Wouldn’t it be nice if some really clever author wrote about beavers in a national magazine and featured Cheryl’s lovely photo and my frequently imitated graphic. Maybe a magazine not specific to wildlife, like AARP or Garden Clubs of America.
Use the arrows to flip through and read.
Garden clubs of AmerucaThe only thing I understand less than people’s fascination with orphaned beaver kits in rehab is their fascination for stories about beavers being hurled from moving vehicles at great heights. But I am an outlier and hardly a representative sample.
So if you’re a beaver rehab junkie here’s your fix.
Two orphaned baby beavers are growing up on-screen for all to see, thanks to a 24/7 livestream webcam at the Interior Wildlife Rehabilitation Society in Summerland.
The baby beavers, which are called kits, are named Tiny Tom and Baby Nelson.
Both Tom and Nelson were found without a family and were brought to the Wildlife Rehabilitation Centre. While the kits are unrelated, they have become bonded while living together at the centre.
The kits will live at the rehab society in Summerland until they are two years old, when they will be released into the wild.
“To monitor how our patients are doing without disturbing them, we have installed web-cameras in some of our enclosures at Interior Wildlife’s Summerland rehabilitation facility,” said Eva Hartmann, founder of the Interior Wildlife Rehabilitation Society.
Since September, the centre has been posting the livestream of the kits to YouTube and on the Interior Wildlife Website.
Since the facility is not open to the public, the new “Beaver Cam” allows people to stay up to date on how Tiny Tom and Baby Nelson are doing.
There is grooming and scratching at the moment and I suspect sleeping soon. I would much rather see a beaver in the wild than two orphans whose parents were killed by trappers but hey, that’s just me.
Everything about this article appealed to me, starting with the water potato that I had never heard of and the tribal elder in Idaho who had said what the watershed needed was BEAVERS,’
The tiny potato at the heart of one tribe’s fight against climate changeLast October, Aiyana James attended her first water potato harvest on the reservation of the Coeur d’Alene Tribe in northwestern Idaho. The weather was unusually cold, but she was determined to harvest her first water potatoes, a small wetland tuber that’s one of the tribe’s key traditional foods.
After their land in northwest Idaho was carved up by 1909 federal allotment policies, Western agriculture, and logging thatback persists on some level today, the Coeur d’Alene Tribe lost a massive amount of acreage and, with it, their ability to manage the land and maintain balance between environmental protection and economic development. Salmon and trout disappeared from the streams. Fires became more frequent and powerful. Water potatoes and other key plants like camas, once staple foods for tribal members, started to disappear.
Now, extreme drought is making the situation even worse.
All of this is part of a reinforcing cycle of land degradation and climate change that the Coeur d’Alene Tribe has been fighting for decades. It’s a fight that James has now joined as one of the tribe’s first climate resilience coordinators.
No I had never heard about this little water potato either. But when it was described as a tuber it made me think of the cattail root that beavers eat. I have heard that it can even be made into flour for humans. So that wasn’t completely mysterious but you’d be surprised how many pictures of water potatoes there are NOT on the internet.
The tribe is bringing back beavers and salmon, restoring native grasses, and repairing stream channels. Collectively, those efforts are designed to restore balance to the landscape, make it more resilient to future climate change by fostering interconnected ecosystems, and, tribal members hope, one day allow them to rely again on important ancestral foods like the water potato.
In the summer of 2022, an adult salmon swam in Hangman Creek for the first time in around 100 years. Two years after the tribe released juvenile salmon into the creek, and after an arduous journey out to the Pacific Ocean and back, the tribe welcomed salmon back to the creek for the first time in generations.
For Ralph Allan Jr., the tribe’s fish and wildlife program manager, it was the culmination of 20 years of work that began with long days of fieldwork like planting trees. Now, he’s leading the department as it prepares to bring salmon back to the reservation.
Yes bringing back the salmon is a mighty fine goal to achieve. Congratulations. But guess what;s an even better one?
The beaver dams also support clean, cold-water habitats for salmon, but to do that, they need trees. Since 2019, the tribe’s environmental programs department has planted over 18,000 trees from about a dozen different species, and plans to plant another 4,000 by 2025.
The tribe has used beaver dam analogs — man-made approximations — to encourage beavers to return and posts to reinforce existing beaver dams. Gerald Green, a wildlife biologist for the tribe, says they are currently supporting about seven beaver dams in the creek.
Trees, beavers, salmon, water — they’re all part of a cyclical, interdependent system the tribe is trying to restore and support. Cajetan Matheson, natural resource director and a tribal council member, says that addressing climate impacts or restoration goals one by one will not work. “Everything is really related to each other,” Matheson said. “You can’t just clear-cut a mountain and say, ‘Oh, now we’ve defeated the fire problem.’ There’s way more to it than that.”
Wow now that’s truly getting the big picture. Plant trees, make food and shelter for beavers, who in turn make homes for juvenile salmon clean the water and sustain all kinds of wildlife. I think this is going to work!
Almost everyone I talked to in the Natural Resources Department credits that perspective to Felix Aripa, a tribal elder who died in 2016. He is seen as instrumental in setting the tone for the tribe’s restoration work.
He was an early proponent of using beavers as a restoration partner and helped with things as straightforward as pointing out where a stream used to flow so that the technicians could use that as a guideline to restore the course rather than starting from scratch or guesswork. “The ultimate goal for anybody that works here in the Fish and Wildlife Program is to leave a legacy e way that Felix Aripa left his legacy and his mark on the program,” Allan said.
Before he passed away, Aripa helped Matheson and others put the tribe’s traditional seasonal calendar on paper. The calendar, which is based on seasonal indicators like tree sap rather than months and days, includes detailed information about foods, ecosystems, plants, animals, and human activities. “As we’re thinking broadly about how we approach restoration, it’s the framework that we can use,” Laura Laumatia, the tribe’s environmental programs manager, said. “It represents millennia of knowledge.”
Wow. I am always interested in stories about early advocates for beavers. Whether they are tribal or not. Felix intrigues me but there are too few stories of him on the internet. I did find one video which i will share. But we should always assume that somewhere in the background there is always a wise voice saying, YOU need to bring back the BEAVERS!
Just one question. Do beavers eat water potatoes?
Bonus points? The article comes with an awesome new video that is the best visual for hypoheic exchange at a beaver dam I’ve seen. Enjoy and share,
I admit that I read this article with one eyebrow arched, ready to mock it wherever possible. But there are parts of it I found genuinely wise, so either its very well written or I’m getting soft in my old age.
The fact that humans are animals is not a point rewilding facilitator Vanessa Chakour wants to be swept under the socio-cultural rug. In fact, exploring our inner and outer landscapes from the vantage of our interconnectedness with the web of life leads to pleasure, love, wonder, healing, and connection. In illustrating the wild tapestry that binds us to all we call primal, Chakour shows what it takes for humans to leave the enclosures within our minds, rehabilitate our bond with nature, and finally return our hearts to their true home: Earth.
Stories are the architects of our human world, shaping how we perceive and interact with everything around us. As a child, foxes, birds, butterflies, bats, and countless other creatures populated my storybooks. I devoured books like Charlotte’s Web, where animals were intelligent, complex beings with rich emotional lives. But as I grew older, a painful dissonance grew between my reality and the “civilized” world where more-than-human animals were seen as intellectually and spiritually inferior and, in some cases, devoid of emotion. For far too long, dominant narratives have alienated us from the natural world.
Well you won’t ever catch me disagreeing that stories are important. They saved beavers in Martinez. And the story of Martinez saving beavers inspired countless other stories around the globe. Telling stories is powerful.
By immersing ourselves in the natural world and understanding the unique roles of each species, we can forge a mutually beneficial relationship with our planet. Beavers offer an inspiring example: One of the few animals, like humans, that modify their habitat to be more comfortable. Beavers build homes to protect themselves and, as they build, they create and heal ecosystems.
Yes they do. And they do it without thinking about it. Beavers would neither read or write a book about creating and sustaining ecosystems that other animals depend on. They just do it. Every day and with their last breath.
While our current approach to conservation often treats nature as an entity needing protection from us, Indigenous cultures have long demonstrated the power of reciprocal stewardship, actively supporting the health and resilience of their ecosystems. This is evident in the fact that Indigenous people, who today live on less than 5 percent of global land and still deal with unconscionable injustices, protect a staggering 80 percent of the world’s biodiversity. Stewardship isn’t about “taming” nature but rather working in collaboration with nature’s incredible regenerative powers.
While land may legally belong to someone, ecosystems can never truly be owned. In practice, living landscapes belong to everyone and to no one. It isn’t necessary to buy land to steward land. In New York City parks, and many city parks around the world, people can volunteer to learn how to help forest and wetland restoration, plant and prune street trees, propagate native seeds, and monitor local wildlife. Land is more than a resource to be exploited or scenery to be maintained. The living earth is a complex ecosystem that sustains us all.
I like the idea that we can all be stewards. And that the ecosystems around us can never truly be owned. I think about the truly resilient morning glory vine that is part of the block on my built in the 1800’s home. It was obviously planted once by a dreamy resident who first settled in Martinez when it was mostly soil. It has stunning blue flowers that grow to the sun and over the years it has dominated the block or been stripped out or climbed willfully over walls and stripped paint from doorways. It has been ripped away so that lawns or tanbark could be laid in orderly fashion. And sometimes it has entirely disappeared from site and I miss it fondly.
Only to show up twining around a rosebush or snagging a foothold on a picket fence. Never allowing itself to be forgotten. We just live here for a while. It reminds me. Things like morning glories and beavers have a way of showing up uninvited. And we can learn from them and make our lives more beautiful.
It was fun to stumble across this article this morning. A who’s who of fauna literature with a highlight on beavers.
Dorothy Gale, of “Wizard of Oz” fame, was obviously not from the Pacific Northwest. If she was, she’d have known that lions and tigers don’t live in forests. She’d also have known that you are far more likely to see smaller creatures in the forest than larger ones — like, maybe, possums. Or beavers. Or owls.
Now, I will admit that I have lived in the PNW for quite a while now, and I still haven’t seen a beaver outside of a zoo. But I have seen evidence of their presence, and I have seen other wild animals and birds native to this area. One memorable morning, I was walking my dog and we came around a corner and startled a raccoon in the shrubbery. The raccoon reared up on its hind legs — MUCH larger than a Disney raccoon. My dog looked at me, turned around, and began walking quickly in the other direction. In that instance, discretion was the better part of valor — at least where my dog was concerned.
Whether or not you have had wildlife encounters of your own, I’d like to share with you some engrossing nonfiction books about some of our local creatures. Read on for a walk on the wild side:
Okay well most of the readers of this website HAVE seen a beaver outside of a zoo, but we get your point. Tell us about your suggestions.
Beavers
Not only do I agree that it is a good thing to read more about beavers, I have personally met three of the four of those authors and agree that they are worth pursuing! Half of them wrote about Martinez and one of them even came to Martinez.
Twice.
