The Bureaucracy Of Beaver Dams

A lthough the recent article appearing in the Times, "Eager Beavers Worry Hofers," was written with obvious journalistic skill, I take exception to the headline and leading sentence: "Although Cindy Hofer loves the beavers who visit the family farm on the banks of Coppei Creek, she gets nervous when they settle in."

It would be more accurate to say that the beavers cause little or no uneasiness. In fact I enjoy their antics and feel honored to live so close to their chosen habitat. My actual frustration and 'nervousness' rest with the bureaucracies charged with the protection of this beautiful creek and its critter population.

The following chronology will, I hope, explain.

I recently awoke early in the morning, pulled the curtains aside and watched as a young beaver padded the bank where an impressive dam had industriously been erected. The structure was fortified by an expansive sheet of ice.

Keenly aware of a predicted warming trend and minor flood warnings, I decided to contact a local agency in Dayton to describe the problem.

"We have a large beaver dam that has frozen over. My concern is the predicted warming trend and flood warnings, which suggest it might be safer if the dam was somehow dismantled. In the past, (as in the flood of '96) ice barriers and zero clearance under the nearby Coppei bridge created a river in our (and some neighbors') yard, flooding the basement of our summer house and bunk house. Water also seeped into the basement of our home. I'm afraid that when the dam breaks we could see similar damages. To be on the safe side, we need to dismantle the dam."

I was redirected to a different agency located in Walla Walla.

The official was polite and to the point, "Oh, you need beaver repellant, ma'am."

In frustration I explained, "No, you don't get it. It's too late for repellant. We have a large ice dam that surely will break in the next day or two causing possible flooding."

" Well, in that case, ma'am, you need to call Olympia for a hydraulic project removal permit."

I called Olympia and spoke with a young woman, once again explaining in detail our situation.

"Uh huh," she commented. "I will send you the form to fill out for the necessary hydraulic removal permit. It will take a few weeks."

I took a deep breath and protested.

"Two Weeks? You don't understand. We don't have two weeks. We flooded in '96. When the weather warms (as is predicted), the ice dam will break and could cause some flooding. This is beginning to feel somewhat like déjà vu."

Acknowledging my urgency she instructed, " Sounds like you need an emergency hydraulic removal permit. It should only take a few days or so. You will need to call the area habitat biologist for the Washington State Fish and Wildlife. His name is Tom Schirm."

I followed the lead.

"Hello Mr. Schirmhellip;" I explained the problem, (for the fourth time) and the biologist agreed to drive out and 'check things out.'

My husband, Gary, and our expert advisor, Mr. Schirm, brainstormed that we (Gary and I)could wade into the icy, churning water, wrap a chain around the largest log and, using our faithful farm truck, "Old Blue," pull the jam aparthellip; upstream, against tons of accumulated ice. Hmm. Of course we "will need to fill out the paperwork and wait for the emergency permit." (Mr. Schirm was most kind, and he did offer to expedite the matter).

There is a caution, however. If the debris breaks apart and clogs the creek downstream, jeopardizing any neighbors' property, we are liable, NOT the agency who issued the emergency permit.

Gary, peering at the cold, deep, cold, dark, swift, cold water, decided that we would, "Wait and see what the creek does when the ice begins to melt."

The following day, I noted that the horses had taken refuge in the back pasture.

Like the deck of the sunken Titanic, a glaciersized sheet of ice was lying atop the soaking, wood debris along the front pasture.

I have not ventured to descend the cellar steps to the little summer house or check out the old bunkhouse. If any repairs are necessary, we'll probably need a permit.

There is a moral here: "Whether dealing with beavers or bureaucracies, you are damned if you do and dammed if you don't."

By the way: The beaver dam abides.