Because the beaver isn't just an animal; it's an ecosystem!

Category: History


So a couple months ago I was avidly reading “In Beaver World” by Enos Mills who was called the “John Muir of the Rockies”.

Beaver works are of economical and educational value besides adding a charm to the wilds. The beaver is a persistent practicer of conservation and should not perish from the hills and mountains of our land. Altogether, the beaver has so many interesting ways, is so useful, skillful, practical, and picturesque that his life and his deeds deserve a larger place in literature and in our hearts.

Enos Mills

I was was told by Robert Hanna, (Muir descendant and fellow board member) that the pair met in San Francisco at the beach and became friends with common interests. Robert directed me to some correspondence archived at University of the Pacific where I learned that Mills asked for an invite to Martinez in 1907 and Muir responded with a ‘please come’ in October of that year. My fancy was struck with the idea of the author of arguably the most important beaver book yet in circulation coming to Martinez, which would one day become the location of some pretty famous beavers.

There was no record at the Muir house of his visit. No one from UOP or the Sierra Club could tell me if it happened. The helpful rangers and interpretive guides couldn’t say whether the visit occurred or not. I eventually figured the trip would have been a bigger deal to Mills than Muir, so went looking at his site for clues. I had very enthusiastic guides from the Colorado Rockies national park and the Mills cabin looking through original documents and biographies. I learned that the copies of Muir’s letters were among the items found in Mills top desk drawer when he died, so they were clearly precious. Maybe it was too much to make the visit come true? Apparently Mills was a little hard on himself, and might not have been able to accept an offer that was so exactly what he wanted. I could understand that.

Then yesterdays fluke email turned me on to the California Digital Newspaper Collection and I spent yesterday ravaging history and not even getting dusty. I found articles from the 1800’s  about beavers in the Stanislaus, Merced, and Tuolumne rivers. I found articles encouraging the adoption of kits as pets, or using dam building as a weather indicator. I found articles about beavers at Bodega Bay and Santa Barbara.

And then I found this:

It’s from the San Francisco Call newspaper in March 1908 when Enos Mills was a guest speaker at the California Club, and it clearly says Mills will be a guest of John Muir on his visit. Which means Enos Mills came to Martinez when my house was ten years old. I imagine he took the train and went from the old station to the Muir house by carriage, riding over the creek which is home to our beavers and my home on his way. Golly.


Every now and then an unexpected treasure appears in my mail box. This one may just reset the bar. It’s from an insurance agent and amateur historian who just happened to be born in Martinez and send me an article he found in the Placerville Herald.  It describes the behavior of beavers building unusually early in the season, suggesting that this particular winter might be a doozy. Why is this important? Because the article is written in 1853, about 75 years before beaver were “introduced”  in the Sierras and Placerville is about 2200 feel elevation.

Talk about a kid in a candy shop. Check out this site if you have some time to kill. I know what I’ll be doing this weekend…

Our own FROgard Butler will have a one woman show tomorrow at the Walnut Creek Library. Stop by and see what she does with her time when she’s not busy making tails and singing the beaver song. There are a 100 nonprofits in the Bay Area that wish they could have FRO’s friendship and creative force, I see their eyes glisten wistfully when they stroll by our booth at Earth day or the Flyway Festival. They all want her. But they can’t have her. Beavers got their first.


The Miwok tribe  ranged from the north coast to the Sierra Foothills and Yosemite. They were the tribe associated with acorn grinding and if you’ve never seen a grinding rock you should stop by Chaw’se on your way to the Sierras someday and imagine all those lost conversations that must have taken place while the women worked side-by-side. Kroeber was especially interested in them because he believed they were one of the few native american tribes whose spirituality incorporated totems. We are particularly interested in them because two thirds of the tribe lived where beavers supposedly didn’t.

Yesterday I found an origin myth that I think makes a pincushion of that particular belief. It is an origin myth recorded by Edward Winslow Gifford in 1917 – 5 years before any beaver were reintroduced any where. Its the story about how the Miwok learned to make arrows for hunting. and since they were completely dependent on this adaption it is a tale of some importance.

The tale is told with a sing-song repetitive pattern in which every important idea is repeated more than once. It begins with the two brothers Dove and Prairie Falcon (how can that end well?) bemoaning their inability to hunt.

“What shall we do, brother? What shall we do? I would like to hunt. I do not know how we are to hunt. I do not know how we are to hunt. I do not know how we shall be able to hunt. I should like very much to hunt. I do not know how we can make arrows. We have nothing with which to cut. We know of nothing with which to cut. I do not know how we can hunt. We have nothing with which to cut. We do not know how to cut. I would like very much to hunt, brother. I do not know how we are to arrange it, but we will try. We have nothing with which to cut. I should like you and me to hunt together, brother. We have nothing with which to hunt.”

Wow, reading that paragraph is like sitting in a small room with an anxious asperger’s child, but I digress. It gets the point across rather vividly. The brothers had NO IDEA what to do. They NEEDED a solution. I guess the thinking is that when you fully grasp their desperation you might be more inclined to understand if not accept their solution.

“Let us throw our grandmother into the water. If she does not want to go, we will pull her in, We will throw the old woman, our grandmother, into the water. After you have thrown her into the water, pull her out quickly. Pull her out quickly. Do not keep her in the water long. Do not keep her in the water long.”

Well, that’s probably not the first thing I would have tried, but let’s see how it works.

Then Dove went. Dove went. He threw his grandmother into the water, threw her into the water. After he had thrown her into the water, be pulled her out quickly. He pulled her out quickly.  His brother said to him, “Pull one of her teeth. We will make a knife of it.” Then he pulled one of her teeth, pulled one of her teeth. After they obtained the tooth, they commenced to cut, commenced to cut.

At this point I understand if you’re thinking doubtfully, hey I thought you said this was going to be about beavers! Not elder abuse. Two juvenile delinquents dismantling their grandmother for parts is hardly the basis for a creation myth. When do we get to the part about beavers? Bear with me, it’s coming. I will spare you the part where they saw a pine bough with her tooth and  take out her sinew and use it for a string. She’s not exactly dead, but she’s not happy.

Their grandmother went into the water and cried and worried about herself. She said, “I did not think my boys would treat me this way.” Then the grandmother, who had turned into Beaver, said, “I will have revenge upon those boys.” She told the water to drown Prairie Falcon. The water came, while Prairie Falcon was digging, and drowned him. Dove escaped.

Whoa! Didn’t see that coming did you! Grandma turns into a beaver and she’s pretty homicidal.  Dove wails and cries (that’s why he’s always in mourning, get it?) and eventually Grandma makes sure he and Prairie Falcon gets dragged about the countryside and scraped pretty badly. “Spark” brings them back to life and they begin to see the error of their ways.

Now they had no grandmother. Prairie Falcon cried because his grandmother had turned into Beaver. They both cried and cried for their grandmother. They did not know how to get back their grandmother. They went along the river. They saw Beaver In the riffle, They said, “There is Beaver.” Beaver was their grandmother. They used to take their grandmother everywhere they went, but they lost their grandmother because of the arrows. At last they abandoned the search for her and went home. Their grandmother had turned into Beaver. Everybody made arrows thereafter. Dove, cried for his grandmother. Prairie Falcon cried, but they made arrows. They lost then, grandmother because of the arrows.

So Beaver helped Miwok make arrows. Meaning they made arrows sometimes out of beaver teeth, or used beaver teeth knives to carve arrows out of other material.Meaning that they had beavers. Meaning that historically beavers had a wider a range in California than Grandmothers.

North American bows, arrows, and quivers By Otis Tufton Mason


The hero who wrote down this story nearly 100 years ago was Edward W. Gifford. He was born in Oakland and took over the native museum in Yosemite from Kroeber when he retired. In all his prodigious work documenting native customs and people I can find no mention of his heritage, but looking at that very gentle face I would argue that his ethnicity speaks for itself.




This morning there were at least two beavers, one at the primary and one at the secondary – I feel more comfortable using that label because a thimbleful of work had been done and more was added while I watched. This video shows a kit-yearling adding mud to its base and I was happy to see it. I saw two branches being added as well with an opportunistic muskrat chewing one and swimming away with it. I can’t tell how securely they are anchored because the tide was still very high but it looks slightly more dam-like.

I promised I’d share yesterday’s accidental find, in which I happened upon a page following beaver heraldry throughout the ages. These were family crests and city emblems that represented beavers in the artwork because of the similarity in name – castor, bifru, beverlac, beverlay, kastorii…you get the gist. An example is the medieval town of Biberach in Germany, (the equivalent of our ‘beaverton’). It is noted by this crest – check out those beaver-boar tusks! They clearly knew there was something remarkable about those teeth.

Some of them were Dr. Seuss-looking comic beavers, but this next one took my breath away. Nice guard hairs and sharp eyes. Aside from the striking color, check out those toes. The back paw is webbed and the front has claws.

Is that the loveliest thing you ever saw? I’ve begged our foreign correspondent Alex of Frankfurt to translate as much as possible from the original text but I was so happy to find it!

 


Click to listen


My interview with Paul Haeder has been loaded as a podcast in case you want to listen to the Martinez Beavers on  radio. I’m told the link will be good for a few years so if you haven’t time today you can catch it in the future.  He also wrote this lovely post about it yesterday: which starts out with the inviting paragraph;

I’m thinking about beavers, as in Martinez, Calif., where John Muir ended up living, and where community activists have been fighting for these aquatic rodents and advocating for kids to learn about beavers’ positive impacts.

It’s a nice website all around. Scroll all the way down to the bottom of the page for a surprising treat.


XVII.

On the dam stood Pau-Puk-Keewis,
O’er his ankles flowed the streamlet,
Flowed the bright and silvery water,
And he spake unto the beaver,
With a smile he spake in this wise:
“O my friend Ahmeek, the beaver,
Cool and pleasant Is the water;
Let me dive into the water,
Let me rest there in your lodges;
Change me, too, into a beaver!”
11 month old beaver – Cheryl Reynolds
Cautiously replied the beaver,
With reserve he thus made answer:
“Let me first consult the others,
Let me ask the other beavers.”
Down he sank into the water,
Heavily sank he, as a stone sinks,
Down among the leaves and branches,
Brown and matted at the bottom.
Artist WH Gibson - Engraver John Filmer
From the bottom rose the beavers,
Silently above the surface
Rose one head and then another,
Till the pond seemed full of beavers,
Full of black and shining faces.
To the beavers Pau-Puk-Keewis
Spake entreating, said in this wise:
“Very pleasant Is your dwelling,
O my friends! and safe from danger;
Can you not, with all your cunning,
All your wisdom and contrivance,
Change me, too, into a beaver?”

“Yes!” replied Ahmeek, the beaver,
He the King of all the beavers,
“Let yourself slide down among us,
Down into the tranquil water.”
Down into the pond among them
Silently sank Pau-Puk-Keewis;
Black became his shirt of deer-skin,
Black his moccasins and leggings,
In a broad black tail behind him
Spread his fox-tails and his fringes;
He was changed into a beaver.

“Make me large,” said Pau-Puk-Keewis,
“Make me large and make me larger,
Larger than the other beavers.”
“Yes,” the beaver chief responded,
“When our lodge below you enter,
In our wigwam we will make you
Ten times larger than the others.”

Thus into the clear, brown water
Silently sank Pau-Puk-Keewis:
Found the bottom covered over
With the trunks of trees and branches,
Hoards of food against the winter,
Piles and heaps against the famine;
Found the lodge with arching doorway,
Leading into spacious chambers.
Here they made him large and larger,
Made him largest of the beavers,
Ten times larger than the others.
“You shall be our ruler,” said they;
“Chief and King of all the beavers.”

So I’m thinking that it might be a problem to become a beaver that is ten times larger than the other beavers INSIDE the lodge, since lodges are small spaces designed for normal-sized beavers but what do I know? It’s poetry. Poof, he gets changed into a monster beaver, and he thinks how lucky he is to have hidden from Hiawatha, who suddenly shows up on the scene, rips out the lodge the way we read about and comes to get him. All the other beavers scatter but he’s too big to fit through the plunge hole and he’s a sitting duck for the hunters.

With their clubs they beat and bruised him,
Beat to death poor Pau-Puk-Keewis,
Pounded him as maize is pounded,
Till his skull was crushed to pieces.
Artist FOC Darley – Engraver Russell and Richardson

I guess from the beavers point of view, this was a test that he failed. Think about it. They agreed to change him into a beaver without conditions or payment. But the role of the beaver is to be a member of the colony, to work for the greater good and value others as highly as you value yourself. Ahmeek even demonstrated this when he answered his inital request with “lemme go ask the other beavers what they think”. (Doesn’t sound much like a ‘king’ to me.) When Pau-puk-keewis asked to be ten times larger, he failed the test. When they hailed him as ‘king’ they were probably humoring his ego and writing him off. They stopped thinking of him as a beaver and a member of the colony, because even though he still had a flat tail, he wasn’t one of them any more. So in the end all the other beavers left him to his kingdom and swam to safety.

Hmm

Hiawatha: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

DONATE

BAY AREA PODCAST

Our story told around the county

Beaver Interactive: Click to view

LASSIE INVENTS BDA

URBAN BEAVERS

LASSIE AND BEAVERS

Ten Years

The Beaver Cheat Sheet

Restoration

RANGER RICK

Ranger rick

The meeting that started it all

Past Reports

October 2024
M T W T F S S
 123456
78910111213
14151617181920
21222324252627
28293031  

Story By Year

close

Share the beaver gospel!