
I live four miles
from Oakland Airport, built on wetlands where hunters used to
shoot canvasbacks and sprig. The larger populations of those
birds have since been diminished by agribusiness farms in the
Great Plains states and by things like jet runways here and elsewhere.
I also live half a mile from Oakland's Highland
General Hospital. Before the Iraq War, the Army sent its surgeons
to Highland for practical training, for there was a ready supply
of gunshot victims, young and old, some of them cut down with the
sort of semi-automatic weapons the NRA defends so fervently.
My two-year-old recognizes, and frequently goes
to sleep to, the distant sound of ambulances arriving at the hospital.
He will grow up in a household that keeps firearms and that maintains
a spirited dislike of the NRA, its cynical rhetoric, and much of
what it stands for. On the other hand, one day I will offer him
the chance, if he wishes, to join me at dawn in the marsh and await
the flight of mallards overhead. And though Black Point may be
gone, I believe there will be similar opportunities a bit more
distant. If the extra driving gets me down, I'll try to stay focused
on the extra ducks, geese, and countless other species benefiting
from substantially increased wetlands, and try to instill in my
son the notion that he deserves a world of improving, not declining,
natural resources--a goal that will require his full and unsentimental
attention.
This article is greatly abridged. For the full
text, see the print edition of Coast & Ocean.
Michael Bowen, project manager with the Coastal
Conservancy, has worked extensively to remove barriers to fish
passage in streams.
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