Gridlock doesn't care about class

There's an advertisement lurking as an op-ed in Friday's Amador Ledger Dispatch. A local person employed by New Faze Development to promote its environmentally destructive Jackson Hills subdivision argues for the project because it's "classy."

And she says that if Jackson Hills isn't built, some other development -- something far worse, in her opinion -- could be built on the site.

That's interesting logic: If the city doesn't approve this bad project, a worse one might come along? Wow.

Of course, the land could also stay a cattle pasture. Maybe even an irrigated one.

One of the biggest problems with Jackson Hills is that it will create gridlock in south Jackson (the word traffic doesn't appear in the "advertorial"). I don't know about you, but the last time I was stuck in traffic, it really made no difference to me whether the cars were shiny, late-model Beemers or beat-up older cars and trucks. And if ambulances can't get through a traffic jam on their way to the Sutter Amador ER, is that OK provided the cars in the way are nice and expensive?

Gridlock is an equal-opportunity impact that pays no attention to so-called class.

Who says traffic will be a problem? None other than Charles Field, Executive Director of the Amador County Transportation Commission, the county's resident traffic experts. As reported earlier this week in the Ledger article about Monday's council meeting, "Field repeated concerns that if Jackson Hills is built as planned, serious traffic congestion may aggravate already overburdened streets and roads."

The New Faze author also argues that Jackson Hills will "pay millions in developer fees that will benefit Jackson, Amador County, the school district and the Amador Water Agency."

What she fails to note is that under state law, developer fees can only cover the cost of a development's impacts on local government. They don't "benefit" government or taxpayers, they just cover the cost of providing capital improvements to the project. And often they don't even do that. Impact fees definitely don't cover school construction costs.

In closing, the author calls Jackson Hills "innovative." If Jackson Hills is innovative, I'm a right-wing Republican. Jackson Hills is a formulaic, suburban golf-course subdivision designed to attract affluent people in a certain demographic who are fleeing urban areas with equity from their homes for the comfort of gates and golf.

The odds of it becoming the social, economic and fiscal salvation of Jackson are slim to none.

Shame on the Ledger for allowing a developer to run an ad like this for free.

McCutcheon tix available in advance

While tickets for the McCutcheon concert/Wilensky fundraiser were originally announced as being available only at the door, you can buy them in advance online or at

Aeolian Harp, Angels Camp
Jackson Family Sports, Jackson
Sam Snead Real Estate, West Point

Don't miss the show!

Don't miss John McCutcheon in Mokelumne Hill

Storytelling musician-activist John McCutcheon will perform in the wonderful little town of Mokelumne Hill on Saturday, July 21.

The show, a benefit for Citizens for (Steve) Wilensky, will be at the Mokelumne Hill Community Hall at 7:30. Tickets are $25 at the door.

John's an amazing musician, and Steve -- the Calaveras County District 2 Supervisor -- is a remarkable politician. They're two of the finest people I know: smart, caring, compassionate, talented, and hard-working.

This promises to be an incredibly special evening. Be there!

Sitting at home is not a good option

For years, some of us tried to explain what is patently obvious in Amador County now: left to its own devices, growth can destroy the things we love most about this special place.

Without good planning, we said, our home county could turn into all of those places we point to for their terrible traffic, bad air quality, ugly strip development, and land-consuming rural sprawl -- places where scenic vistas, working ranches, farms, and historic sites are written about in past tense.

We were often written off as alarmist socialist tree-huggers.

But with the "anywhere USA," traffic-jamming, suck-the sales-tax-from-the-cities commercial development of Martell and same-old, same-old sprawling, water-wasting golf course subdivisions proposed around our historic towns, most people "get it" now. As a result, more people than ever are getting involved in local planning issues and promoting smart growth.

At the same time, a certain amount of fatalism remains. Some believe that nothing can be done. It's a self-fulfilling prophecy: If you think nothing can be done and don't act, guess what? The powers of growth and development will prevail, just as they have in all of those other places where money talks and people are "too busy" to get involved.

But if we join together and claim this county as our own -- not the province of developers -- we can shape its future. Right now, residents of Jackson who want to avoid sprawl and would like to see ranching continue around the town would do well to contact their city council members about the Jackson Hills golf course subdivision and show up when the council discusses the proposal on Monday, July 9.

Jackson Hills is the wrong project, in the wrong place, at the wrong time. The EIR details more significant environmental impacts than any project I've ever seen proposed in Amador.

Jackson Hills will threaten the operation of the Plasse and Busi ranches, destroy oak woodlands, waste an incredible amount of water, and create gridlock in south Jackson. It will provide homes for affluent equity-amenity refugees, not people who live and work in Jackson.

The Jackson Planning Commission did the right thing when it voted against Jackson Hills.

Those who will profit from this development -- realtors, business owners, golfers, builders -- have joined together to support it. They are letting Jackson officials know what they think.

Those of us who will suffer, not profit from the project need to do the same. If you care about Jackson, traffic, ranching, oaks, smart use of water, and housing working people can afford, be sure to let Jackson officials know.

It's your town and your county. So take it back -- before we lose it for good.

River people

Last weekend I went to the National River Rally east of Portland in the Columbia River Gorge. It was an incredible place and an amazing event.

Hundreds of river people were gathered in one place. Others might use the label "river people" disparagingly, but those of us attending wore it with pride.



There were scientists. Watershed coordinators. Academics. Bureaucrats. Activists. Tribal representatives. Fish people. Pollution fighters. Bug lovers. Kayakers. Anglers. Water recyclers. Water planners. Business owners. Nonprofit managers. Young. Old. Boomers. Millenials. People from Alaska. People from the North, East, Midwest, West, South and Southwest . . . All joined by a love of rivers and the water that flows through them to shape our land.

When you talk to people from the inner city -- places like the Bronx and Baltimore -- who are trying to bring back the life in their polluted urban rivers, you cannot help but be newly reminded what a gift we have in our Mokelumne and Cosumnes rivers.

As one American Indian speaker pointed out, the rivers came first. Before the people, before the towns, before "civilization."

We forget that too often. Our land was shaped by the native people who lived here for thousands of years before us, and it has been further shaped by those who arrived during the Gold Rush and everyone who came after.

But before people began to "manage" this land, the rivers and creeks carved our deep canyons, shaped our hills, nourished our fish and wildlife, and set the stage for us. Just like our historical sites -- the mines, the towns, the rock walls -- our rivers are our heritage. They are part of who we are.

Bloomin' crazy

Our home wildflowers are amazing now after a slow start. Yesterday and today, I saw all of the flowers listed below as well as some I haven't yet identified. Most are in our meadow or on its fringes:

• Four kinds of monkeyflowers: yellow, yellow/white, pink tubular, pink/purple/yellow

• Larkspur
• Meadowfoam
• Yellow broadeia (a tritelia)
• A blue broadeia
• Woodland star
• Wilding pinks (see April flower post)
• Milkweed
• Mallow

  

• Vetch
• Wild onions
• Yellow violets
• Madia, a yellow composite dominating the meadow

  

Night owl

One of the things I appreciate most about living here in Amador County is the night.

Our skies are relatively dark, so we can still see myriad stars, blazing comets, metors of all varieties -- flashy ones, slow faders with long tails, loopy ones -- and the great wash of the Milky Way. We can smell the scent of the bay laurel and the mock orange. And we can hear the sound of owls at night.

One owl we hear each spring is the saw-whet owl. Even though we've lived in this place for 27 years, we first noticed this particular owl's call a few years ago. It sounded almost electronic -- a regular, repeating woop-woop-woop-woop-woop that sounds over and over from somewhere deep in the woods.

We really weren't sure what it was. Pete, being the careful sound-guy listener, finally decided he could hear the creator of the sound stop every now and then to catch a breath. So we decided it must be a bird rather than an insect. But we still weren't exactly sure. And even if it was a bird, we weren't sure what kind.

Our neighbor Ron called Pete one night to ask him to "stop making that annoying electronic sound." He meant the mystery bird call. (It does go on.)

Pete suggested to Ron that he step out onto his deck and listen for the brief interval when the bird catches its breath. Ron didn't believe him -- but did check it out -- and was satisfied that Pete wasn't the source of the elusive sound. But we still didn't know what it was.

So Pete got out some sound gear. He stuck a microphone out on the deck in the darkness, and sure enough, after a while, the bird began to call from the woods beyond the house. So we had the sound on tape, and we could listen to it, but we were stuck. We still didn't know what it was.

Not long after, our friend Jim, an amazing birder who knows bird songs like no one I've ever known, came to visit. He put a name to our mystery caller: the northern saw-whet owl. Using a bit of imagination, you can see how its repetitive call could conjure up the sound of a file sharpening a saw.

Now we hear the saw-whet owl every spring, even though we have yet to see him. It's one of the signs that spring has really arrived. He's back now, adding his call to that of the screech owl we're hearing these days. And before long, the great horned owls will be in the neighborhood for the summer.

I heard E.O. Wilson on NPR today, saying that while scientists have identified 1.8 million species of living things, that may be as few as 10 percent of all life on earth. In discussing the importance of learning about the creatures that share our planet with us, Wilson quoted a Chinese proverb that says, "The beginning of wisdom is getting things by their right names."

I'm not sure how wise we are yet, but we do know this one owl's name. And maybe one day, we'll see him, too.

See and hear the owls yourself

Encyclopedia of Life -- a new project . . .