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

Category: History


Our Wikipedia beaver friend has been doing an amazing job researching beaver in the Sierras. Check out his recent updates. The photo is from moonshine Ink, where I first learned about the Kings Beach Beavers being killed because they “weren’t native”.

Historical range and distribution

In 1916, Harold Bryant wrote in California Fish and Game, “The beaver of our mountain districts has been entirely exterminated and there are but a few hundred survivors to be found along the Sacramento, Colorado and San Joaquin Rivers.”[2]. Later twentieth century naturalists (Grinnell, Tappe, etc.) questioned whether the California Golden beaver dwelt above 1,000 feet (300 m) of elevation in the Sierra[3][4], but evidence that they lived throughout the Sierras, including the high country, is mounting.

California Golden beaver taken from Snelling, California (elevation 256 ft/78 m and Waterford, California (elevation 51 ft/16 m) were stocked in 1940 at Mather Station (elevation 4,522 ft/1,378 m) west of Yosemite National Park and in 1944 at Fish Camp (elevation 5,062 ft/1,543 m) by the California Department of Fish and Game (CDFG). These native “Central Valley” beaver have been building dams and rearing young successfully for 70 years at elevations in and near Yosemite at elevations higher than 5,000 feet (1,500 m).[5]

A 500-1,000 year old Yokut Indian pictograph of a beaver at Painted Rock is located above 1,600 feet (500 m) of elevation in the southern Sierra Nevada on the Tule Indian Reservation.[6][7]

There are two Beaver Creeks in California, one in Amador County that begins at 6,000 feet (1,800 m) and descends to 3,300 feet (1,000 m) where it joins the Bear River (a tributary of the Mokelumne River) and one that begins at 7,400 feet (2,300 m) and descends to 2,500 feet (800 m) where it joins the North Fork of the Stanislaus River. The second Beaver Creek in Tuolumne County has a Little Beaver Creek tributary that joins it 8 miles southwest of Liberty Hill, California and is now known as Crane Creek.[8][9] There is also a Beaver Canyon in the southern Sierra at elevations above 2,000 feet at the confluence of Delonegha Creek with the Kern River.[10] Because the Hudson’s Bay Company intentionally trapped the beaver in California to near extinction to prevent American settlement, there is a paucity of place names with the word “beaver” in the State.[11] However, the Beaver place names in the Sierra could be named for the unrelated Mountain Beaver (Aplodontia rufa).

Why did Grinnell and Tappe write that there were no California Golden beaver over 1,000 feet in the Sierras? McIntyre hypothesized that beaver were trapped out of the Sierras early in the nineteenth century by trappers before records could be kept.[5] Fur brigades employed by large commercial enterprises such as the Rocky Mountain Fur Company, the American Fur Company, and the Hudson’s Bay Company drew American exploration west to the Pacific. The Hudson’s Bay Company purposefully tried to extirpate beaver in California and Oregon to stifle American intrusion into these states and create a “fur desert”. Early records show that by the 1830’s, American fur brigades were in the Sierras. Fur trapper Stephen Hall Meek, wrote in his brief autobiography, “We got too far West, and finally started down the Mary’s, or Humboldt river for California, over a country entirely unknown to trappers. We discovered Truckee, Carson and Walker rivers, Donner lake and Walker’s pass, through which we went and pitched our camp for the winter on the shore of Tulare Lake, in December, 1833.”[12] With few exceptions, these mountain men left few detailed records.

It may have been easier to trap out beaver in the Sierra Nevada than the beaver of the Delta. The beaver in the rivers of the Central Valley did not have to build dams since there was plenty of deep water to provide food and shelter, whereas mountain beaver have to impound streams to create deep water. The easiest way to trap beaver is to remove a few sticks from their dam, and set a trap to catch them when they come to make repairs.[13] Thus, it may have been much easier to trap out dam-building beavers in the foothills and mountains than the non-dam building beavers near sea level in the California Delta. Grinnell states, “Beavers living in banks frequently leave little sign, and it is sometimes difficult to find places to set traps for them.”[14] Grinnell also pointed out (after lamenting the lifting of the 1911-1925 moratorium on beaver trapping) that many parts of the Delta were inaccessible to trappers, “A few are left in sloughs with the “islands”, where trappers do not go.”[15] Well before the end of the nineteenth century these factors could have left the mountains bereft of beaver and concentrated the surviving, albeit decimated Golden beaver populations in the Delta.


Beaver friend GTK wrote recently that the entire popular science archives are now available online. Surprisingly, there are several entries about beaver on Mars. Here’s a 1930’s favorite by Thomas Elway:

Check out the illustration in the center of the beaver-mouse-pig at the helm of some kind of fiendish beaver spacecraft. I haven’t yet stopped laughing at that. Thank you so much GTK for the best beaver image ever. The article is a little more thoughtful.

Read that last line again please. ‘evidence not accompanied by signs of intelligence’, ergo, it must be a beaver. Because certainly beaver don’t leave signs of intelligence like dams or lodges or canals that might be visible. They are too busy flying their spacecraft and plotting world domination.

Ahh given the myriad of misunderstandings beavers have been subject to, this seems like par for the course. Beavers eat fish? Okay. Beavers cause Giardia? Okay. Beavers flood cities? Okay. Beavers live on Mars? Why the hell not?

 


Approaching Carson Pass from the Nevada side there is a breath-taking shudder of daunting mountains decorated by a clear meandering stream, a few behemoth gnarled sierra juniper point the way as you climb and several snaking lines of aspens demand your attention. On your left, just before you reach the pass, is Red Lake, an Alpine fishing treasure at 8200 feet. Highway 88 is the secret way to Tahoe and the last feed-line to close at the peak of ski season. It follows a path originally carved by  John Charles Fremont in 1844. He was a topographical engineer and a lieutenant in the Army Corp of Engineers. He hired Kit Carson as a guide to find a way through the impassable mountains to meet up with the Buena Ventura River (the old name for the Sacramento) that supposedly flowed to the sea. He is considered the first white man to cross Alpine county.

Sometimes it is the familiar that reveals the unknown. This weekend I was bumming around the Sierras, looking for (among other things) rumors of beaver above 1000 feet prior to 1940. I picked up a lovely book by June Wood Somerville about the history of the road that became 88, including carson pass, kirkwood, silver lake and beyond. June had clearly immersed himself in every possible history of the area, and gathered them together in a friendly unique  book telling stories from the perspective of the road. Here’s what got my attention:

“It was winter and the Washo were hunting golden beaver, martin and snowshoe rabbits…One of their destinations was a frozen stream at the south shore of Red lake. there was always a beaver dam. It was a maze of cut aspen sticks and brush packed tightly with mud. It rose a foot above the icy water. Stumps stood nearby almost covered in snow. In the late summer and fall, the animals chewed at the trees until they fell, pushed them into the lake and floated them towards their dam sites. Beavers were only hunted in winter when their pelts were in-the-prime.”

June Wood Somerville: Legend of a Road

Beavers at 8200 feet in the 1800’s!!!!!!!!!!!! Of course prior to Fremont, the Washo Indians roamed the area, and made use of the land. Washo trapping beaver is a game over for beaver being native to Tahoe and the sierras. (Hear that Kings Beach?) I spent some time with the Amador County library and found an account of a father who trapped beaver as a boy in 1905 sutter creek. Also that the currency of the mountains were beaver pelts. A fellow beaver-storian is contacting the author today to pinpoint original sources. These photos were taken a few years back on one of my many October explorations of the area. Now it is almost a custom to drive through and wish we could bring some aspen back for our beavers. Enjoy the fall colors and marvel with me that the place I canoed and cross country skied a hundred times may turn out to hold the answers to our beaver historic prevalence dilemmas.

Update:

Conversation with June reveals the author “imagined” Washo trapping beaver there, no references for their historic presence. Sigh. The search continues….


How’s that for a dramatic name? The beaverkill is the most famous flyfishing river in the United States, located in the Catskills in New York. It is to flyfishing what woodstock is to music festivals (famous and over). I was thinking grim thoughts about its name the other day, searching for the massive slaughter that lead to its appellation. Beaver friend Bob Arnebeck was the one who told me that “kill” is Dutch for “creek”,  so beaverkill just means beaver creek.

Which makes sense, because if it was named after a whoppingly successful slaughter every single river in America could have been named “Beaverkill” at one time.  The name is still pretty unusual, even though the experience was ubiquitous. This particular river was once full to bursting with trout, which does imply lots of successful breeding pools for juvenile salmonids, thanks to some happy beavers long ago. It is now mostly underground, pent up in concrete like most of our rivers. It was overfished even before the 1900’s, and there are now hatcheries along it to keep the anglers happy.

I was reading about the beaverkill because a reporter that I had recently made contact with let me know that she was going to be the editor of the Watershed Post, which covers New York’s watershed, spanning five counties in the Catskill mountains. I had written this reporter when she initially covered a presentation given by Beaver Solutions to the Massachusetts state house in not very beaver-generous terms. She took a little hunting to find, and in the course of doing so I learned that she was an interesting writer and worth attempting to convert. Turns out she was intrigued by my email, loved the name “worth a dam” and wants to set an interview when she transitions to WP. She thought writing about beavers in Albany watersheds might be a good idea.

Given the hatchet job performed by the NY Times earlier this year, I couldn’t agree more. We’ll see what happens.


This weekend I embarked on some historic sniffing to help our wikipedia friend in his effort to document the presence of beavers in the South Bay. Knowing the history is an important defense for the argument that “beavers don’t belong here so kill them”. Most have heard of the reference for Captain Sutter bringing 1500 pelts to the San Jose mission, but the question remains whether they were taken from local beavers or are “imports”.

So it’s a matter of following up with who trapped where and what they found, and its a lot more exciting than you might think, although sometimes I am pushed into reading something I really should leave to others with harder hearts. This is what I found this weekend, trailing facts about the Fur desert, the Hudson Bay Company and the use of native peoples as trappers.

Ice chisels on long poles. Shades of Basic Instinct come to mind. Except times a billion. First drain their pond, then lock them in their homes. Can you imagine someone nailing poles to trap our beavers in their lodge and hacking them to death with an ice chisel? I’m still shuddering. Hmm well I’m sure some would have imagined it if they had known that was how its done.

Build a better mousetrap, the saying goes. The article goes on to describe the slow progress of beaver genocide even after the arrival of the steel trap in the 1750’s. Apparently no one could figure out what to bait them with. A tasty willow leaf just wasn’t cutting it, and they didn’t seem interested in fish. (No kidding!)  By accident it was discovered that they went crazy for the smell of castoreum, (oil from their scent glands) which was easy enough to get from the beaver you caught yesterday. By 1818 most natives were trapping beaver with steel traps they bought from trappers and baited with Castoreum.

Game. Set. Match.

Gosh. It really IS like basic instinct. Using your own sexuality against you. Luring you in with the promise of a good time and then hacking you to pieces. So when beavers tried to procreate and identify their family members they were killed. Although the slaughter taught them to adapt to a nocturnal life and start building sneaky bank lodges instead of obvious island lodges, evolution couldn’t possibly eliminate THAT instinct. Charming.

And this is why I should dedicate my spare time to connecting with supporters and potential supporters, and stop reading historical snuff films. Note to self.

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