Out For A Swim

Laws of Nature

heidi08 Beaver News, Beavers or Social Ambasadors, Creative Solutions, Environmental, Friends of Martinez Beavers August 20, 2010

So last night the beavers got a pretty special visitor in the Who’s Who of environmental education. John Muir Laws (‘Jack’) drove out from San Francisco for a special beaver viewing and introduction. He brought his sketch pad and board and sat under the willow trees on the bank to draw the beavers as they swam about obligingly. Jack is a firm believer that seeing and drawing nature is the best way to truly understand it, and he dismisses the commonly held belief that artistic ability is a ‘gift’ rather than a pursuit.

He heard the ‘epic tail’ of the beavers salvation and the story of the exciting sheetpile vista that greeted him. Then he was treated to a tour and the remarkable sighting of GQ strolling over the beaver dam in all his attractive prowess. While he settled to watch the constantly unfolding story of three kits navigating the waters on their own, families with wide-eyed children poured down to watch Jack shared his excitement with them by passing along his expensive binoculars for a closer look. Jacks illustrations are the last word of Bay Nature Magazine and his drawings of our beavers will appear in the October issue.

Every now and then as he worked and watched he would pause and then exclaim “this is SO COOL!!!” a doxology with which certainly none there would object. Jack was invited to see the beavers by some friendly docents at the Audubon Canyon Ranch who had attended my talk at “Close to Home”. He asked my thoughts about what to emphasize and I stressed two things: the impact of the beavers on the habitat (green herons and pond turtles provided backup for that argument) and the impact of the beavers on the community (for which the hushed bright faces of appreciative children provided ample proof.)

All night he remarked on seeing beavers in Tahoe and Montana or Wisconsin but never seeing them like THIS. He enjoyed my observation that these were ADA accessible beavers, which of course they are, but I pointed out the flow device and stressed that any city who is willing to use creative tools could have local beavers of its very own. At the end of the evening he agreed that this was truly a special wildlife viewing opportunity saying that “Everyone in the Bay Area should come here, watch these amazing animals, buy a burrito and visit this town!” – which I’m sure the Chamber of Commerce would love. He also remarked that this was an essential opportunity for teaching stewardship, since people don’t learn to love nature because of what they saw on the discovery channel: they love first what is in their own backyard.

For their part the beavers were in top form and brimming with artistic merit. Just look at the photo Cheryl took last night.

Beaver Kit: Cheryl Reynolds

Before you go, your help is desprately needed by the poor city of Martinez which can’t possibly think what to name the park where 2000 people have attended the beaver festival over the last three years. Gosh, maybe you have a suggestion? Unless we’re calling it “Sheetpile Vista Plaza” or “Drinking-in-the-daytime Park” I can really only think of ONE name that makes sense, and it starts with a ‘B’. But why don’t you write and let them know yours?

Submarine Kits

heidi08 Beaver Behavior August 13, 2010

With all of three months under their beaver belts, our kit triumvirate have developed a new skill which they practice with great regularity. Lets call it the “sneaking up skill.” It used to be that our kits would swim into view like hollywood dancers in a chorus line, as flashy and look-at-me as you please. Now they emerge more quietly, eye the destination, and fill their little lungs with air to dive under and swim towards it. Sometimes only a line of bubbles marks their arrival. This breath holding and bubble blowing is a skill to develop along with diving and powering underwater. They blow far more bubbles than dad, for example. Adult beavers can slow their heart rates and take their body systems down to hold their breath for up to 15 minutes. Our three could never manage that, because by the time they “pop” out of the water, they are eager to breathe and eat.

Still, its a huge achievement, and its funny to see them use it, in every arrival without exception, for the last 10 days. For a reminder of how beavers propel themselves in water check out this video. The water has been weirdly clear and you have a great view of his working feed, paddling away.

Remember if you come to beaver watch that you might be sitting sadly thinking that there is no beaver activity when suddenly POP a beaver will emerge like an unexpected U-boat in a grainy WWII movie. It makes your watching job that much more challenging!

Come Join Us!!!

heidi08 Festival, Friends of Martinez Beavers August 7, 2010

Beaver Parenting

heidi08 City Reports July 31, 2010

{column1}So last night I was alone at the dam when several lovely families brought their children down to meet the beavers. They were respectful and hushed as their eyes sparkled with the wonder of seeing a beaver kit up close. Watchers from Bertolas on the opposite bank came as well, one a young father with a pouty 2 year old diner who was taking a break from the table to walk outside. The frustrated father picked the brightly frocked little girl and held her to see the beavers. She kept insisting ‘down down’ in the compelling way that two year-olds advocate their case. So he lifted her over the yellow wall and dropped her onto the concrete surface of the sheet pile. “Now you’re down”. He observed, “happy?”. Of course she wasn’t happy, she was scared, which was his point. She was TWO though so she wasn’t ready to give up her point. She started backing away towards the water, unsure whether she should come back or stay and defend her hard-won freedom.

{/column1}

{column2}

{/column2}

So I have a day job that’s focused on the complicated work of helping parents and children and mostly I make a conscious choice to stay out of things when I’m not in the office, but flashing in my minds’ eye was the possibility of the toddler falling into the creek, dad jumping in to rescue her, a kit swimming over to investigate and someone getting hurt. The city would go ballistic and the beavers would get blamed and I’ve have a zero sheet-pile tolerance policy. So I braced myself and said he needed to pick her up, and that she wasn’t allowed on the wall. He of course replied that he knew how to parent his kid, and I should mind my own beeswax but picked her begrudgingly up, which was my only goal. Tragedy averted. Beavers and toddlers safe. Stressful but safe.

As I was leaving that night I saw another rough-looking young man with a befrocked two year old daughter on the opposite bank. He had brought her down to see the beavers but it was so dark he thought it better wait until another night. I was still cautious from my last parenting interaction, so I was slinking towards the car but he asked brightly when was the best time to see them, and how mother had died. I answered some irresistable questions. He was happy to know that the three kits were safe and that he could see them if he came earlier while it was light. He also worried sweetly about the pipe, saying, “I heard they put that in to catch the beavers” which made me smile. “No, no. Its a good pipe. It helps the beavers stay here” and he was so pleased and said he’d come back another night.

(Someone tell Skip, if the pipe was put in to “catch” the beavers, it’s not working very well!)

So the night of risky parenting was rounded perfectly by a glimpse of delightful parenting, and the beavers continue to make more friends than even I can manage to make enemies. Three were seen last night, ooohs and ahhhs were spoken, and the tale of the “Good pipe” lives on to be told another day.

Winning

heidi08 City Reports, Festival July 29, 2010

From September to November in 2007 I was so alarmed that the beavers were going to be killed I don’t think I did anything but worry and canvas. I remember Jon and I would hang out by the dam on the weekend talking to media and anyone that seemed inclined to listen. When the dynamic unexpected council meeting happened my fears were paused, but not eliminated. I knew that meeting had slowed the tanker, (which was a HUGE achievement) but not yet turned it around. I very much hoped I would get to be on the subcommittee but I thought it was a long shot. I remember realizing that I should ASK to be appointed, which was not a thing I was used to doing. When my request was answered I launched into serious research mode and prepared a reader of articles addressing what I guessed would be the primary concerns for letting the beavers stay: Flooding, Burrowing, Water quality, Fish Passage, Reproduction and Mosquitoes. I made nine copies of the reader with tabs and photos and a spiral binding and distributed it to every subcommittee member that first tuesday night. I still have mine, and I’m very proud of it.

It’s safe to say that I hoped for success, but I always expected to fail.

Things didn’t look any more comforting from my view on the subcommittee. As I moved closer to the inner workings of the council and staff I never felt more reassured. Quite the opposite, I realized more keenly what we were up against. Prejudice and fear were deep, powerful, leviathan beings that lurked at the end of every sentence. The more I advocated the more dangerous I understood the beavers world had become. Those 90 days were as unreal as any I have known; I listened every tuesday to horrific lies and distortions, smiled politely and tried to speak up, doing my best to challenge them with a respectful, cheerful bunch of facts and running in a panic to my ‘beaver experts’ whenever I got in over my head.

During this grueling work, I was invited by Igor Skaredoff of Friends of Alhambra Creek to speak to their group. Mitch Avalon who was also on the subcommittee was running the meeting. Both of these men eventually became great beaver friends, but they didn’t start out that way, and I was anxious about presenting to them. They met in the public works office, which was a grisly omen as far as I was concerned. The room must have had thirty people arranged in a triangle. They were smart biologists and park rangers, some bemused at my beaver-hobby, some supportive and some openly hostile. In those early days I hadn’t yet understood that the very first place to look for beaver friends is the watershed council. (If they aren’t there naturally the smallest nudge of data will usually do the trick.).

The night was actually excellent, I had no slides or video or talk prepared back then. I just spoke about the role of beavers and my work to save them. I remember at the end a lovely woman said such a surprising thing – about my doing so much for them, giving so much time and energy, did I have a thought about why?

I was taken aback. I hadn’t realized I was giving alot, I had just been aware of not doing enough. It moved me greatly and I answered with a swell of feeling. “The beavers gave me a gift. They let me wake up early and find a wilderness 8 blocks from my house. They let me film them and watch their secrets. They gave me something wonderful. I can give them back a year.”

(Yes in those days, I thought I’d be done in a year. ha)

That night I got back into my car in the public works parking lot on Glacier drive and before I put my key in the ignition, paused to reflect on the night. It it hit me. For the first time. We were going to win. It had never really seemed possible before. But that February night I knew that the beavers were going to stay in Martinez and the council would have to accommodate them. I know that Igor and Mitch would eventually be on the side of beavers, and that there would be only one anti-beaver voice left on the subcommittee. The beavers would win. We would win. I would win. And he would lose.

That brief epiphany of success was shocking in a way that I hadn’t expected. I was used to anticipating things going wrong, and the knowledge that they were going to go right was startling but wholesome. It was less like “I always knew it would happen” and more like “Jesus Christ, we’re actually going to win this thing!” It was completely surprising, that little moment under the streetlight in the parking lot.

Not withstanding a council that wouldn’t vote in April, and the cardboard-carrying beaver “expert” invited to refute our findings, or the sheetpile wall or the massive lying that continued, I turned out to be right. We DID win. And to all extents and purposes, it was that night, the night that friends of alhambra creek became friends of beavers, that did it.

I mention this because yesterday I had a similar ‘success’ moment. This time about the festival. I’ve been worried with details and printers and schedules and rentals and contracts. The t-shirts came back from the with no letter and one of our bands looked like they might pull out and the boyscouts might not sell water. But suddenly yesterday, in a brief moment of clarity, I knew that this festival was going to be wonderful. Organized and delightful and bursting with educational fun that would change the way 1000 people saw beavers forever.

It was a nice feeling. You had better come for yourself to see if I was right.