Former West Marin resident Dee Goodman now lives in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, which was founded by the Spanish in 1542.

This past week, an old friend, Mac Williams, and I traveled to San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, and ended up spending several days with a former West Marin resident now living there, Dolores (Dee) Goodman. Dee lives in one of the many colonias (small, semi-rural communities) that surround downtown and are part of the Allende municipality of 139,000 people.

For years, Dee lived in Nicasio and later operated Casa Mexicana bed-and-breakfast inn in Point Reyes Station. Her late husband John spent most of his career working for Marin County Mental Health but after his retirement was in continual demand as a stand-up bass player in San Francisco jazz bands. He was also one of the musicians to regularly play with guitarist Bart Hopkin at the Station House Café. If you ever saw him perform there, you’ll remember him even if you didn’t know his name; for when he was paired with Bart in the Station House, John, a tall black man, played the not-so-common pizzicato (plucked) cello, which was strung like a bass.

Dee, his widow, is now living with a working-class family in a colonia that at first glance might strike West Marin residents as a rural slum. The streets are unpaved and littered with trash. Despite high walls, which hide the residents, small homes and gardens, families keep dogs on the roof to ward off burglars.

But outward appearances can be deceiving, and Dee has managed to find a bit of paradise where I never would have expected it. Here is her story:

My husband John died of lung cancer in December 2000, and my loss was enormous. He was the love of my life. We had been together only 10 years, but those were worth a lifetime. He felt the same way about us.

I hadn’t readjusted well to the change and drifted emotionally, feeling lonely among my friends and family. After a year or so, I moved from Point Reyes Station to Petaluma to help my stepfather care for my mother during her terminal illness. My brother Dan lived with me in a manufactured home I had purchased in the same park as Mom and Bill.

With no children of my own, I had given some thought to long-term planning. Assisted-living residences were popping up all over, and they seemed a likely option for me. I calculated what assets I would have and what my fixed income would be and what type of place I would be able to afford so that I wouldn’t become a burden to my family. I was still relatively young, 60, so I wasn’t making any firm plans.

In December 2004, my friend Lana and I took what was supposed to be a two-week vacation to Puerto Vallarta; however, I had a feeling that I would not be returning to the US with Lana. I had, for some time, wanted to stay in Mexico for an extended time. (Two of my grandparents were born in Mexico but were forced to flee to Texas during the 1910 revolution, and I was brought up in Daly City.)

As it happened, I ended up in San Miguel de Allende, which is roughly in the geographical center of Mexico, about 200 miles northwest of Mexico City. San Miguel is a destination for many US and Canadian retirees; our dollars go twice as far here, and we can live more comfortably on our retirement income.

Imaginative, 60-year-old mural in one of San Miguel de Allende’s art schools.

Gringos have been coming to San Miguel for about 50 years. It started with a group who formed an art colony, and San Miguel now has numerous art schools, galleries etc. The gringo community does a lot for the locals: establishing libraries, scholarships and other helpful projects. And because they help with public matters, along with providing jobs and advancement opportunities, the expatriates are well received by the locals.

The Spanish-colonial downtown, with its park-like square, majestic cathedral, and narrow, cobbled streets, bustles with good restaurants, theatre, music festivals, and barely marked hotel entrances that open into courtyard gardens.

At an elevation of 6,000 feet, San Miguel de Allende has a desert landscape. During winter, middays are warm, and nights are cold. I like the climate.

When I first moved to San Miguel de Allende, I rented in the Los Frailes community at the edge of town. A woman in her 30s named Alicia Gonzalez was the housekeeper at the apartment, and a couple of times I drove her to her home in the Colonia Palmita de Landeta.

The first few times, I met her children in front of their house where they huddled shyly, laughing. They were very curious about me, this Señora Dolores from California. Around the third time I took Alicia to her house, her husband Antonio had just arrived home from work and told Alicia to invite me in. I was led to a front bedroom of their very modest house and was invited to sit on one of the beds.

The visit is still clear in my memory. I remember thinking, “What a beautiful family!” At the time, all five of the family’s children were living at home. (The oldest, Valentina, now 19, has since gone to live nearby with her husband Manuel and his family.)

Dining outdoors under a tarpaulin (from left): Ernesto, Claudia, Marco, Manuel, and Valentina. She and Manuel, who assembles furniture for a living, are expecting their first child in June.

I subsequently moved from Los Frailes to Calle Recreo in the central part of the San Miguel near Parque Juarez. Alicia and Valentina helped me pack and move. Valentina would spend some nights with me at Recreo, especially when I was sick with a cold or something. And they would all worry about my wellbeing, comfort, and safety.

Unfortunately, the Recreo apartment was intolerably hot, so I moved to a two-bedroom apartment on Calle Agua in the Colonia Atascadero closer to their house. The whole family helped me pack, move, and unpack, the five kids and Mom trekking up and down the path to move my stuff.

If they had their way, I would have just sat back and watched the move go on. After all, I am grande now. That’s when you’re older, like into your sixties (I’m now 66).

I did a bit of packing but not much moving. Picture the little one, Rosario, five years old, (seen here a year later with her mother Alicia) insisting she be allowed to help carry stuff to the car. Ernesto was eight; Marco, 10; Claudia, 12; and Valentina, 18.

Even before that move, Valentina began to tell her mother and me that I should move in with them, that they could make me a room. The seed was planted, and I didn’t even consider saying no when the Gonzalezes in 2005 invited me to live with them.

In October 2005, I bought a terreno (lot) next to the family for $10,000. In February 2006, I moved into my almost-completed casita, which was built by Antonio, an accomplished maestro albanil (construction worker), and a crew of four. Antonio is incredibly creative and meticulous, and I enjoyed seeing the building materials used here: basically brick, stone, rebar, and concrete. I was able to suggest what I would like to have done and then see it accomplished.

I had initially planned to have a large living area, one bedroom, and bathroom in my casita, but I convinced Alicia and Antonio to accept half the living-room space to make a bedroom for themselves. They had always had their bed in a common part of their house, in the kitchen or living area. We put up a wall to split my living room into their bedroom and a sitting room for me.

Surrounded by building materials for the completion of their dwellings, Dee dines on the Gonzalezes’ patio with Rosario, Antonio, and Alicia.

Antonio opened up a door in the wall of their house to my casita at their kitchen. I don’t have a kitchen; it’s our kitchen. Alicia is a marvelous cook and for me, eating with the family is better than going to my favorite Mexican restaurant every day.

I participate in the preparation of meals as much as I can and as much as they’ll let me. I’m learning more as time goes by. I also help with the marketing. We go to the plazita market every Saturday, and while Alicia shops for veggies, I shop for fruit: mangos, guayavas, dried Jamaica blossoms etc. I love it! It’s our tradition on shopping days to buy fresh carnitas, bolillos, tortillas, and salsa to eat when we get home.

The daily giving is as important as the receiving. I think the key is being able to share and actually being a member of the family unit, watching the kids get off to school and waiting for them to come home. It’s something I missed out on, not having had children, and it’s a blessing to have been given the opportunity now that I’m grande.

I’m referred to by the family as Tia (Aunt) Lolita and am usually addressed as Tia. The parents have given me a grandmother’s authority over the children and have instilled in them a kind respect for me. I love feeling a grandmotherly cariño (affection) for the kids.

Rosario and Ernesto, the youngest two, and I are particularly attached. Mi sombra (shadow), Ernesto, doesn’t let me leave the house alone. When I leave the house to walk Omar, my dog, Ernesto always accompanies me.

I think the kids were initially told by Mom and Dad to accompany me whenever I went out, and Ernesto (at right with his brother Marco) has taken charge. He says he’ll protect me from aggressive dogs and picks up rocks to throw in the event we run into any, which does happen. He’s my little angel.

I’m glad I said “yes” when the Gonzalez family invited me to live them. We’re a great match. All of us can’t believe our good fortune. I was able to make the move and provide my own space, but had I not been able to do that, had I been totally without financial means, they would have gladly made room for me in their home, and we would all be just as happy, I’m sure.

That’s the way it’s done in the Mexican culture and many other cultures of the world. Older folks don’t have to move someplace with strangers their own age and be cared for by other strangers. There is always room for them in a family member’s home and daily life, until their dying day. I’m still young enough to foresee more changes in my life, and this may not be my “journey’s end.” But it just may be, and that’s great.

Exotic rat at Point Reyes

This week I shot a rat. With my camera, that is. To be precise, I photographed a roof rat foraging under a flowerpot for stray birdseed. It was a lucky shot, for an instant after I snapped the picture, the rat was gone.

For 30 years, I have been aware of roof rats on this hill, for they have sometimes made themselves known in a particularly disruptive fashion.

It typically happens this way; every few years, a resident of Campolindo Drive turns on the dishwasher only to have soapy water spread across the kitchen floor. (If memory serves, it happened to my late neighbors Ben and Charlotte Glading twice, to my neighbors Dan and Mary Huntsman once, and to me twice.)

Inverness applicance repairman Dave Brast this week explained what’s been going on: “There’s one hose that drains a dishwasher, and usually it goes through a hole in the cabinet wall that separates the dishwasher nook from the space under the kitchen sink. If the sink drain goes through the wall under and behind the sink and if that hole is overly large for the drainpipe (thereby leaving a gap), a rodent can crawl from inside the wall through the gap into the under-sink space and then through the hole in the cabinet wall over to the dishwasher nook…”

(For roof rats to “enter homes and buildings,” The New York Times-owned website About.com notes, “they only need a hole the size of a quarter.”)

Brast further explained, “To do damage by gnawing through the dishwasher drain hose, the rodent can gnaw the portion of the hose under the sink or under or behind the dishwasher.

“I think the hose in the nook is the favorite target because there the rodent is completely protected from being disturbed by cats, dogs and humans….

“In the last few weeks I’ve had to repair two rat-gnawed dishwasher-drain hoses in Bolinas, one at the home of Aggie Murch and the other at the home of Charles and Veronique Fox. The two houses are on opposite sides of the road just a few hundred yards apart. The first gnawing was in the Murch house and days later in the Fox house.

“This made us wonder if it wasn’t the same rat doing the gnawing. After it gnawed through the first hose, it thought, “Well, no more to gnaw here at Murch’s. Guess I’ll mosey on over to Fox’s and see what there is to gnaw there…. Another dishwasher-hose gnawing I remember happened to Herb and Gina Kutchins’ [Inverness Park] dishwasher.”

Why do roof rats do this? “My understanding is that rodents gnaw because they have to,” Brast told me. “If they didn’t, the front teeth, which never stop growing, would get so long the animal wouldn’t be able to open its mouth wide enough to eat.” In short, it’s a dental procedure.

And there are more serious reasons for not wanting roof rats in our kitchens than periodically sudsy floors.

As reflected in their grating scientific name Rattus rattus, roof rats are notorious creatures. I’m reminded of Nabokov naming Lolita’s stepfather Humbert Humbert emphasize that rat’s ugly nature.

“The roof rat is an introduced species of rat [that is] native to southern Asia,” the University of Florida Institute of Food and Agricultural Science notes. (Florida has a particular problem with roof rats in citrus groves.) “It was brought to America on the first ships to reach the New World.”

“The rat is the same species that carried the bubonic plague around the world [killing half the people in Europe during the late 1340s] and is also the host for murine typhus” in the South.

Cats kill roof rat “pups” but seldom the adults. Charlie cat seen here fence sitting belongs to neighbors Jay Haas and Didi Thompson, whose dishwasher has thus far escaped rat damage. Whether Charlie should get the credit, however, is unclear.

Because roof rats (which like to gnaw their way into attics) are arboreal, traveling along branches, utility lines, and fence tops, they seldom fall prey to cats except when the pups are young and still dispersing, the University of Florida notes.

Traps are more effective in controlling roof rats.

Hawks, such as this redtail on my hill, and owls (especially barn owls) are even better, the University of Florida reports.

A female roof rat can have as many as five litters a year of up to eight pups each. And each generation is ready to begin reproducing in three to four months.

For the past two centuries, rats have been a fact of life on every continent but Antarctica.

The so-called Norway rats or “sewer rats” (Rattus norvegicus) are actually native to northern China. They reached Europe and the Americas from Asia much later than roof rats. The University of Michigan Museum of Zoology reports they were inadvertently carried on ships to Europe in the early 1700s and the New World in the 1770s.

In Asia, Rattus norvegicus was native to forests and brushy areas, the museum notes. Today, however, Norway rats find preferred habitat to be alongside the rapid expansion of the human population. Nearly every port city in the world has a substantial population of these rodents.

I happened to have been reporting for the old San Francisco Examiner back in 1982-83 when the City of San Francisco reconditioned its cable car tracks and, while it was at it, replaced antiquated sewer lines underneath.

A supervising engineer on the sewer project told me at the time that he and another employee had recently gone into a sewer tunnel under Market Street at the edge of the Financial District. The tunnel opened into a large chamber, he said, and as the two of them shone their flashlights around the tiered vault, they saw reflections from eyes of hundreds of rats. The two men beat a hasty retreat. A typical city, the engineer noted, has one rat for every human.

In case you have your own encounter with a representative of the genus rattus and wonder just what species you’re dealing with, the easiest way to distinguish between Norway rats and roof rats is by the length of their tails.

Norway rat tails are shorter than their bodies while the tail of a roof rat is noticeably longer than its body. Norway rats have bald ears. The ears of roof rats are furry. Norway rats are only slightly longer than roof rats; in fact the rattus rattus above would probably measure more than a foot from the tip of its nose to the tip of its tail. In general, however, Norway rats are far heftier.

Flashing wildlife makes some nature photography possible that would otherwise be difficult at best. *

The results of flashing, however, can be gratifying or frustrating, depending on how one sees things. Flashes often give humans red eye, and I don’ t mean conjunctivitis (AKA pink eye). In fact, possums are the species that end up with pink eye in flash photography. Blacktail deer come out with blue eye while raccoon eyes can end up white or green or both.

A blacktail fawn gets “blue eye,” not “red eye,” from being flashed.

(For the edification of readers in other parts of the country, I should note that flash photography can make prairie dog eyes look orange and alligator eyes look red.)

However, the reason flashes, which are often vital for photographing nocturnal wildlife, give these animals’ eyes their various colors is not the same reason flashes can make human eyes look red.

The eyeshine of possums is pink.

Among mammals, the iris of the eye expands and contracts to let in the optimum amount of light as conditions become darker or brighter. When a camera flashes, the human iris cannot contract fast enough to keep bright light from reaching the back of the eye; as a result, red blood vessels of the retina reflect light and show up in photos as red eye.

Unlike humans, many other mammals, especially nocturnal creatures, have a mirror-like surface, the tapetum lucidum, behind their retinas. The eyeshine of a deer caught in the headlights is a reflection off the tapetum lucidum.

The tapetum lucidum helps nocturnal animals hunt and forage in low light. Here’s how. Light from outside the eye passes through the iris and the retina and then bounces off the tapetum lucidum back through the retina. This magnifies the intensity of the light reaching the rods and cones of the retina, which are what sense light.

However, the color of the tapetum lucidum differs from species to species, which is why rabbits have orange or red eyeshine while dogs are often green or blue.

Showing both green and white eyeshine, a raccoon looks through my kitchen door at Nina Howard of Point Reyes Station.

Nor is having a tapetum lucidum an unmixed blessing. As Wikipedia notes, the tapetum lucidum improves vision in low light conditions but can cause the perceived image to be blurry from the interference of the reflected light.

And then there are other curiosities. The Minnesota Department of Natural Resources reports, “Animals in which the views of the two eyes overlap a lot, such as people and owls have good stereoscopic vision [which helps them gauge distances]. Animals whose vision overlaps less, such as deer and rabbits, have less stereoscopic vision, but they can see more around them.”

Not all animals have round pupils like those of human eyes. In the same way we squint to see more clearly, some animals’ pupils are naturally narrow to sharpen their vision, perhaps somewhat offsetting any blurring their tapetum lucidum might cause.

The pupils of foxes and small cats, for example, are vertical slits, which help these predators notice when any prey is scurrying around off to their sides. The pupils of goats, sheep, and deer are horizontal slits, as can be seen in bright light; this gives them better vertical vision on steep terrain.

When I spotted a blacktail doe grazing in the shade of a pine tree outside my bedroom, I opened a window to take a picture. The doe looked up and saw me, but she appeared oblivious to being flashed and went back to grazing. Notice her horizontal pupils.

Surprisingly, wildlife including birds do not usually show any reaction to sporadic flashes — even those directly in their faces— but a quick succession of flashes gets their attention.

“By means of water, We [God] gave life to everything.”  The Qur’an

My two acres adjoin the land of Point Reyes Station’s venerable Toby Giacomini, and one of the stockponds on his property is only 10 yards from our common fence. Living next to that pond for the last 30 years has been an education. Livestock such as cows and horses have long watered there, of course, but the stockpond also provides habitat for an amazing array of wildlife.

Red-winged blackbirds from a colony that nests at Toby’s Giacomini’s stockpond near my cabin flock in whenever I put out birdseed.

Threatened Western pond turtles have found refuge in Toby’s stockpond. The pond provides a home for newts, frogs, snakes, various fish, and a colorful colony of Red-winged blackbirds.

Deer, foxes, and raccoons frequently drop by for a drink. Badgers, and an occasional coyote, can be found around it.

Here a Great Blue Heron picks its way through the reeds along the edge of the stockpond.

Among the birds that can be frequently seen hunting for dinner at Toby’s pond are several varieties of duck.

In addition, an occasional goose or two shows up although I’m more likely to spot them overhead.

However, as far as I’m concerned, the true celebrity hunters are the Great Blue Herons.

Having these long-legged stalkers around the cabin is exciting.

I’ve lived in small, rural towns for 35 years, but I still get a thrill when a heron lands next to my parked car and then goes hunting in the field just below my deck.

Great Blue Heron on the prowl in my pasture.

For the sake of birds that don’t hang out around the pond, I provide a birdbath on my deck where these living dinosaurs* can drink as well as bathe.

A mourning dove in my birdbath takes a drink while a brown towhee eats seed and waits its turn.

“Well, I’ll be a dirty bird,” George Gobel (1919-91). Splashing wildly, a brown towhee becomes practically submerged in my birdbath while cleaning up.

Although not the only species to bathe on my deck, none do it with more enthusiasm than brown towhees. It so happens that I too like a good soaking now and then, and more than once while half-dozing in the hot tub on my lower deck I’ve been abruptly awakened by a shower of cold water from a towhee splashing in the birdbath a deck above me.

As I was driving through San Geronimo Friday, I was reminded of the days when I covered Sheriff’s Calls for The Point Reyes Light. Every couple of years, some motorist would notify sheriff’s deputies he had been driving past the San Geronimo Valley Golf Course when his car was hit by a golf ball. Last week, it finally happened to me.

The ball came off a fairway south of Sir Francis Drake Boulevard, bounced on the shoulder, and then off the hood of my car. It didn’t do any damage; however, it felt like a rite of passage: somewhat akin to Bolinas and Stinson Beach motorists being inducted into the Lagoon Club but without all the mess.

Immediately I knew how I would begin this week’s blog entry, but what I didn’t figure on is what would happen next.

Surprisingly big pot busted by hurricane-force gusts

Helping keep this blog online is computer technician Keith Matthews of Point Reyes Station, and for Christmas he gave me his copy of the Morris Dictionary of Word and Phrase Origins. Matthews said he’d spent the last year working his way through the dictionary and thought I too might find it interesting. I already have.

As it happened, when I opened the dictionary, the first word my eye fell upon was “halcyon.” Although I seldom use the word, I have occasionally quipped about “the halcyon days of yore” in referring to mellower times, but I knew nothing about the word’s origin. It turns out, “halcyon” has had particularly ironic meaning for West Marin these the past few weeks.

Here’s the Morris Dictionary’s explanation of the word: “Halcyon (pronounced HAL-see-un) is an adjective meaning ‘calm and peaceful.’ It comes from the Greek word for kingfisher. Legend was that the kingfisher’s brooding period was the seven days before and the seven days after the shortest day of the year. Since the kingfisher’s nest was believed to be borne on the waves of the ocean, it followed that during this period the weather would surely be calm and peaceful, or “halcyon.”

Tuesday evening after this week’s storm had caused a several-hour blackout, I mentioned to Nina Howard of Point Reyes Station that the foul weather ran afoul of the original meaning of halcyon. I explained about the Greeks believing the kingfisher’s nest floated on the ocean and, therefore, needed calm weather to get through the brooding that supposedly occurred at this time of year.

“Did the Greeks ever see any kingfishers nesting on the ocean?” Nina asked. “Not that I know of,” I told her, but scholars in ancient Greece, even Aristotle, weren’t into empiricism.

“Well, so much for that theory,” remarked Nina.

Waking Wednesday from the night’s heavy rains, high winds, and several-hour-long blackouts, I looked out on my deck Wednesday morning to see if the storm had caused any damage. What I saw was a big pot bust.

Indeed, lying busted up on my deck was a heavy, terra cotta flowerpot that had blown off my picnic table. A root ball from the chrysanthemums and ice plant growing in it was still intact, and later in the day I was able to find another large pot at Toby’s Feed Barn and replant the flowers.

Predictably, the most noticeable damage I spotted around my property was not to my flowerpot. On the way into town, I discovered a massive limb had broken off one of the pines of my neighbors, and part of the tree was sticking into Campolindo Drive.

Someone had stuck orange traffic cones around it, giving maintenance of our private road a sort of Public Works Department ambiance.

What got me out of my cabin before showering and shaving Wednesday morning, however, was not finding a replacement for my broken flowerpot. Two friends called to say that Manka’s had caught fire during the night and was still burning. Owner Margaret Grade is a long-time friend, so I immediately headed for Inverness to see what was happening to her restaurant. That story follows.

A blacktail buck in the glow of late afternoon sun as the days grow short.

It was one of those moments when reality becomes surreal, as if the natural world suddenly went running off in all directions. Which is sort of what happened.

As I was about to leave my cabin to get my mail at the post office, something told me this would be a good day to carry my camera in my pocket. So I did. Nothing happened downtown worth photographing, but when I was driving back up my long, curved driveway, I was suddenly glad to have my camera with me.

Near the top of my driveway, I startled a herd of blacktail deer grazing just downhill from my cabin, and they did what deer typically do in these circumstances. The herd ran in front of my car. I was proceeding slowly, however, so they safely made it into a field on the other side of the driveway where they stopped.

Wild turkeys hunt and peck their way across my field.

As it happened, a flock of 12 wild turkeys were already in that field, and when they saw my car approaching, the turkeys just as perversely scurried across my driveway in the opposite direction.

Both were so intent on where they were heading that the flock and herd dashed past each other without seeming to notice there was a discrepancy as to where safety could be found.

A dozen wild turkeys forage downhill from my cabin.

Once they’d passed each other on the driveway, bird and deer both slowed to a walk, and I was able to photograph the turkeys as they marched across the field below my cabin.

Wild turkeys are not native to California. In 1988, California’s Department of Fish and Game planted three toms and 11 hens for hunting at Loma Alta Ranch (on the ridge between Woodacre and Lucas Valley Road).

From there the turkeys spread to nearby Flanders Ranch and the Spirit Rock property, and eventually to Nicasio, Olema, and even as far north as Tomales, where they have been known to intimidate small children and scratch the paint of cars on which they perch.

In February 2005, a low-flying turkey gliding across Highway 1 in downtown Tomales hit a power line, causing three lines to slap together and fall to the ground. The town was blacked out for four hours, but the turkey, albeit initially stunned and walking around in circles, suffered only a few singed feathers and eventually wandered off.

After the commotion has died down, a fawn peers
around her mother’s neck at the departing turkeys.

I found this garter snake one morning warming itself in the sun on my driveway. Common garter snakes come in innumerable variations and are found in fields, forests and wetlands nationwide. Like this snake, adults average about four feet long. In West Marin, their diet typically consists of tadpoles, slugs, and earthworms. But unlike other snakes, they don’t eat insects. When first born, the snakes are prey for bullfrogs. Hawks and foxes eat adults.

Pacific tree frog hiding out in leaves from my persimmon tree.

Pacific tree frogs’ chirping is so dependable that Hollywood typically uses it whenever the sound of frogs is needed in a movie, even if it’s set in Africa.

The website NaturePark.com reports that the tree frog’s “color varies from almost a bronze brown to a light lime green. Individuals can change color in green and brown tones in a few minutes. This color change is related to the temperature and amount of moisture in the air, not the background color as in most other amphibians and reptiles. This color change gives it the protection of camouflage as it hops and crawls about on low leaves, branches and on the ground in open forests and forest edges looking for flying and crawling insects to eat.”

I photographed three lizards on the wall of my cabin and then was unable to find any naturalist either in town or at the Point Reyes National Seashore who could identify the green lizard at lower left.

I also checked the website wildherps.com operated by herpetologist John Sullivan of Pacific Grove. When I didn’t see the green lizard on his site, I emailed Sullivan photos of the three and asked for help. His answer: “I believe all three of your lizards are actually Western Fence Lizards (Sceloporus occidentalis). They have a fair amount of color variation, and the green one is within the range of colors I’ve seen.”

Charlotte’s Web (below). Every fall I can count on some garden orb weaver each evening stretching a web from my eaves to the railing of my deck near the front-door light.

“The building of a web is an engineering feat,” as Wikipedia aptly notes. The orb weaver “floats a line on the wind to another surface. The spider secures the line and then drops another line from the center, making a Y.

“The rest of the scaffolding follows with many radii of non-sticky silk being constructed before a final spiral of sticky capture silk.

“Orb weavers are three-clawed spiders, and the third claw is used to walk on the non-sticky part of the web.

“Characteristically, the prey insect that blunders into the sticky lines is stunned by a quick bite and then wrapped in silk. If the prey is a venomous insect, such as a wasp, wrapping may precede biting.”

Possums are found throughout West Marin wherever ponds, creeks, marshes, and even drainage ditches provide riparian habitat.

I photographed this possum when it stopped on my deck to wash its paws.

West Marin’s possums originated in the Deep South where “common opossums” are commonly called possums, thanks to a linguistic phenomenon known as aphesis.

“The common opossum,” writes Point Reyes Station biologist Jules Evens in The Natural History of the Point Reyes Peninsula, is “the only marsupial native to North America [but] is not native to Point Reyes or the Pacific Coast. After the first known introduction into California at San Jose about 1900 (for meat, delicious with sweet potatoes), opossums spread rapidly southward: by 1931 they were common on the coastal slope from San Francisco Bay south to the Mexican border. Point Reyes avoided the onslaught until about 1968.” They are nocturnal omnivores, eating plants, earthworms, slugs, insects, and roadkill.

“A perfectly preserved fossil of a feathered creature that lived 150 million years ago has provided further evidence to show that modern birds are living dinosaurs. The fossil is a complete skeleton of an Archaeopteryx and shows it had features common to birds and a group of meat-eating dinosaurs called therapods.” The Independent (London)

There are dinosaurs living on the two acres around my cabin. This is not metaphor but fact, as scientists from around the world have confirmed. Naturally, I hate to see any prehistoric reptile going hungry, so I buy dinosaur food at Toby’s Feed Barn in 50-pound sacks. The dinosaurs at my cabin get fed twice daily, thus requiring a new sack every fortnight.

Putting out seeds for the dinosaurs and then watching them show up, chow down, and start fighting provide me with a prehistoric world of entertainment. I’d much rather watch this twice-a-day drama than anything on television.

Canada geese fly over my cabin each evening en route from Tomales Bay to the larger of two ponds at the Cheese Factory in Hicks Valley, where many of West Marin’s Canada geese spend nights. Hundreds of Canada geese winter annually on the bay, on Nicasio Reservoir, and at Bolinas Lagoon. Along with these snowbirders, a year-round population of Canada geese is developing in West Marin. The fulltimers are descendants of geese that people over the years have dropped off at the Cheese Factory’s smaller pond, which is beside the picnic area. This began with an unidentified Johnny Apple-Goose releasing (with permission) four geese with clipped wings at the pond in the 1970s. Seeing those four, other people were then inspired to start dropping off their own surplus Canada geese (not always with the Cheese Factory’s permission).

The dinosaurs around my two acres are mostly songbirds, jays, blackbirds, herons, crows, vultures, and hawks while Canada geese honk overhead. This may sound odd, but as the website of New York City’s American Museum of Natural History explains: “In the view of most paleontologists today, birds are living dinosaurs. In other words, the traits that we accept as defining birds, key skeletal features as well as behaviors including nesting and brooding,  actually first arose in some dinosaurs.”

Professor Mike Archer, director of the Australian Museum in Sydney, told ABC in 2002, “Fossils uncovered in the Liaoning Province of China have provided a whole sequence of missing links in the dinosaur-to-bird story. The birds we see flying around our backyards are actually living dinosaurs, descendants of prehistoric beasts we all once presumed became extinct 65 million years ago.” In fact, not every scientist had shared that presumption. The

With its bird brain, a red-winged blackbird has the mind of a dinosaur. Ninety percent of red-winged blackbird males have more than one mate, the Cornell Lab of Ornithology reports, “with one male having up to 15 different females making nests in his territory. [He] fiercely defends his territory during the breeding season [and] may spend more than a quarter of all the daylight hours in territory defense.” He doesn’t get much cooperation, however, from his female consorts. The ornithologists at Cornell report, “From one quarter to up to half of the young in his nests do not belong to the territorial male. Instead they have been sired by neighboring males.”

Chinese fossils of nesting dinosaurs with rudimentary feathers have made many laymen finally realize birds are indeed dinosaurs, not creatures that evolved from dinosaurs but true dinosaurs. However, for more than a century there were always some scientists convinced of this.

Responding to renewed interest in the concept following the Chinese discoveries, Yale University two years ago proudly pointed out that “in 1880, Charles Darwin credited O.C. Marsh, Yale’s first professor of Paleontology, with further research on ‘toothed birds’ (dinosaurs) that provided the best support for his theory of evolution.”

And while it’s amusing to talk in terms of dinosaurs eating birdseed on my deck, realizing that that they are, in fact, reptilian is illuminating. When a crow lands on a railing, it might as well be a Tyrannosaurus Rex as far as the other dinosaurs are concerned; they scatter in panic.

A scrub jay swooping onto my deck strikes the same fear among smaller dinosaurs that the arrival of a malevolent Monolophosaurus (1,500 pounds and carnivorous) would have struck among their prehistoric predecessors. Among like-sized dinosaurs, only the doves, those feisty birds of peace, can hold their own against common jays.

Mealtime generally is fight time for the dinosaurs at my cabin. Fifty or more birds of several species get their beaks in each other’s face as they jostle for position along the 2-by-4 railings where I leave seeds. This reptilian territoriality is especially noticeable among blackbirds, as well as scrub jays (below). Their constant sparring to determine survival of the fittest can, however, work to their disadvantage, for it often causes them to overlook untouched piles of seed nearby.

On the other hand, the sparring of the bigger birds suits the towhees and Oregon juncos just fine. These mellower dinosaurs take their place at the feast as soon as the blackbirds and then the jays drive each other away.

Several dinosaurs are almost as fond of my birdbath as my birdseed, for they drink from the basin as well as bathe in it. Unfortunately, while dinosaurs instinctively avoid dirtying their own nests, they have no similar aversion to fouling their own drinking water. Birdbaths can transmit disease from one dinosaur to another, so I refill mine daily, pouring the old water into flowerpots on my deck. Unlike dinosaurs, flowers benefit from poop in their diet.

The fact that my feathered friends are prehistoric reptiles doesn’t, of course, make them all savage beasts. For example, I call this photo taken on my deck:

Golden-Crowned Sparrow Disguised as a Stained Glass Window

Walt Disney’s 1951 documentary Nature’s Half Acre was unusually successful for having such a simple premise: that there is an amazing spectrum of nature to be found on even a relatively small piece of open property. In fact, the movie’s cast was both huge and small: hundreds of little insects, various birds, spiders and lizards, flowers and other plants galore.

Likewise, the theme of this exhibit is the abundance of plants and animals I’ve managed to photograph from the two acres around my cabin overlooking Point Reyes Station.

Fortunately, the small town (population 820) remains a bit of the Old West despite being only 40 miles north of San Francisco. How much longer the town’s historic charm will last has, however, been uncertain ever since the opening of the Point Reyes National Seashore in 1965. Often now on weekends, the town is overrun with tourists (almost two million per year) en route to the nearby park. The tread of that many visitors on the flora and fauna of this area is crushing in more ways than can be easily imagined. Here, therefore, are some glimpses at what still survives.

A photography collection in progress:

1. Male Western fence lizards do pushups to intimidate rivals, exposing their blue bellies in the process. When under attack, the tip of their tail twitches to draw the predator’s attention away from the body of the lizard. While the lizard can survive the loss of the tip, the loss takes a toll on the lizard which stores food there. The Western fence lizard is pestered by ticks, but when ticks that carry the Lyme Disease spirochete bite a “blue belly,” the spirochete dies.

Photos by Dave Mitchell

2. A raccoon showed up at my kitchen door at Halloween and stood up with a paw on the glass to catch my attention. The young raccoon was obviously used to begging from humans, and given the occasion, I rewarded it with a Halloween cracker.

3. Sunset looking southwest from the deck of my cabin. In the middleground, the setting sun casts a glint off a shiny leaf. In the background is Inverness Ridge, much of which is in the Point Reyes National Seashore.

4. I have blacktail deer on my property throughout the year. I photographed this doe through my dining room window. At some times of the year, as many as 14 blacktails can be found around my cabin at one time.

5. Red foxes are far less common than gray foxes in West Marin; however, they are common in the Sierra, Cascade Mountains, and Central Valley, and there have been red foxes on Point Reyes for many decades. Some may be the descendants of foxes that escaped fox hunts in Nicasio during the 1970s.

6. I found this Pacific Ring-necked snake in a rotten log while splitting firewood. The snake eats very small critters: tadpoles, insects, and especially salamanders, and it has just enough venom to immobilize them. However, the snake is not dangerous to humans.

The new owner of The Point Reyes Light has fabricated so much in court papers and public statements that I feel compelled to respond. Related topics included here: Robert Israel Plotkin found to be frequently filing lawsuits. Robert Plotkin and mother defendants in US bankruptcy court in connection with a $77 million Ponzi scheme. Plotkin’s attorney Robert H. Powsner, 77, blames his own “forgetfulness” as he attempts to explain away a web of lies in his court filings.

Here are the facts regarding the litigation filed by The Point Reyes Light’s new owner Robert Israel Plotkin against me, the former owner, against Joel Hack, owner of The Bodega Bay Navigator website, and against other people. Some of what is here was discovered by people not connected to the case.

1. The most-significant misconception about problems at The Point Reyes Light is that they center on disputes between new publisher Robert Plotkin and me. They don’t. In the first 12 months after he became publisher, 13 staff and contributors were fired, quit, or in various ways shown the door.

Some staff such as Gayanne Enquist of Inverness, Sandy Duveen of Woodacre, Jim Kravets of Fairfax, and Peter Jamison, formerly of Woodacre, did not have jobs lined up when they left. I, at least, am retired.

2. Prior to Robert Plotkin’s and my falling out last February, I had been working diligently to help the paper during its transition to new ownership as a consultant to the newsroom, a columnist, and a photographer. I have a five-year employment contact with The Light, which cannot be unilaterally terminated, but it pays only $175 per week to be available as a consultant. Nonetheless, I volunteered additional help as needed. Following the New Year’s Eve storm, I spent three days slogging through mud and wading through water to photograph the damage. However, as numerous people who have dealt with the new owner have discovered, he is frequently insulting and abrasive, and when he insulted me, we got into a shouting match in front of The Light.

Plotkin initially told bystanders and a sheriff’s deputy he was a victim of attempted murder, that I had tried to strangle him. However, hairdresser Barbara Keady, a witness who spoke with Plotkin immediately afterward, and sheriff’s deputy Ted Keehn both noted there were no marks on him. Plotkin had no visible injuries, deputy Keehn wrote in his incident report. Plotkin then added to his story that I had tried to run him down with my car after he and I started yelling at each other.

But when deputy Keehn interviewed witnesses, that story didn’t hold up either. Realtor Robert Cardwell told the sheriff’s deputy that he saw Plotkin and me arguing in front of Greenbridge Gas & Auto. When Plotkin got out of my car, I made an abrupt U-turn on Mesa Road and stopped in front of The Light with a wheel on the sidewalk, which is flush with the pavement (i.e. there is no curb). Mitchell got out of the red Acura and ran toward Plotkin, Deputy Keehn quotes the Realtor as saying. The deputy quoted hairdresser Barbara Keady as saying she saw Mitchell park his vehicle in front of The Point Reyes Light on the sidewalk. Mitchell got out of his vehicle and had a heated verbal argument with Plotkin. Sandy Duveen, who then sold advertising for The Light, told the deputy that after the Acura stopped abruptly in front of The Light, she saw Mitchell walk towards Plotkin, the officer reported.

So there was no attempt to strangle Plotkin or hit him with my car. As for my parking with one wheel on the sidewalk, anyone familiar Point Reyes Station’s old Creamery Building, where The Light is located, has often seen cars with at least one wheel on the sidewalk. Here, for example, is Plotkin’s own car parked mostly on the sidewalk.

3. Represented by Point Reyes Station attorney Robert Powsner, Plotkin then asked for a restraining order and later an injunction that prohibits me from being around him, his family, and his newspaper. Like other staff and contributors who have left, I had by then concluded Plotkin was immature and abrasive, as well as sometimes dishonest, so I had no problem agreeing to stay away from him.

When asking Marin Superior Court to issue a retraining order against me (because we had shouted at each other), Plotkin claimed he needed special protection because of my supposedly immense size. With his irrepressible flair for the dramatic, Plotkin told the court I am 6-foot, 6-inches tall and weigh 225 pounds. Now Plotkin, of course, was writing from the perspective of a short and pudgy (The Marin Independent Journal called him ‘pear-shaped’) 36 year old. Nonetheless, this 63-year-old retired editor is definitely not larger than pro football’s Terrell Owens, the big wide receiver. In reality, I am 45 pounds lighter and three inches shorter than what Plotlin cavalierly wrote in his sworn statement.

In the last five years, the former lawyer has filed lawsuits against six tenants, one against The Bodega Bay Navigator website and its owner Joel Hack, and two against me. He is also a defendant in US bankruptcy court. Although for a while he was a deputy district attorney in Monterey County, Plotkin is no longer licensed to practice law in California.

4. Long before Plotkin and I had our squabble, he had a falling out with The Light’s long-time cartoonist, Kathryn LeMieux of Tomales, who quit contributing. The Bodega Bay Navigator in Sonoma County had just converted from a weekly newspaper to a website, and owner Joel Hack invited LeMieux to post her cartoons on The Navigator site. After I agreed to Plotkin’s injunction, which forbids my even sending him email, Hack invited me to also start posting on his website, which I did. In an Aug. 14 lawsuit filed by Plotkin against Hack and me, he claims I induced LeMieux to become the cartoonist for The Navigator. (My supposedly recruiting LeMieux, Plotkin suggested, amounted to my unfairly helping a competitor.) But like other things Plotkin has said in his lawsuits, in The Light and to other reporters, this was a total fabrication. LeMieux had agreed to draw for the website before I was involved with it.

5. Attorney Robert Powsner on Plotkin’s behalf then got Judge Jack Sutro to issue a bizarre injunction against my posting on the Bodega Bay website. Plotkin and Powsner had told Judge Sutro that by letting me post writing and photos on The Navigator’s site, Hack was damaging or destroying The Light. The judge agreed, and in chambers he told lawyers for both sides that protecting Plotkin’s $500,000 investment in The Light outweighed constitutional prohibitions against censoring free expression.

In making his ruling, Judge Sutro came up with a seemingly illogical interpretation of the sales agreement signed by Plotkin and me when he bought The Light’s stock in November 2005. When I sold the stock to Plotkin, I agreed not to write for another Marin County newspaper. In deciding I was violating that agreement by posting on The Navigator website, Judge Sutro failed to acknowledge there is a difference between a website and a newspaper. Ironically, a Sixth Appellate District court ruling as recently as May in a case involving Apple Computers noted, “The term ‘newspaper’ presents little difficulty; it has always meant, and continues to mean, a regularly appearing publication printed on large format, inexpensive paper.

In addition to making no distinction between a website and a newspaper, Judge Sutro even more bizarrely failed to distinguish between a business being based in Marin County and a business being based in Sonoma County, where The Bodega Bay Navigator has always been located. The judge apparently accepted Plotkin’s boggling claim that the place of publication depends on what is written about in newspapers and websites, as well as in which communities they can be read.

Perhaps contributing to Judge Sutro’s confusion, Powsner and Plotkin untruthfully told Judge Sutro last August that The Navigator website “has no publishing or production facilities or premises in Sonoma County other than defendant Hack’s computer.” Exposing this fabrication, The Marin Independent Journal subsequently published a photograph of Hack working in The Navigator’s cluttered “shack,” a building located behind Hack’s Bodega Bay home.

Because Plotkin — in securing an injunction against The Bodega Bay Navigator and me — claimed that competition from The Navigator’s site is damaging or destroying The Light, Navigator owner Joel Hack and I as co-defendants are now assembling evidence such as this to demonstrate it is Plotkin himself who is “damaging or destroying” The Light. The injunction is now being appealed, and more litigation is expected. Under Plotkin’s ownership, many readers have complained about Light reporting that is inaccurate, sensationalistic, or inappropriate for a community newspaper. Subscriptions have been dropping, as Plotkin admitted in his Nov. 9 issue. This sign was spotted on the Stinson Beach Village Association bulletin board opposite the front door to the town post office. As co-defendants having to ward off Plotkin, Hack and I would welcome submissions of any legally significant evidence showing that whatever wounds The Light has suffered have been self-inflicted rather than caused by competition from The Navigator website: http://www.bodegabaynavigator.info/interiorpages/WMarinNews/WMarinNews.htm.

6. I am getting excellent legal representation from attorney Ladd Bedford and Arman Javid of the San Francisco law firm McQuaid, Bedford, and VanZandt, and we will appeal Judge Sutro’s injunction, now that he has finally signed it. In addition, retired attorney Judy Teichman of Inverness Park is working as a volunteer on my behalf.

7. In the meantime, some fascinating West Marin stories are being left uncovered. How in the world, for example, did “co-defendant Robert Israel Plotkin end up in federal bankruptcy court this fall in connection with a $77 million Ponzi scheme? The case was investigated by the FBI and prosecuted by the US Attorney’s Office.

The ringleaders, Moshe Leichner and Zvi Leichner, are now serving time in prison, a US bankruptcy trustee is trying, so far without success, to get at money the Leichners squirreled away in one Swiss and two Israeli bank accounts, and the Justice Department has warned the ringleaders they may be deported.

A US bankruptcy trustee has reported that last year he filed over 150 adversary proceedings. These proceedings seek recovery of funds in excess of $20 million in pre-petition transfers made by [Moshe and Zvi Leichner] to insiders and other parties.

A federal hearing was held in October, with attorney Powsner representing codefendant Robert Israel Plotkin, according to court papers. Plotkin’s mother Zaporah Bank of Los Angeles, another defendant, is representing herself.

As explained by CPA Grant Newton, an expert witness hired by the bankruptcy court, the Leichners from 1998 to 2003 operated a Ponzi scheme: namely, a phony investment arrangement whereby earlier investors are paid fictitious profits from the funds of later investors.

The Leichners’ Ponzi scheme operated under the name Midland Euro, and the US Justice Department notes, “The Leichners told their investors that Midland Euro would invest their funds in foreign currencies which Midland Euro would then trade on the international currency market for profit. Although the terms of the investments tended to vary slightly among victims, generally, the Leichners claimed Midland Euro would generate guaranteed monthly profits of between 2% and 4%.”

So the question we are left with is: how much did Robert Plotkin know and when did he know it? It may merely be that in contriving to make an unbelievably high guaranteed profit in the high-risk, foreign-currency-exchange market, Plotkin got involved with shady characters. However, he can hardly claim to be financially since he is enough of an investor to own or have recently owned, besides The Light, an $840,000 seaside home in Bolinas, another house in Taos, New Mexico, real estate in New York City, and rental homes in San Diego County. I have no idea how much of this he presently owns or whether he will even stick around West Marin too much longer. Although he has by now owned a home in Bolinas for two years, the BMW he drives to work still carries New Mexico license plates.

As for the real estate in San Diego, Robert Plotkin went into that county’s superior court six times in five years, seeking to have tenants evicted. If you add to those six lawsuits the two Plotkin filed against me this year and the one he filed against Joel Hack, owner of The Bodega Bay Navigator website, you get a sense of just how litigious this former lawyer is.

8. Another curious story not receiving coverage is the role of Point Reyes Station lawyer Robert H. Powsner, who is representing Plotkin against Bodega Bay Navigator owner Joel Hack, the federal bankruptcy trustee, and me.

As it happens, Powsner’s law firm is one of three I had been using, depending on the nature of the issues. My current attorney, Ladd Bedford, who has been a friend since our days together at Stanford, gave my former wife Cathy and me free day-to-day advice during The Light’s Synanon investigation. The Heller Ehrman White & McAuliffe law firm, likewise at no charge, successfully fought off six lawsuits totaling $1.032 billion, which lawyers for the Synanon cult filed against the two of us. One case went all the way to the California Supreme Court, where Heller Ehrman won a major legal precedent that greatly increased California reporters’ right to keep confidential sources confidential in civil cases.

In addition, I had hired attorney Powsner to represent me in a variety of matters, including one out-of-court dispute involving my firing of an intern when he failed to cover a major storm, as assigned. After firing him, I had to stop the intern from running off with the office keys. What I didn’t know until a witness’ sworn statement this year was that the intern had been ripped on cocaine at the time.

Attorney Powsner’s photo
and his description
of his practice can be found at:
lawyers.nolo.com/attorney.cfm?attorneyID=422&LocationID=19&specialtyID

When I hired Bedford and not Powsner to draft the sales agreement for The Light, Powsner went ballistic – perhaps because he owed The Light about $4,000 at the time and would have liked to work off the debt. In any case, when I approached him for help in dealing with Plotkin, Pownser announced he was switching clients and intended to represent Plotkin against me.

Under the California State Bar’s Code of Ethics, Powsner should have refused to fight a former client in court since he has confidential information about that client. The reason for the rule became immediately obvious; Powsner (before finding out that cocaine was the likely cause of the intern’s behavior) repeatedly tried to dig up more information about that dispute to use against me on Plotkin’s behalf.

My attorneys have asked a court commissioner to disqualify attorney Powsner because he had previously represented me. In particular, he had attempted to use information from the intern dispute, against me on behalf of a new client. Powsner, who is 77, responded with a surprising rationalization for his investigating on behalf of Plotkin an out-of-court dispute that he negotiated as my lawyer: it was simply a matter of his “forgetfulness.” That would be an amazing admission for any lawyer to make – and especially one who is still practicing in his seventy-eighth year and would like to continue.

Powsner told the court commissioner that until he read my present lawyers’  motion to disqualify him, he “hadn’t remembered anything about the [intern] matter (which was in 1998) nor that it existed nor any information about it.”

Powsner apparently also forgot that in the months before the motion to disqualify him was filed, he had talked over the matter with my lawyer and one of my lawyer’s partners, Arman Javid, as well as The Light’s former business manager Don Schinske, The Light’s former typesetter Cat Cowles, The Light’s present front-office manager Missy Patterson, and (as he himself would later acknowledge) his own secretary Susan Cofano and his new client Robert Plotkin.

As my attorneys then pointed out to court commissioner Roy Chernus, “Robert Powsner is caught in a web of lies. Mr. Powsner’s new declaration not only contradicts his own assertions and the declarations of three witnesses, but it contradicts his own assertions several times within the same document. All the previous untruths prevent Mr. Powsner from keeping his story straight.”

Attorney Powsner now has his own attorney, Peter Flaxman of Mill Valley, to help untangle him from his  web of lies. In the meantime, a complaint has been sent to the State Bar regarding forgetful Bob’s unethical conduct.

Update: Ultimately, I countersued Plotkin, and in January 2008, he and I announced we had settled the litigation between us. I was pleased with the financial and non-financial aspects of the settlement, but we agreed to keep the details confidential.