The Washington Post ran a series of articles on Dick Cheney last week. I’ve been reasonably sure for the last few years that Dick Cheney is The Devil, so I was interested in what the Post had to say.
No surprise that Cheney is the most powerful Vice President in history. No surprise, either, that he’s also the most secretive. The lead author of the Post series said on the McNeal-Lehrer report the other night that what was surprising was the scope of Cheney’s activities.
I’ll say! The final article focuses right here where I live in the Klamath Basin and ties into a story I’ve followed closely for seven years. Dick Cheney’s been in the thick of it all along, though this is the first time he’s been tied by name to events here. I’m afraid to look under my bed for fear of what I might find. So far, it seems that’s the only place he hasn’t left any footprints, at least none documented in the Post articles.
Over the next few days, I’ll write up a few of my own posts and see if I can explain my understanding of the local story. It’s complicated.
It begins and ends with water.
Klamath Lake is Oregon’s largest lake, running about thirty-five miles long by ten to fifteen miles wide. In addition to the lake, we’re surrounded by wetlands and wildlife refuges, a mere fraction of what existed a hundred years ago, but still impressive. The basin is a main stop-over for migrating birds on the Pacific flyway. We host the largest winter population of bald eagles in the lower forty-eight, which come here to feast on the waterfowl. In summer, I’m always delighted to see the return of the white pelicans, our city mascot, from their winter stay in Mexico. Smart birds! And beautiful and majestic in flight. This is a magnificent place to live.
No surprise that Cheney is the most powerful Vice President in history. No surprise, either, that he’s also the most secretive. The lead author of the Post series said on the McNeal-Lehrer report the other night that what was surprising was the scope of Cheney’s activities.
I’ll say! The final article focuses right here where I live in the Klamath Basin and ties into a story I’ve followed closely for seven years. Dick Cheney’s been in the thick of it all along, though this is the first time he’s been tied by name to events here. I’m afraid to look under my bed for fear of what I might find. So far, it seems that’s the only place he hasn’t left any footprints, at least none documented in the Post articles.
Over the next few days, I’ll write up a few of my own posts and see if I can explain my understanding of the local story. It’s complicated.
It begins and ends with water.
Klamath Lake is Oregon’s largest lake, running about thirty-five miles long by ten to fifteen miles wide. In addition to the lake, we’re surrounded by wetlands and wildlife refuges, a mere fraction of what existed a hundred years ago, but still impressive. The basin is a main stop-over for migrating birds on the Pacific flyway. We host the largest winter population of bald eagles in the lower forty-eight, which come here to feast on the waterfowl. In summer, I’m always delighted to see the return of the white pelicans, our city mascot, from their winter stay in Mexico. Smart birds! And beautiful and majestic in flight. This is a magnificent place to live.
The view from my front porch, with the Klamath River and Mount Shasta in the distance
But water in the basin is a scarce commodity, and everyone who has an interest in it is always fighting everyone else for their fair share and maybe a little bit more. The lake itself, despite its size, is shallow and warm, and its health depends on adequate water levels even in the dry summer months. Despite its marginal environmental conditions, it’s home to record-size trout, often running over twenty pounds. It’s also home to two endangered species of sucker fish. The Klamath Indian Tribes, which hold treaty rights for fishing and hunting, depended on the sucker fish for food until recent years. They voluntarily stopped fishing when the sucker was declared endangered, but they’ve been willing to go to court to fight for lake levels that will contribute to its survival.
There are Indians downriver, too, at the mouth of the Klamath River. For countless generations the Hoopa Indians of Northern California depended on salmon runs to sustain their culture, and salmon runs depend on adequate water flows so they can swim upriver to spawn. Both commercial and recreational fishermen also depend on the salmon. At one time, the Klamath River salmon fishery was second on the West Coast only to the mighty Columbia itself. Today, native Klamath River salmon are also endangered.
Add basin agriculture into this already delicate balance. The Klamath Project, a Bureau of Reclamation project, diverts lake water to The A Canal, from which water is drawn to irrigate the fields of over a thousand family farms. And they really are family farms, too. So far, the Basin has been able to resist the spread of corporate farming, for whatever reasons. Many of the local farms go back for three or more generations.
In my next post, I’ll talk about what happened in 1991, when federal agencies cut off water to the Klamath Project to protect the endangered suckers.
Meanwhile, for homework, read Marc Reisner’s Cadillac Desert. If you have a little more time, you can read John McPhee’s Basin and Range for extra credit.
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