From the WTF files comes this very misleading article about tribal efforts to keep beaver dams from blocking salmon on the Skagit River in Western Washington. It’s a pretty remarkable obfuscation because by the second sentence in the article it pretty much erases years of research by Michael Pollock, (who works all of 70 miles away) and mislabels what a “beaver deceiver” actually is even though Snohomish County (which is the first place I learned about a beaver deceiver) is only 50 miles away . I have sent it to our salmon friends for their review and I’ll tell you what they say. The shocking part to me is that the tribe is actually working with NOAA who is paying Pollock’s salary to research and refute these bogus beliefs. I guess its like betting on both sides in a basketball game.
I suppose the believable part of the article is that beaver dams in culverts block salmon passage. It is true that there’s not much room to jump inside a culvert. (You might have clarified that, but I’m sure the salmon fishermen in Scotland are thrilled that you didn’t bother.) I guess you could get rid of all the culverts and the roads? Hmm, not likely. Still, the tribe working to plant unpopular trees to keep the evil beavers away is stunning. Read this. And this. And then read this to find out what a real ‘beaver deceiver’ actually is.
Sigh.
Full lunar eclipse tonight which ends with the start of winter solstice. Google tells me those events haven’t happened together since the year 1638. Because of all the recent volcanic activity, it’s predicted to be very red in color. Apparently the west coast of America is supposed to be the best vantage point, so the beavers are lucky. If you’d like a reminder that we still live on a planet, look up at 11:41pm PST. The whole eclipse will last about three hours.
The Moon’s The North Wind’s Cooky Vachel Lindsay What the Little Girl SaidThe Moon’s the North Wind’s cooky. He bites it, day by day, Until there’s but a rim of scraps That crumble all away. The South Wind is a baker. He kneads clouds in his den, And bakes a crisp new moon _that… greedy North… Wind… eats… again!_
