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Adventures of a Modern Pirate: May 2019

I could not wash away the images of a large band of pirates launching massive cannon balls down upon penny-loafer-and-Rolex-wearing developers. With all the beauty I was surrounded by, my mind could not comprehend how anyone could bring themselves to develop land that was as pristine as what I was enjoying. 

But as my uncle said, “It is the way of the world. Put large objects in the Caribbean where they don’t belong. You’d think they were compensating for something.” 

Mentally, I had gone to Robin Masters’ estate and hired Magnum P.I. to investigate the so-called developers in hopes of discovering nefarious dealings in order to stop the developing and building permits. Meanwhile, TC was flying his chopper overhead watching said developers and dropping Molotov cocktails atop their heads, all while Higgins sent Zeus and Apollo out to chew on some developer buttocks. I did recall Zeus and Apollo preferred their meat rare with a side of moist penny loafers. 

I was upset and rightly so. Behind the palm trees we had made camp within, there was nothing but beauty in all directions and homes were far and few in between. I could not imagine bulldozers, excavators and tree mulchers pulverizing the beautiful landscape just to bring in brick masons, roofers, electricians, plumbers and the like. Where would all the waste go? 

I thought of the sea turtles and leatherbacks. There was a wide variety of birds in the Bahamas: the West Indian whistling duck, the piping plover, the Bahamian parrot, roseate spoonbill, flamingo, heron, reddish egret, cormorant, pelican, mocking bird and the smooth-billed ani. 

Also the warbler, white-crowned pigeon, red-legged thrush, barn owl, black-faced grassquit, nighthawk, painted bunting, indigo bunting, fly catcher, bananaquit, hummingbird, king bird and the cuckoo. The frigate bird, kingfisher, rail, tropicbird, water fowl, visiting piping plover and birds of prey such as the osprey. All of these had the potential of losing their homes to over-developing. 

I wanted to gather up every developer and hang them high for the world to see their guilty souls or lack thereof. 

“Here, have another beer,” my uncle said. “You look upset.” 

“Thanks.” 

Fast forward some 30 years and I see a striking resemblance all along NSB and surrounding areas. At what cost?

Developers be warned. 

Gotta get back to my coconut concoctions . . .

This column is part of an ongoing story of tales from the past that continues each month. Read Josh’s previous columns here:

To read more about Josh’s new novel, click here!

Joshua MacLeod is a NSB local and a Florida native. He is the author of Savage Tango and Chasing Latitudes. He lives with his dogs, Durango, Higgins and Oscar.

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