I took a walk over to the park the other evening, straw hat on my head, camera in my overalls' pocket. Mostly I went to soak up the day's last sunlight, but I also wanted to see the missing hedge.
At the Lindsay City Council meeting Tuesday, Oct. 8th, we learned a lot of things. The most important were what the City's planning director, Bill Zigler, has been trying to negotiate over the past month with Caltrans on the Highway 65 realignment. As of this writing, there is still no map available to the public of the new route he is working to perfect (without public input, I might add.)
Until last week, the Council didn't have one, either. Although Councilwoman Kimball had requested materials to study a month earlier, and though Mr. Zigler promised to bring handouts to the Council at Tuesday night's meeting, the Councilmembers themselves still didn't have a map to look at, much less show their constituents. "I forgot the handouts," he apologized as he opened his study session, saying he thought his Power Point would give them enough information to give him feedback. Thursday I called to get a copy of the handout for the library's file of agenda packets. "What handouts?" Carmen, our City Clerk who doubles as Bill's secretary, said. "I don't know about any handouts." When I reminded her of Bill's promise to deliver them, she said she'd get back to me. I'm still waiting.
Another thing we learned Tuesday was that the park's border hedge had been removed and the gravel walkway started around that curved edge. I felt some alarm when I heard it, worried that yet another "improvement" to the park would increase the diminishments I feel when I walk through that place. That's really what started my walk, camera in pocket.
As I walked down my pot-holed street, Alameda, soon to be repaved, I noticed several turkey vultures flying the same route. When I got to the once-grassy triangle on the east side of Parkside, I saw they were roosting in the tallest trees. "Thank God they haven't killed off those trees yet," my heart sang. Surprisingly, without the hedge the view of the park was open and inviting, and the traffic visibility on Parkside greatly improved. It gave me hope.
Then I decided to see where they have installed the swings. Some of you may remember the last time I wrote about the park and the missing swings, and how, at the very next Council meeting, Chief Wilkinson, who is also our city manager, mentioned that the swings they'd ordered had just arrived and would be installed soon. That was months ago, and I assumed it was a done deal. But after circumnavigating the park, I have to report that I didn't find any swings. Councilman Salinas's son Matt's skate board park is progressing, but I still don't see any swings.
What I did find is that we have a new pharmacy in the old Redwood Pharmacy building across from what was once going to be the luxurious condo-complex Sequoia Villas but is now fast becoming a cluster of Section 8 units being built by the Tulare County Housing Authority. I was so excited to see a business return to that site, and one we sorely need. I spoke with the pharmacist, Dr. Edem Afaha, who says he's been there about a month and is looking forward to serving our community. Please, friends, let's help this new business get established - just in case Rite Aid leaves town thanks to the Hwy 65 re-realignment.
While we were talking, I found myself telling Dr. Afaha about the recent history of our town. "It's like that everywhere," he said. "I know," I said, "but it seems to me in a town this size we ought to be able to have a democracy," repeating a fond refrain. He proceeded to tell me a story about a particularly arrogant city manager in Taft where he was the Rite-Aid pharmacist years ago. "Big fish," we agreed - us little ponds attract wanna-be big fish sometimes. But I felt like I'd met a kindred spirit.
As the sun sank behind the Coast Range, I wandered back home through the nearly empty park. There was a young woman studying at one of the small covered tables, her computer plugged into the electrical outlet. I felt kinship with her, too - that's where I would have been at her age. I noticed more turkey vultures roosting in the triangle's trees, and a stream of them flying both directions along Alameda. "Where are they coming from?" I wondered. Normally we don't see turkey vultures in town, except one or two circling high above. But this was massive and right overhead - it was like the nightly flight of crows back in Davis who came in from the fields to sleep in the huge street trees there. Then, a block from home, I saw the source: an entire flock was roosting in my giant, overgrown Chinese Elms.
The old saying "Birds of a feather flock together," came to mind, the truth of it swaying in the branches. I stopped to talk with neighbors about the phenomenon, including Philip and Trish Gutierrez. Philip was in awe, Trish slightly more apprehensive, but they confirmed they'd never seen this before, either, and both have spent most of their lives in this town.
Later that night, I called friends in Sacramento, naturalists who would know why I was suddenly so honored with house-guests. "They're on their way to Central and South America," my friend Steve Laymon said, and told me about counting thousands one year when they lived in Kern Valley along the vultures' migratory route. "I didn't know they migrated," I replied. "Some do, some don't," he answered, opening up the real mystery of the natural world we inhabit.
They were still there in the morning, drying their wings before take-off, gone by the afternoon. I loved having this view of community survival, a flock of sojourners responding to nature's call to do the impossible year after year. It reminded me of the strength in numbers, the power of kindred spirits, the beauty of Community. I'm glad I took that walk.
(For you ornithologists and other bird-lovers out there, this flock arrived October 10th and left on the 11th. They or other migrating TVs may have flown over my friend Jim's house in Twenty-nine Palms the following day.)
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Trudy Wischemann is a normally solitary sojourner who too often forgets she belongs. You can send her your turkey vulture sightings or other stories of community to P.O. Box 1374, Lindsay CA 93247 or leave a comment below.
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