There are toothy mourners all along the oregon coast tonight.
Category: Uncategorized
Before the beavers came to Martinez, in all the wide world we had only seen one. A single tail slap when we canoed up this river in Mendocino. (Mybluehouse is my non-beaver account). It was thrilling, and I wished we had seen more, but it had to suffice until beavers moved in downtown.
After our beavers moved in we felt like we were finally getting a glimpse of a treasure that always hid beneath the surface before. Given the distance between Martinez and Mendocino there must be thousands of beavers just waiting to be discovered by someone had the time and energy to locate them. As avid canoe-ers we are fairly familiar with the waterways between here and Big River. Surely we would come across more beavers now that we know what to look for?
Only yesterday I got an email from Brock Dolan talking about “reintroducing” beavers to Russian River. I wrote back with disbelief. What made him think beavers weren’t there already? In a large river beavers won’t build dams, and they would use bank lodges which are harder to spot. He very convincingly told me had explored every mile of the river and all of its forking tributaries, and knew people who lived on it, kayaked it, hiked it every day. He sent a round of emails to people who had done water studies for DFG, or for their own non profits. And everyone agreed. No beavers in Russian River. None at all.
Where are they beavers near the coast? Well we have the ones reported in Sonoma a while back. A colony in Big River in Mendocino. That’s it. That’s the known population density. Remember that Fort Ross, the Russian trading post, grew specifically out of the beaver trade.
However the founding of permanent British and American Settlements on the Pacific Coast , took place as part of the terrestial, rather than maritime, fur trade. The westward expansion of trading outposts took place with amazing rapidity as the commercial exploitation of beaver and other valued pelts devastated faunal populations from local rivers and creeks.
Historical Archeology: Back From the Edge Martin Hall & Stephan Silliman pg 275
So beavers in every “river, brook and rill” were trapped and skinned and the fur traders were so good at their job, the remaining beaver along the pacific are few and far between. To think that I personally have seen all the beavers from Martinez to Mendocino is a terrifying thought.
We know we have beavers in the delta. We heard from someone who had two in a creek in Danville. We know they’re in Los Gatos Creek. We know they’re in Sonoma and Sutter Creek. We know there’s a colony in Cordelia. Where are the beavers on Russian River? Willow Creek? Napa River? Gualala River? Where are the beavers in the Albion, the Noyo or Ten Mile River?
“Dead!” I answered, and amiably
“Murdered,” the Hangman corrected me.
California is “hollow” of beavers. Its center echoes with the ring of places they should be but aren’t. No wonder NOAA says that loss of beaver habitat has been the prime assault to Salmon. No wonder we complain of droughts and damage. No wonder people think beavers eat fish, or mistake them for Nutria or muskrats or otters. No wonder a city could go into two years of apoplexy by being forced to deal with this simple social mammal.
It’s a beaver wasteland out there.
I learned yesterday that long-time downtown fixture Ulla was found dead at the convenience store parking lot. There was no visible sign of trauma other than a cold night. Her thin jerky stride was recognizable to anyone who frequents down town. Sometimes she’d be in animated conversations with people who weren’t there, and sometimes she would stop by the beaver display and comment with startling toothless clarity on the kit that died “because of the coons”. There were always dramatic stories about her early life, that she had once been a dancer or a stripper. Clearly she had a colored past that brought her to an unsteady present. Many distant hearts will feel sorry at the news, and wish her peace.
anyone lived in a pretty how town
(with up so floating many bells down)
spring summer autumn winter
he sang his didn’t he danced his did
Women and men(both little and small)
cared for anyone not at all
they sowed their isn’t they reaped their same
sun moon stars rain
children guessed(but only a few
and down they forgot as up they grew
autumn winter spring summer)
that noone loved him more by more
when by now and tree by leaf
she laughed his joy she cried his grief
bird by snow and stir by still
anyone’s any was all to her
someones married their everyones
laughed their cryings and did their dance
(sleep wake hope and then)they
said their nevers they slept their dream
stars rain sun moon
(and only the snow can begin to explain
how children are apt to forget to remember
with up so floating many bells down)
one day anyone died i guess
(and noone stooped to kiss his face)
busy folk buried them side by side
little by little and was by was
all by all and deep by deep
and more by more they dream their sleep
noone and anyone earth by april
wish by spirit and if by yes.
Women and men(both dong and ding)
summer autumn winter spring
reaped their sowing and went their came
sun moon stars rain
ee cummings