The animals are taking over the beach, and they are hungry. With humans now banned from the spaces their tax dollars fund, critters are free to roam. Giant flocks of grebes and terns have made the inner and outer waters of Cabrillo their home, holding cacophonous mating gatherings — yes, orgies — day after day. Skunks roam the beach and hills brazenly, toddling across the sands. A fox trotted down the middle of Stephen M. White Drive midday. Skinny, it looked not liberated, but desperate. The animals here are dependent on human waste for their food, and they are starving. The sky may be enjoying its respite from pollution, but the critters that have learned to coexist with us are now on their own.
Rid of mechanical noise, the sound is magical. I find myself shunning human music in order to listen to the birds. Our neighbor, an adult male somewhere on the autism scale who is an avid birder, has taken it upon himself to try to feed all the gulls, crows, ravens, and squirrels in the neighborhood. We constantly hear birds landing and walking across our roof, the gulls’ pink webbed feet sometimes visible through our skylight.
We inherited this virus by violating our relationship with wild beasts, and we are not the only critters paying the cost. The balance of nature is off.