There was a young dead deer lying alongside the road in Las Flores Canyon this morning, which always makes me very sad. There was barely a mark on the animal, other than a little blood from its mouth; obviously a car had hit it. This year, as dry as it’s been, appears to have brought many of the deer out of the hills down into the neighborhoods, where the grass is greener and where we hire gardeners to put in what nature has left out, namely water. In the main, the deer seem to have grown accustomed to people, but they simply have no ability to understand traffic. They don’t see automobiles as predators and have this practice of jumping out at the last moment as headlights approach. In the La Costa Hills, where we live, there are a number of deer trails, which the locals have all learned. Most of us try to remember to slow down where they cross. Sharing turf with the animal kingdom is not always easy. We occasionally have deer walking across our patio to sample our rose bushes, which is apparently a deer delicacy, and then to the street below.
My dog, Ella, and I regularly walk through Legacy Park, where the egrets and ducks have settled in. This yellowish algae you see in the creek, the lagoon and in the park may be an annoyance to people, but is a virtual treasure trove for the birds; it’s a bird buffet, and with a little discharged water, the bird population zooms, but it’s not without some drama.
There is a goose that lives alone in Legacy Park among the egrets. Originally there were two geese, apparently a couple, that stopped in the park. One night, a predator caught one of the geese, and there were feathers and some bones over the ground the next morning. I’ve been told that at night, the coyotes and raccoons are regular visitors to the park. Since that fateful night, the single goose has stayed, kind of like it expected its mate to return one day. Every time we pass the goose I can’t help but think it looks sad, and I still haven’t found a name for it. It would help if I knew if it was male or female.
One of the charms of Malibu is that we live in the interface between the animal kingdom and the human kingdom. Ten minutes from PCH, you’re in a wilderness, which is rare in LA. It’s inevitable there are some clashes as we get too close to each other. It’s surprising that they are relatively rare. But it’s easy to forget that raccoons have very sharp teeth, as do coyotes.
But given my choice, I’d rather live with the coyotes and raccoons than with the tourists. Thankfully, after Labor Day most of the tourists go home. Even the ranks of the weekenders thin out and there is always a sense of relief that we’re going to get our town back. I know, we’re dependent on the visitors’ dollars to keep our town financially healthy and thriving, but their dollars are a decidedly mixed blessing.
All summer, I look down from our hill at this line of headlights going back toward Santa Monica, thankful that I live here. Whatever the charms of LA, spending two hours in a car getting to anything downtown is more then I ever want to do. Fortunately, we’re developing local institutions like the Malibu Film Society, Malibu Playhouse, and the Pepperdine theater and museum. Malibu, in the next decade, will continue to grow its rich cultural life.
So, give thanks that we live in a paradise with natural beauty, incomparable weather and a population that, generally speaking, believes in live and let live—with a few notable and unnamed exceptions.