Guide to Our Natural Environment
A Keystone Moment By Paul Berensmeier “Keystone” moments hold the fabric of our lives together and are largely why we are who we are today. These moments shape our lives, their unique message opening a new door, or revealing an exciting new trail to explore in the wilderness of life. My Grandpa—“Santa” to old timers in the Valley— set the stage for my “moment” in a Point Reyes book store in the ’70s. As an impressionable teenager eager to learn, I pulled a book from the shelf titled The Tracker by Tom Brown. “Grandpa, is this a good book?” Grandpa hefted it, getting the feel for it. He looked at the cover carefully. Then read the back. He opened the book in the middle and read. I stood watching every move. Grandpa would know. He looked into the distance, then back at me, and said, “Yes, Paul, that is an excellent selection.” Soon I began practicing the tracking techniques. Very exciting! There were different levels. First, follow- ing deer prints to the source—the source being the deer itself. What an experience to track a deer and then see it burst out of concealment! Second, make oneself “invis- ible” by conforming your body to the natural shape of the environment and mentally merge with the foliage. What a thrill when my dog, Skye, stopped 15 feet away, appeared to look right at me, but then, confused, passed by. Third, communicate your intention to a wild animal and be convinced that it understands you. But how? One day, as I drove up Alta Avenue in Lagunitas towards home, a tiny fawn ran across the road and stopped in the middle of it. I parked quickly and ran over. Suddenly I was standing face to face with a fawn. Big eyes . . . little body trembling. “Where’s your Mom?” I said. Then I remembered the tracking book. I relaxed and cleared my mind. Feeling the fawn’s fear, I looked into its eyes. I let the strong desire to help rise up and sent a nonverbal “thought-image” that I would help. Instantly, the fawn walked up to me, put its forelegs around my calf, hugged it tightly and wouldn’t let go. I gently picked him up and drove home. He was unsure of the bouncing car, but didn’t seem frightened. Grandpa was overjoyed at seeing us but quickly suggest- ed that I wipe my scent off the fawn with a wet rag and return him to a place in the nearby forest for his mother to come for him. I did so—carefully climbing a dirt hill into the forest canopy and placing him in a dense thick- et. I returned the next morning on my way to school and found two sets of deer prints on the nearby trail. A doe and fawn’s prints. The mother had come back for him!
My Fish Story Why “I Brake for Coho” Isn’t Such a Weird Bumper Sticker After All by Anne McClain After being up for a few hours already in the predawn of the December 31 st flood of 2005, I decided to take a break from pulling debris out of the culvert in front of our house halfway up Montezuma Avenue in Forest Knolls and walk farther down the street. I got as far as the park on Montezuma, behind the Little Store. Water covered the roadway and I could see that the creek was just skimming over the bridge. I watched as a car came slowly over the bridge, inching along, deciding if the water was shallow enough to continue. Meanwhile, I noticed some debris in the water at my feet. Then I realized that some of the “debris” was moving, and it was heading upstream not down with the current! There were two salmon right there at my feet trying to cross Montezuma Avenue! I watched as one of them slithered its way across the high spot in the road- way. The second one seemed to get stuck at that point. I watched it for a moment, wondering what the “Endan- gered Species Act” position on impromptu fish rescue is, and then reached down and grabbed the fish. I couldn’t hold on to it long, but managed to get it to water deep enough for it to continue on upstream. The fish really knew which way they wanted to go even though they and the creek were far out of their usual boundaries. I was glad that the car didn’t decide to venture up Monte- zuma—it might not have been able to “Brake for Coho!” Later in the day, when I related this story to a neighbor, he joked that the fish were probably trying to go visit Todd Steiner (of SPAWN who also lives on Montezuma.) It was an awe-inspiring and for many a heart-break- ing day. The big slide and the huge torrent of water roar- ing down Montezuma took with them giant trees, several bridges, a large shed and a pickup truck. Thankfully, no one was hurt. It is a cliché but a truth nonetheless that Nature is powerful. Not only for turning a trickle of a minor creek into a raging, destructive river, but also for the power that keeps the salmon on course, heading upstream to spawn, even when the “stream” is Guada- lupe, Montezuma, and Juarez Avenues. Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop off like falling leaves. John Muir
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50 th Anniversary
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