Tomales Bay hunting season protested WEST MARIN Neighbors, hunters at odds over the use of Tomales Reserve

Two waterfowl hunters, whose names were not provided, navigate in a boat after hunting at Tomales Bay Ecological Reserve in Bivalve, Calif. on Saturday, Nov. 17, 2012. A newly-formed environmental group called Action Tomales Bay is seeking to petition the California Department of Fish and Game to stop waterfowl gaming in the Reserve. Though waterfowl gaming is currently legal and regulated, members of the action argue that the gaming creates unacceptable noise disturbances during early morning and evening hours and puts recreational users of the bay at risk. Hunters, however, reason that hunting in the reserve has been going on safely for generations and participants are just as environmentally conscious as their opponents. less Two waterfowl hunters, whose names were not provided, navigate in a boat after hunting at Tomales Bay Ecological Reserve in Bivalve, Calif. on Saturday, Nov. 17, 2012. A newly-formed environmental group called ... more Photo: Stephen Lam, Special To The Chronicle Photo: Stephen Lam, Special To The Chronicle Image 1 of / 14 Caption Close Tomales Bay hunting season protested 1 / 14 Back to Gallery

The winter migration of waterfowl over Tomales Bay is in full swing, and so is the squabble over duck hunting on a state-owned reserve at the estuary's southern end near the town of Point Reyes Station.

The Tomales Bay Ecological Reserve is 483 acres of salt marsh and tidal flats that attract flights of local and migratory ducks and geese to an area that has been hunted by West Marin shotgunners for more than a century.

But the sport is being challenged by animal rights advocates and some residents who are fed up with being awakened at dawn as hunters blast away in a place they think should be reserved for bird watching, not bird shooting.

"It's not the same place as it was when they hunted years ago," said Pat Healy, who has lived for more than 40 years in Point Reyes Station, population about 900. "It's past its time as a hunting ground."

It's another case of one group's established tradition colliding with another group's push for change.

And both sides are aggressively collecting signatures on petitions supporting their views.

In the middle is the state Department of Fish and Game, which owns the reserve and allows waterfowl hunting from mid-October to late January - a privilege opponents want rescinded.

Healy is among a dozen or so homeowners who in recent weeks have gathered outside of the downtown Post Office and collected hundreds of signatures from locals and visitors. Their petition asserts that hunting "negatively impacts wildlife in the area, creates an unacceptable noise disturbance for our bayside communities and puts recreational users of the bay at risk."

A way of life

Hunters, however, say the complaints are unfounded and dismiss them as attempts to infringe on a way of life that lifelong residents such as Robert Arndt of Inverness trace to their ancestors.

"I am the fourth generation hunting on Tomales Bay. ... My kids will be the fifth and, if I'm lucky, my grandkids will be the sixth," said Arndt, 46, who runs a local construction company.

Like others who grew up in the area, Arndt learned to hunt in the reserve as a youngster with his father and grandfather. He is among the hunters who regularly set out their blinds and decoys and say they are "trying to preserve something for the next generation" in a county where public hunting areas are limited to two other sites - on San Pablo Bay and the Petaluma Marsh.

"It's not just about me," he said. "If we take this away, then the young people who are coming up in our society will not get a chance to experience what I experience."

Retired Marin County deputy sheriff Skip Richardson agreed.

"It's part of our ancestry," said Richardson, who remembered hunting lessons from his dad and granddad during overcast days spent in the bay, and the many subsequent outings he spent there with his children.

"But I resent the fact that people with no standing come in here and try to take a way a God-given right every resident has had for several hundred years," he added.

Awakened by shots

Homeowners who live near the bay, such as Sylvia Timbers, see it differently and complain they are awakened on weekends by the sound of shotguns targeting waterfowl in the wetlands.

"It's not just hearing the gunshots," said Timbers, an author whose hillside home in Inverness overlooks a part of the reserve a quarter mile away.

She said she is offended that hunters use blinds, decoys and duck calls to lure birds away from a nearby sanctuary, where hunting is outlawed. "We invite these birds to a party and hunters shoot them when they get there - it's just awful."

That sanctuary is the 560-acre Giacomini Wetlands, once a sprawling dairy pasture created from reclaimed marsh and tidal land by a prominent ranching family. It was purchased in 2008 by the National Park Service as a restoration site to help return Tomales Bay to its natural state. Hunting is outlawed there, but the property abuts the Fish and Game reserve, where hunting is allowed.

Hunting near what conservationists agree is a haven for wildlife is seen by Susan Prince and other animal rights activists as an "ecological trap."

"Ethically, (hunting is) just the wrong thing to do," said Prince, who has lived for 15 years in Point Reyes Station. "It's for the enjoyment of a few people and has an adverse affect on many more."

Timbers, who has lived in the area for more than 15 years, started an online advocacy group last year after she was awakened by "40 to 50" gunshots. The group, called Action Tomales Bay, is meant to draw attention to what Timbers said is an increasing level of hunting that has distressed a growing number of homeowners each season.

Hunters organize

Meanwhile, nearly 600 hunters and other supporters from across the region have signed an online petition on www.change.org, a Web site that Scott McMorrow of Inverness set up to keep the reserve open to hunting. McMorrow, who seldom hunts, said he believes hunters should have a platform to help protect their sport.

Both sides plan to present petitions in May to the California Fish and Game Commission, which adopts and oversees policies of the Department of Fish and Game.

John Krause, a wildlife biologist for Fish and Game, said the reserve is patrolled by game wardens who enforce hunting regulations that include a daily bag of seven ducks and eight geese per hunter. Hunting is permitted in the reserve between sunrise and sunset.

"If hunters are within the reserve and they're not trespassing," Krause said, "they're totally legal."

The disparate views that for years have shaped hunting into a contentious issue in West Marin are acknowledged by Craig Allen, who traveled one recent weekend to the reserve from his Santa Rosa home in Sonoma County, where he said public hunting spots are too crowded.

"We understand what's going on out here," Allen said as he emerged from the fog-shrouded reserve just after dawn with his hunting partner, ducks slung over their shoulders. "We're not trying to offend anyone. We're sympathetic to part of their reasoning - we understand they're sleeping."

But what some see as unjustifiable killing, he said, "I look at it as harvesting."

"The only thing I target is something that's going to go into my freezer and be consumed by my family."