Citizens Organize State-Funded Nature Walks in Sacramento

Sacramento Bee – January 02, 2008
By Blair Anthony Robertson

Early New Year's Day, when most of us were sleeping off the champagne and recovering from the revelry, about two dozen neighbors gathered not far from their very urban homes to celebrate something timeless.

The plan was to walk in the woods, look at the wildlife and be one with nature – without ever leaving the neighborhood.

As several folks gathered at 8:30 a.m. around the coffee and bagels at Sutter's Landing Regional Park, once the home of the city dump, they caught their first glimpse of the wild world just minutes from their doorsteps – a well-fed coyote shuffling through the riparian forest.

When the nature walk began minutes later, folks armed with binoculars and cameras spotted cormorants perched across the river, a far-off hawk contemplating breakfast, a pastiche of animal prints in the muddy riverbank, mallards swimming next to geese and evidence all around of beavers chomping on trees.

Much of the enthusiasm for such outings comes from Robert Sewell, a 65-year-old retired wedding photographer who practically beams at the sight of any creature more exotic than a common crow.

Sewell and some of his midtown Sacramento neighbors had talked over the years about the importance of the nearby American River as a natural resource, albeit an often-overlooked one. About three years ago, they started going on walks.

Last year, after they read the book "Last Child in the Woods" by Richard Louv, they decided to put their ideas into action.

The subtitle of Louv's book is "Saving Our Children From Nature-Deficit Disorder," and that's precisely what Sewell and friends wanted to do in midtown. They applied for a First 5 grant from the cigarette tax funds and began to conduct field trips for area schools.

Among those who were part of the conversation from the beginning were Stella Levy and Richard Cohen, husband and wife lawyers, along with Laurie Litman, a graphic designer, and husband Dale Steele, a biologist with the Department of Fish and Game.

Ed Cox, the city's bike and pedestrian coordinator, heard about the event via e-mail and was among those who arrived on an unseasonably cold morning to follow along.

"I like to be out in the open and not feel like I'm closed in by the city," he said of the area, which is part of the American River Parkway. "It's a great opportunity for us to learn to appreciate what a lot of people don't realize is so close to us."

On Tuesday, it was mostly adults and a few children who showed up. The walk began with several people noting how low the water level was.

As the group headed from the parking lot to the river 100 yards away, Sewell pointed 10 feet up a sycamore tree.

"Check out that height," Sewell said with childlike zeal, pointing to the gnawing marks of a beaver in the tree. Given the abundance of recent snow in the Sierra and the threat of more winter rain in the days ahead, a beaver could be chewing at the same part of the sycamore soon enough.

Moments later, Sewell pointed to the four cormorants – best known for their speedy flying and ability to dive for fish – perched on a fallen tree across the river. Then he marveled at the solitary goldeneye duck in the water and, somehow, spotted a hawk in a tree 250 yards away without lifting his binoculars.

On and on it went, Sewell's knowledge of this impossibly wild stretch in the heart of the city combined with his enthusiasm for sharing it. The only reminder of the urban hold on the area was the roar of the city's freeways, out of sight but always within earshot.

Sewell's passion rubs off on his neighbors on C Street.

"Before Robert, I had only been down here once before," said Sean Ward, walking with his wife, Lori, and daughters Aidan, 5, and Darby, 3. "He introduced us to this area in a different way, and now it's one of our favorite places to be. You've got beaver. You see salmon jumping. You're out in the middle of nature five minutes from our house."

Sewell believes this place can change lives. He grew up in small-town Georgia and remembers what it was like to walk barefoot in the woods and get to know nature's critters little by little. He's never forgotten those days, and he's worried today's kids are missing out.

"It's almost heartbreaking now to see children not doing anything really close to what we experienced," Sewell said.

"What we are doing will create a more balanced human being. It will help a child be aware of a bigger part of the community, what that child's inheritance is. You are inheriting a piece of land that has been inhabited for 10,000 to 12,000 years."

Sewell and his wife, Lyvonne, a nurse at Sutter Center for Psychiatry, moved to C Street in 1989. Years before, the self- described hippie couple traveled the country by van, stopping long enough to take odd jobs and get to know the lay of the land. Somewhere along the way, they took up meditation and joined the Summit Lighthouse, a self- realization fellowship.

The couple met at a bookstore in Harlem and wound up in Sacramento by 1973, initially renting a house in Oak Park and transforming a vacant lot into a community garden.

"People tell you where to go. They can read your vibes," Sewell said.

By all accounts, the couple's backyard garden on C Street is spectacular and a popular gathering spot.

It wasn't that long ago that nature walks near Sutter's Landing were unlikely events. The area can be a haven for homeless campers, and many midtown residents were concerned about their safety and put off by the abundance of litter.

The homeless problem remains along other parts of the river, but the Sutter's Landing situation has improved considerably in recent years. In two hours of hiking Tuesday, Sewell encountered a single piece of trash – he bent over and picked up a plastic aspirin bottle.

Sewell is a beloved fixture in his neighborhood. People gravitate toward his warm and engaging way and his enthusiasm for any number of things.

And even on the unlikeliest of days – the morning after the big New Year's celebrations – they're following his lead and embracing his enthusiasm.

"This is such a small sliver of the old riparian woods," Sewell said with a smile, nodding toward the trees lining the river. "But you can easily get lost out here and think you're in a whole other world."

Lost, except for the two dozen friends and neighbors walking right behind him.

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