Why I live in Marin

By Tamra Peters, Resilient Neighborhoods Founder

​On a chilly afternoon, my husband and I hiked along the Devil's Gulch trail, hoping to see salmon.  I recalled how lucky we had been several years earlier to catch a glimpse of salmon spawning from a crowded overlook. Today, we timed our hike when the rest of the country would be watching the Super Bowl.  It was still and quiet, except for the water rushing down to Lagunitas Creek.

​As we walked along searching each pool, we were excited to barely make out the shadows of some salmon in the water. Then we spotted a really large fish swimming fast upstream in the creek below us.  We gasped when, to our amazement, it climbed out of the water! 
​It was an otter! 

We stood very still for what seemed like a long time as we watched the otter scanning the water for salmon, just like us.  Suddenly, it jumped up and scrambled along rocks before disappearing behind a fallen log and some brush. We heard a big splash!  Then a three-foot salmon came barreling down the creek in front of us as fast as it could swim. It was so close we could see the red on its side. We felt so fortunate to encounter such wildness.  

---

Later, I learned that our experience could be attributed to two factors: the record storm flows from the early fall storms and Marin Water's successful Lagunitas Creek Watershed Enhancement Project. Marin Water has completed the second season of habitat restoration, which includes placing logs and gravel in the creek to recreate spawning beds. The project is currently halfway finished and will restore 4,550 linear feet of the channel, stretching from Peters Dam at Kent Lake to Samuel P. Taylor State Park.

​It's not just the wildness in our county that I love; it's how the people who live and work here care about the living world around us and are working to restore it.
​Driving home, I remembered that our dinner would be the fresh salmon we had bought that morning at the Farmers' Market. I considered how my perspective had changed since our walk.  I recognized myself as a predator of the salmon, just like the otter.

Before we started our dinner, we offered respect and gratitude to all salmon, especially the one that would be nourishing our bodies that night. The indigenous people whose land we live on understood the need for reciprocity and respect for our fellow creatures.  Likewise, Resilient Neighborhoods classes teach us how to change our behavior and decisions so we can live more lightly on the Earth and with greater regard and care.

​Here's a poem from Mary Oliver about her communication with an Otter:

---

ALMOST A CONVERSATION
​by Mary Oliver
I have not really, not yet, talked with otter
about his life.
He has so many teeth, he has trouble
with vowels.
Wherefore our understanding
is all body expression--
he swims like the sleekest fish,
he dives and exhales and lifts a trail of bubbles.
Little by little he trusts my eyes
and my curious body sitting on the shore.
Sometimes he comes close.
I admire his whiskers
and his dark fur which I would rather die than wear.
He has no words, still what he tells about his life is clear.
He does not own a computer.
He imagines the river will last forever.
He does not envy the dry house I live in.
He does not wonder who or what it is that I worship.
He wonders, morning after morning, that the river
is so cold and fresh and alive, and still
I don’t jump in.