Buoy Bombs in Brackish Pond?

Chakratch loathed encountering a buoy bomb, never mind a herd. It was one thing to battle them in the Bol Bay, out in open water, where Chak did not have to concern himself with the possibility of social humiliation. It was another to find them wandered so far inland, intruding in the decorous residence of the southern forest. Chakratch had spent many cycles nurturing tribal relations with the southern colonies back to warm terms. These trees had been esteemed allies of his ancestors, and had expressed disapproval of their deaths by turning cold roots to the new generation. How many sugar errands and fungicides and aquifer upkeeps had Chak done to receive even the briefest of greetings? And now these blundering buoys were upcoast, likely from storm flooding, jeopardizing civil society with destructive salt shrapnel and psychic juice. Best show them downstream swiftly.