Our fair city does have one black jaguar resident, downtown, in Cat Canyon, near Sun Bear Forest, across from the Hunte Amphitheater, in the San Diego Zoo. He was born October 1992 at Wildlife World Zoo, in Litchfield, Arizona. He weighs as much as I do, about 165 pounds. His name is Orson.
Looking at the first of many instances of San Diego hydroseeding, across from Costco and Ikea along Friars Road, Deméré declared, "I don't mean to dis botany completely. I can appreciate plants." But more often along our trip he would indicate that roadside landscaping was, to a geologist, a kind of proliferating evil.
Shawn Powell and I are driving south on Jackson Drive, carrying three opossums in Powell's Hyundai Santa Fe. Our mission is to liberate them. We could stop and dump them out on the sidewalk, but that would be injudicious.
Today, Hamilton and his “grandson,” John Timmerman, have about 750 pigeons in Jamul, the largest collection in San Diego County. As we sat on the deck of their loft, amidst soft cooing and wafting feathers, Hamilton looked at his birds and smiled. “We’ve won every race there is. All the top races, top prizes, we’ve won.”
When you walk in the front door you enter another world. What was originally meant to be a living room is now his showroom/office and is filled with many mounted ducks and other birds, some fish, and three or four stunning tableaux/dioramas (as one might see in a natural history museum) combining sculpture and taxidermy.
Call them what you will — roach-boys, rat-men, rat-catchers, terminators, pest technicians — the fact is that pest inspectors are professional killers.