Greg Alderete has been hard at work to save the beavers in Farrell’s Marsh. He posted this yesterday on the FB Beaver Management Forum.
Meet Nathan May. A bright, curious, soon-to-be freshman Sentinel at Steilacoom High School. He loves gardening, the outdoors, science, and mostly learning.
I received a phone call from Nate after he read the Tacoma News Tribune’s feature documenting the trapping of beaver in the Puget Sound’s Farrell’s Marsh Wildlife Preserve. He had never been to the marsh and wanted to know how to get to it. I responded, better yet, how would you like me to take you there and we’ll kayak around the wetland. He jumped on it. While en route he asked me, “if the Marsh was a Wildlife Preserve then why is the town killing the beaver?” Great question. I said rather than me give you an answer why don’t you ask me after we kayak the marsh and visit the beaver dam. He agreed.
As we pushed off from the thickly vegetated shoreline two pair of nesting mallards launched from a cluster of dried cattails. The redwing blackbird was singing to a mate. The marsh was alive, as the ever vigil Blue Heron made a sweeping pass to a perch to watch us glide effortlessly on the glass-like aquatic paradise. Several first-time visitors from Graham had read about the marsh and came to see the beaver. We pointed them in the direction of the dam but informed them that they are rarely seen before dusk.
Within moments a woman running by us with her two dogs piously proclaimed that beaver don’t belong in the marsh. Nate looked stunned, I told him rarely will he change the mind of those comfortable in ignorance. Then redemptively, two women appeared near the footbridge. Are you the ones trying to save the beaver? Yes, we said, and they began applauding, thank you, thank you, thank you, they chanted. It took us about 90 minutes to tour the wetlands’ shallow mysterious dark waters. Most areas were 3 feet deep and near the dam 5 feet.src=”https://www.martinezbeavers.org/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2021/03/161387941_10159070657354518_8457375739612439981_n.jpg” alt=”” width=”342″ height=”239″>As Nate studied an amphibian egg mass below the chilled brown water, I asked him how can we save this wetland? Here’s what he said. We have an amazing wildlife habitat right in our back yard and most people don’t know it. We need to get my generation excited about restoring and preserving our wetlands so they can be enjoyed for years by us and those who will follow us.
The Farrell’s Marsh should be adopted by the science teachers in the Steilacoom school district as a living breathing laboratory. Rather than read about our wetlands students can walk to one of the most beautiful wetlands in the State. His idea is to have the students of Steilacoom adopt the marsh and commit to its preservation. Student volunteers will be given a certificate of commitment and their names will be submitted to the Steilacoom Historical Museum Society for the historical record.
He even suggested the Farrell’s Marsh College Scholarship, believing competition leads to success. He believes every local student should be required to examine one aspect of the marsh (a season, water, plants, animals, etc.) as a science project that will be presented to a panel of students, city council members, and science teachers. WOW, I said this is really a great idea, but then what happens when everyone goes home? We take our lessons learned and begin preparing for the next year’s Farrell Marsh Science Competition. He said I bet other wetlands are endangered so maybe the idea and challenge to other kids will spread through the State, the US….and the world. I said Nate, you have set the preconditions for success.>As we loaded the kayaks back into my truck, I asked him if he had time to think about his first question. He paused and looked back at the marsh.
His response stunned me, “It is a question no one should have to ask.”
And scene,
You don’t need one more weapons to save the beavers in Farrell’s Marsh. You don’t need to one more second of pressure or research, Just put Nate and maybe a few of his buddies on the floor in city hall and let them talk to the mayor. He is a water cannon that you just need to fire in the right direction to make this go the right way.
Oh and if Nate took some grammar school kids out for a field trip to explain why this all matters and you got a photographer to put it in the local paper it would be over.
Game. Set. and Match.
Jack, the jackal, yawned and stretched. The sun was up. “Ugh! Summer again. Hot days and hot nights…”
“Er…um…” said Gogol. “Monkey, I think you are talking about beavers. Yes, they do build dams with branches of trees, vegetation, rocks and mud. They live in shelters called lodges, to be safe from predators…”
It made me remember long ago, when the beavers first came to Martinez. Before the flow device and maybe even before the big meeting. The beaver dam in the incised channel of Alhambra Creek was rising every day. I guess the beavers were trying to keep up with the rainfall. But I remember one morning that earthen platform you used to stand on beside the dam to film the beavers was covered in water. The beavers had raised the dam in the night along one side and the water level was climbing up to the place where we all sat to watch the beavers – about three feet lower than the road which was 6 feet higher than where the creek was supposed to be.
Beavers have been called “Nature’s Engineers.” In fact, the Army of Corps of Engineers could learn a lot from beavers. Instead of re-engineering nature to serve narrow human interests, beavers engineer the natural environment to serve not just their own needs, but the needs of entire ecosystems. Before beavers were nearly extirpated from the Pacific Northwest over a hundred years ago, stream corridors were filled with beavers creating and maintaining complex, water-rich habitats that provided homes and food for a diverse array of fish and mammals, as well as humans.
One of the very first canoe trips we took back in the 90’s was along Tomales creek outside Pt Reyes National Park. It was so early in the story and we were so ignorant of everything that we were not surprised to learn from one of the old timers we met along the way that a beaver dam that would have blocked our progress was just ripped out the day before by a neighbor.
