt, shooting down and then soaring up, up out of the grasses with a bunny in its talons.
During the day, I work at Camp Eagle Rock as a counselor for kids in grades K-5. Several times already this summer, I have taken my campers – island kids and visiting kids – to the South End, where they get dirt under their fingernails, scrape their knees clambering up rocks, and quench their insatiable childhood thirst for discovery and adventure hiding in the grass, hoping to pop a rabbit with a driftwood gun or catch one with cardboard box and string or maybe even pet one, if they can just be quiet enough.
I understand that the Park Service wants to preserve the history of American Camp, and I respect that. But the Park Service must also understand that history is being made now, in the hearts and minds and scraped up knees of little island kids, making their first island memories at American Camp and, unlike so many American children today, developing a relationship with their place. Rabbits aren’t pets in cages for these kids; foxes aren’t cartoon characters in Disney movies; bald eagles aren’t glorified symbols next to American flags. These kids live with and in and through and for this place, for the way it goes on with and without them, for the way it pulls them outside to play and learn. They are surrounded by animals, by life and adventures that for most kids exist only on TV. Respect that history.
There is enough violence in our world; we waste enough energy trying to kill, beat, exterminate things. Let’s let our island live, let’s let it grow, let’s let our kids grow with it. Every child raised or family grown or individual found on this island has a unique and sacred relationship with its beautiful, silent, thriving natural spaces. We islanders appreciate this, we live for these moments, for this life that allows us to have a relationship with our place.
Well, my place is American Camp, and I’m asking you to let it live.
Wynn Barnard
Friday Harbor
