Hmm what’s on Tuesdays agenda? Today I’m going to be on Humbolt radio with Ben Goldfarb and Tom Wheeler of EPIC discussing beavers and salmon and then I’m getting a haircut. My life is such that at the moment I’m actually more worried about the haircut, but I guess both could be a fiasco. I’ll keep you posted.
Meanwhile it’s time for another beaver first. Beaver poem in the New Yorker. by Maggie Millner. Click on the image to listen to the reading.
Etiology
I was born to watch the beavers’ chewing
flood the pond. Fated to bear witness
to such confident accretion, my life was bitten down
into a point that pointed toward
the dome, its whole shorn forest brought to thatch,
incredibly, by teeth. There is a seal
that spends each morning blunting its incisors
on the ice— rasping open breathing holes
that close if not routinely shaven back—
until one day its teeth, now dull and domed,
stop breaking through, the animal beating
its soft enamel on the ceiling
as it drowns. There can be no proceeding from.
There is only gnawing through the visible,
wearing down the center between living
and its damages, until the center’s broken door
stops granting us admission to our lives.
The beavers graft another layer on the dam.
They slap their tails so loud a sound
like falling dice skitters the smooth,
unfrozen surface of the pond. Or what had been the pond
before it overflowed its banks and drowned
the meadow and the campsite and the fire pit we used
to turn our spits over, the tusky wooden tapers
of our spits. I was born in time to see it swamp,
my life a parallel, accumulative loss of definition.
If I am still enough, the beavers will reveal their door,
the jamb of which they clot into a lodge before my eyes,
the underwater hatch through which their chambered
penetralia take shape. My ways, my mammal acumen,
are forgeries of theirs— to have been underwater
all that time, salient to the outer world
only as a dome, before tearing through the doorway
of that world, loud and blue
and sure my life was mine.
Hmm something tells me these are symbolic (and not actual) beavers. Too bad she wasn’t born to watch beavers create ecosystems or prevent fires. Of course the New Yorker has given us many of our best beaver cartoons. Who could ever forget this my all-time favorite? If you know the science it’s not even funny.
Alright, you’ve had your culture. Now it’s time for some radio fun. I’ll post the link when I can. Oh and happy Birthday to a certain Beaver author who’s making the news a lot lately.
Finally. Tim Hon’s fantastic mural gets the attention it deserves with a wonderful article in the Gazette. I’m not sure how I missed this, it’s dated last month. My favorite part? The part where it makes it very, very clear I’m not to blame in any way.
MARTINEZ, Calif. – When artist Tim Hon made his first stroll of Martinez’s downtown area a few years ago, he was impressed. Little did he know the walk would lead to his creating a popular mural on the side of one of its businesses.
And the owner of the business that bears the mural hopes it will help extend the downtown Martinez “renaissance” well past Main Street.
“I was really impressed with how quaint it was, and had so much character compared to surrounding areas,” Hon said about his exploration of his new home town.
Hon is familiar with a place with character. He moved to Martinez from Berkeley, which has a strong vibe of its own.
But Hon’s first trip to Martinez’s downtown took an unexpected turn. “I randomly stumbled upon the beavers in the creek!” he said.
“It was such an amazing experience. I just stood there on the bridge watching them work for a few hours. It was just incredible how they could be here amidst this ‘urban’ area,” he said.
If there’s another city where a graffiti artist randomly happens upon a family of beavers and is inspired to create art, I surely don’t know where it is. And honestly, you don’t either. I’m so glad that this engaging mural is getting the attention it deserves.
The mural is not a commissioned piece, Hon said. “It was done out of my own accord,” he said. Bernard helped out by purchasing the needed materials.
Because the building’s surface of metal and glass wasn’t ideal for a painting, Bernard put up plywood paneling on which Hon could paint.
Those panels serve a dual purpose, he added. “We weren’t sure if the city would accept it or try to remove it,” Hon said. “So we put it on panels in case we needed to move it.”
“I didn’t want to gamble with the painting,” Bernard said.
As Hon was doing preparatory plans for the mural, he learned about the Martinez Beaver Festival June 28 in Susana Park, which highlighted the work of Napa street painter Amy G. Hall, who made a sidewalk mural of a beaver pond in the center of the park.
Hon met with Heidi Perryman, whose Worth a Dam organization started the festival to let residents express their support for the aquatic dam builders that originally were controversial but have become unofficial mascots of the city.
The more Hon learned about the beavers and their festival, the more he wanted to coincide the timing of his mural with the celebration. “So I actually started that mural the day before the Beaver Festival,” he said.
And it wasn’t Heid’s fault. So there. Plus this mural is getting the positive reception it so rightly deserves.
“It turns out it’s unanimously beloved by everybody,” Bernard said. He said Martinez Police’s answer to the lip-synch video challenge may incorporate the mural. He’s heard the painting praised by members of the Martinez Council, and said Mayor Rob Schroder notices it on his daily walks past the building.
And for the artist?
“It was a fun experience, interacting with the public and watching people’s reactions,” Hon said. “And that is really why I do it. Kids especially were so amazed and got so happy.”
Nice! Here’s a little fun fact because we know each other so well. A supporter of Worth A Dam’s child was once a waitress at the breakfast restaurant right across from the mural. Guess who she noticed coming for breakfast every friday morning? That would be the fine mayor of our city and the wealthy property owner who originally threatened to sue the city over the beavers prompting the city to respond by trapping. Such a coincidence! Now their little breakfast cabal can be held in the shadow of a giant beaver mural.
Isn’t this a beautiful painting by Lucy Arnold? It’s title is “Friends of the Eel River”. There’s a banana slug and a flying bat and a hermit thrush. But Hmm. Something seems to be missing. I can’t quite put my finger on it.
The Eel river is the third longest river in California and stretches from the top edge of Fort Brag all the way to Fortuna where it empties into the sea. You can be sure that its long range means that it was popular with the fur trade who generally made sure that it was empty of beavers by the mid 1800s.
Turns out it’s still pretty empty of beavers. Even though in recent years there has been concerted effort to teach folks about their benefits and beaver champion Brock Dolman himself spoke at the Save the Eel symposium a few years back, there still aren’t many. Megan Isadore of River Otter Ecology posted this the other night on facebook and I was reminded how rare they still are in the region.
Talia doesn’t see beaver on the eel. If you go to her lovely website there are no photographs of beaver. Over the years of processing depredation permits for the state I have come across only one or two for beavers in the region.
The eel river has a beaver shortage. That has to change.
Recently I received a huge stack of beaver papers from Duncan Haley of Norway. He’s a beaver buddy that makes a point of letting folks know the latest beaver research. Most of it is far over my head about population dynamics and genetic skewing, but I am always enthusiastic and grateful so he keeps sending them anyway.
I sent him back the article about Ben’s book in National Geographic and I was surprised he hadn’t seen it already. In fact I realized none of the reviews I covered here had been European. Which prompted me to mention this omission to Ben who said he talk to his publicist.
Well I don’t know if this has anything to do with that conversation or would have happened anyway, but I was happy to see this yesterday.
The British experience of beavers is somewhat limited. Most of us haven’t been lucky enough to have spied an immigrant rodent in the wilds of west Devon, or paid a visit to Knapdale and Alyth in Scotland.
Eager is the story of why the American (and to some extent European) landscape looks the way it does — because of those mountain men and fur trappers who rampaged across North America 400 years ago, killing beavers for their soft fur and mindlessly altering the topography of the continent simply because of the European fashion for beaver hats.
But Goldfarb seeks to show how beavers are so much more than this; creating meadows, re-forming rivers, mitigating floods, helping salmon populations, even halting climate change. Yet, maligned and misunderstood by modernity, this creature has continued to be trapped, shot and killed by those who see its natural architecture at odds with human habitation.
This is such a lovely and well-written review. Someone on facebook remarked that it was their favorite and I can see why. You can tell Ben made contact and left an impression. Oh and there’s even a MENTION a certain beaver festival from foreign soil.
These are some of the characters you meet in the book — people, who for one reason or another, have been drawn into the beaver’s orbit and built their enthusiastic home there, convinced the world could benefit from working with these aquatic rodents. There are volunteers so enthralled by the beaver that they have dedicated a festival to him (or her— beavers are very difficult to sex, but the male expresses an anal liquid that smells like motor oil while the female’s gland juice smells more like cheese).
Ahh!
There are also the ecologists, fluvial geomorphologists, farmers, scientists, salmon fanatics, ranchers, Scottish aristocrats, animal husbandry eccentrics and wildlife biologists. All these characters, as described by Goldfarb, are making the case for beavers as a natural ally of humanity.
This is a book densely packed with knowledge and research. For anyone un-familiar with ecological terminology, it can present difficulties, though Goldfarb does his best to explain the jargon. But his enthusiasm for the subject shines through. By the end it’s hard not to become a beaver believer yourself.
Well that ought to sell a few copies in the UK! Nice job Felicity Morse. This is a great introduction to a book that will become the beavers best friend. I’m sure Ben is very pleased to see the reach broaden.
And speaking of beavers. the fur-trade and other calamities. Brock Dolman of the OAEC came across this drawing reprinted in a used Time Life Book from 1973 called The Trailblazers. This illustration was put together by James Isham in 1743 who was a trader employed by HBC. He also happened to be an avid journalist and took detailed notes on his experiences.
The drawing caught my eye because it reminded me at first so much of this drawing by a older boy our very first Earth day in 2008. But even more so because, compared to so much art of the day, it was very detailed and accurate. I’m super excited about this drawing and have a couple things to puzzle with you after you see it. So meet me after the break.
Here’s the scan Brock did from the book.
You’ll need to double click on this to really get close enough to read the text, but its worth doing. There is so much detail in this description about how beavers were hunted and pursued. But also so much mystery. Like the little chamber off the lodge in number 6 where the “Half beaver” lives (muskrat?) or the “vaults” which beavers can use to escape (burrows or tunnels?) Or the anatomical diagram which describes the tail, liver, penis bone, castor sacs and “Lights” (eyes?).
But also the fore feet?
Why describe the forefeet especially and not the back feet? The back feet of a beaver are way more curious by virtue of their being webbed. Was their some medicinal use that I don’t know about that made a market for forefeet?
I searched for hours on the internet and couldn’t come up with more detail or a better image of this map. What I did find was a reference to a researcher Adriana Craciun who believed very convincingly that this image wasn’t the work of Isham, but had in fact been drawn by a Cree indian who knew the trade.
One example of an artifact that Craciun discovered is James Isham’s Observations on Hudson’s Bay, a 1743 manuscript book that had been forgotten or ignored in the Hudson’s Bay Company archives in Winnipeg, Canada. Within the book, Beaver Hunting, an anatomically and technically detailed watercolor illustration, shows Cree people hunting, and includes a 30-point explanatory key. To Craciun’s trained eye, the illustration shows far more. “I think it may have been painted by a Cree illustrator, and at the very least shows the interconnected worlds of the Cree, English, and animals on the Hudson Bay, before the 19th-century British popularized their images of the ‘empty’ and ‘uninhabited’ Arctic,” she explains.
Hmm when I look at those LONG english noses and pipes I’m tempted to think someone’s highlighting how weird english faces look to a Cree? Also the level of detail is so much more direct than your average trapper would offer. Maybe the drawing of the “Fore feet” was even a kind of native trolling – teasing the clueless boss into thinking there was something special about them when everyone knows back feet are better!
Anyway, I love the drawing, and want the rest of his notes. Or at least the notes of people who observed it directly. Apparently if I was affiliated with an institution I could download this.
A few weeks before the beaver festival I was contacted by Tim Hon of Illuminaries who happened to live in Martinez and wanted to create a beaver mural because he had been surprised to see them one night when he first moved in. It was pretty exciting and especially wonderful that it had nothing to do with me and I wasn’t responsible in any way.
Mind you, I asked for one thing. That it look like an actual beaver and not a nutria of woodchuck. I even gave him some photos to work from, and even though our beavers never wore snorkels you can probably see the influence.
He had access to two privately owned places and asked what was involved in getting permission. Even though the approval for our beaver mural took a good number of meetings and several months to finagal, I was able to find out that there was no permit needed for private property in city limits.
The other property he was considering turned out to be on unincorporated land and the county of contra costa said they needed a permit costing 2500 dollars to paint it!
Thus, this little mural on the side of a ancient gas station was born. It just happens to be right across from the Copper Skillet, where I’m told the mayor has breakfast sometimes. I didn’t make him do it or try to stop it. Tim admitted he was a graffiti artist at heart, so doing things was easier for him than getting permission anyway,
He started it the day of the festival and just now finished the ice cream. Doesn’t it just make you happy? Tim cameby the festival afterwards and was very impressed to watch Amy’s temporary chalk creation, which I thought was fun. Bonus points! When our beavers moved upstream their interim lodge was in the creek right next to this property. And when I was in 7th grade I organized a car wash at this gas station to pay for a birthday cake for our beloved band teacher.
Long live the snorkling beaver!
My interview yesterday on BYU radio was fun and very polite. Marcus Smith started it off by saying Heidi Perryman of Worth A – oh goodness I need to swear on the radio – dam. He let me tell the story the way I wanted. Marcus seemed genuinely pleased that I was a civilian and asked a whether being a child psychologist helped me plan the festivals or fight the city, which I liked very much because people don’t usually act like it has anything to do with it. They were going to talk to Ben Goldfarb later in the day. I think I did okay, it will air in a couple weeks and I’ll give you the link then. The only odd part was that the host and his helpers were so polite – letting me say as much or little as I wanted – that sometimes I wasn’t totally sure they were paying attention and not, you know, checking their nails or something,
I’m from California for pete’s sake, I wanted to say, I’m used to more pressure!