Neighbors Cry As 'Shots' Fly

It may be the charm for scaring the blackbirds and cowbirds out of the cornfields, but the Multi-Bang propane cannon, a noisemaker that can be heard a mile away, does not win points with the neighbors.

When Brenndon Struk set up the noisemaker behind the Amagansett Farmers Market last week, complaints from those in the line of fire weren't far behind.

The sounds could be heard from back porches, front steps, private gardens, and nearby farms. For three days, golfers at the South Fork Country Club across the road had their concentrated swings shattered by the sound of simulated gunfire.

Without some effective scare device, Mr. Struk said this week, the birds land on the corn, strip the husks down and peck at the ears, making them unsalable.

720 Minutes

The cannon creates a gunshot sound, a clap, a bang, or a boom depending on whom you ask, at irregular intervals. It can be programmed to go off once a minute, every minute and a half, then once every 45 seconds, and so on between the hours of 7 a.m. and 7 p.m. - that's 720 minutes' worth of shotgun noise, although nothing is actually shot from the cannon.

"It's like Chinese water torture," Peter West said Monday. Mr. West, who lives on Amagansett's Main Street, called the police to complain about the noise on Aug. 5 at 8 p.m.

The police paid a visit to Mr. Struk, who had left the cannon on later than usual that night, to warn him he could be fined for violating the town noise ordinance if he didn't turn it off.

Superseding Law

Mr. Struk promptly informed the police that, as a farmer, he was within his rights to use such a method of crop protection, and a little research confirmed his claim.

Not only do town noise regulations provide an exception for agricultural activities between 6 a.m. and 8 p.m. "including but not limited to, machinery operation and loading and unloading of produce," but a 1982 "right to farm" law in Suffolk County's code bars nuisance complaints against agricultural operations unless the activities in question adversely impact the public health and safety.

Agricultural activities may, the law says, "occur on holidays, Sundays, and weekdays, at night and in the day, and the noise, odors, dust, and fumes that are caused by them are . . . permitted as part of the exercise of this right. . . ."

County Code

The law was adopted after county legislators found that, when nonagricultural uses moved onto agricultural lands, farms often became the target of nuisance suits. The law states that "whatever nuisance may be caused to others by such uses and activities. . .is more than offset by the benefits from farming to the neighborhood and community and to society in general."

"Being this is the Hamptons, people don't want to be inconvenienced," Mr. Struk said Monday, sitting outside the bustling market he and his mother, Pat Struk, run. "That's why farmers are looking at areas off Long Island, because of all the large expensive homes bordering the fields."

Barking And Barking

Mr. Struk's fields on Old Stone Highway in Amagansett are across the street from the golf course, next to the Quail Hill Community Farm, and north of the Amagansett business district. A large parcel he has farmed for quite some time will be the site of additional holes for the South Fork Country Club in the next few years.

"We value our farmland, we love to look at the fields and eat the fresh produce," said Jane Makley, "but this one day, I couldn't believe it, I thought maybe somebody was standing there with a gun. It got me very on edge."

Ms. Makley lives on Abram's Landing Road. Her backyard faces the South Fork Country Club's golf course and looks out over the fields along Old Stone Highway. When the shotgun sounds in the nearby field started up, the blasts set her dog barking, and barking and barking. He finally got used to it, she said.

Ms. Makley said that the cannon was in operation a few years ago too, when she was dog-sitting for a Jack Russell terrier just before harvesting time. Then, she said, the barking was constant as long as the cannon was in operation.

Forget Scarecrows

"I find it so difficult to believe there is not some other way," she said of the propane-powered device. "It's an awfully high-tech, almost violent way to do it." She questioned why Mr. Struk didn't use scarecrows or something more neighbor friendly.

"It's a rather tricky thing to discuss in a mixed farming and residential community," Scott Chaskey, the head farmer at the Peconic Land Trust's Quail Hill Farm, said this week. Quail Hill, which grows produce for members rather than the market, doesn't use a propane cannon to frighten the birds.

"But I hesitate to condemn another farmer if he feels that's what he needs. They do work. We tried Scare-Eye balloons; they don't work. We had wonderful scarecrows donated by local artists; they don't work either."

1993 Incident

The Multi-Bang propane cannon is commonly used in retail farming operations, and is also a common source of neighbor complaints. In 1993 Andrew Babinski Jr., a Southampton farmer, was using a similar device in his melon and vegetable fields when neighbors brought complaints to Southampton Town officials. That town, in turn, sought advice from the New York State Department of Agriculture and Markets and the Cornell Cooperative Extension. The question was, did use of the cannon fall under "sound agricultural practice"?

Paul D. Curtis, a wildlife specialist with the extension, responded with a letter to the Southampton Town Planning Board. It read: "Scare devices that produce sounds other than alarm/distress calls have no persistent effect on birds," and, further, "the longevity of scare tactics is increased when an element of surprise is incorporated into the bird management effort."

Fall Use?

By this time, the Department of Agriculture had visited Mr. Babinski's farm, heard the noise, and determined that given the circumstances using the device was neither excessive nor unwarranted.

By the time Mr. Struk talked to The Star on Monday, the propane cannon had been turned off. He could have had it on for a few more days, but the backlash convinced him otherwise. He's still harvesting corn in the 12-acre field, but said he had taken a 10 to 15-percent loss from bird damage this year. Another four acres will be ready for harvesting in the fall and, if the blackbirds begin to do damage then, he said he would use the propane cannon again.

"It's just total disregard for anyone else except their damn cornfield," Mr. West said. "They'd be better off hiring somebody to go out there banging pots and pans than to create all this ill will."

Mr. West acknowledged that he shops at the Farmers Market, which is just down the street from his house. "And I complain, too," he said.

"At the same time I feel there is often undue pressure on farmers, I also feel farmers, as generally overworked as they are, have an obligation to look into every possible method that can make them get along better with their neighbors," Mr. Chaskey suggested.

A Sagaponack farmer, Ralph Dayton, had complaints about noise, dust, and spraying from his neighbors in past years, but has tried to avoid some of the problems this year by adjusting his practices.

"You'd like to think you live in a bubble. [You wonder] why don't these people understand. But the fact of the matter is, they don't have to. You have to say, if I want to do this long term in this area, I may have to change some of my methods," Mr. Dayton said.

Over in Amagansett, relative peace has been restored to the neighborhood this week. The propane cannon is at rest.