SPRINGFIELD, Mass. - The island of Island Pond had it in for Andrew Renna.

Or so it seemed one Saturday evening a few weeks ago. In the middle of a pounding storm, Mr. Renna looked out across the pond, which borders his backyard.

"It was raining crazy," he recalled. "I said, 'That wind's going to blow that thing right over here.' Ten minutes later it did. When it moves, it moves pretty quick."

The island, about the size of a football field, made a beeline for Mr. Renna's house -- crushing his three-foot chain-link fence, swamping his red-blue-and-purple flagstone patio, wrecking his dock, flooding his shed, hobbling his weeping willow, and drowning the oregano, cilantro, tomatoes and peppers in his garden. Then, with an insouciant shrug, it came to a standstill in Mr. Renna's backyard, an interloper squatting in stubborn silence.

"Normally when it floats you can actually hear the roots rip -- it sounds like ripping up carpet," said Mr. Renna, 51, a roofing and siding sales manager. "But this time, it didn't make any noise."