My first year living in Banning a neighbor asked me if “the bear got in your trash too.” Surely, he meant a possum, I thought, but I asked around and three other neighbors spotted the bear as well. “They always come down in the spring.” I was assured there was nothing to worry about and I didn’t worry about much –other than the potential of having my trash strewn about.
I haven’t heard of a bear sighting since, but started awake this spring to song dogs calling in the dark. I wasn’t sure where I was when I woke and it was disconcerting feeling. Was I outside? Was I safe? Things were hunting. I was sure that the two packs calling back and fourth were more than a few coyotes strong. Then I shook off the primitive chill that had seized me, pulling a pillow over my head and hoping that a night of singing predators might mean a few less feral cats yowling beneath my window in heat.
Two weeks ago there was a mountain lion spotted two blocks over from me. We’re a pragmatic town. Someone threw a lawn chair at it, suggesting it not prowl down the asphalt. No one got out a gun or called animal control. They just let the police dispatcher know– just in case it might startle someone else.
The thing is, it’s pretty suburban here. No open fields. No large lots. Just a lot of homes built in the 20s and 30s and a lot of people whose families have been here a long time and welcome the occasional surprise guest. There’s a wilderness trail a mile north from me however that leads all the way to Big Bear. Sometimes the wild wanders down.
I just finished reading “Where the Wild Things Were” and as I wait for Steve at Q to review it, I have been thinking that I’m fortunate. There’s a healthy ecosystem up the road that in a good rain year is thick with wildflowers and always fragrant with sage. The herbivores won’t get the upper hand anytime soon either. The quail should have plenty of places to hide from Cooper’s hawks. Maybe that’s why there are always so many — of both. I haven’t seen many mule deer either. A mountain lion in town means there likely won’t ever be too many deer. It’s a beautiful balance, one to be admired if not worshipped. Â
Banning. No one lives in Banning! Both
of my parents grew up in Banning. Both
of my Grandfathers died there. One is
Buried up in that beautiful cemetery
up the hill. We buried my grandmother
there next to him almost 40 years later.
My grandfather was a Dr. who had his office
on the second floor. His headstone says.
Addis Langston
Office upstairs.
That was my Fathers idea. Smart guy my dad.
I never met him. He died 5 years before I was
born. A little banning trivia….
Paul
You mean everyone doesn’t know where Banning is?
Thanks for sharing. I love that this place has so much history!
Paul’s Dad here: The chickens always go home to roost…Cathedral City, CA…Not too far from Banning…Paul has forgotten, but he also has a GREAT grandmother buried up in that (now) beautiful cemetery…
Don’t know if Paul wrote another reply to your blog, but he’s also a falconer. Started as a young sprout…Raised mice and rats to feed to barn owls, and Red Tailed hawk… The bait animals broke out and invaded the neighborhood… (This in Northern CA – Danville)
I write for my own amazement…Getting a little creaky, but still able to play a round of golf…
Tod
Thank you for dropping a line, Tod! I think many falconry parents had to endure some strange things from our childhood. I can’t believe my grandparent put up with all they did!
Now I’m going to have to walk up the street (yes, it’s up the street) and look for the headstones from you family. It really is a beautiful cementary. And the internet surely does make the world a very small place.