On the edge of the development I heard some sort of weird ruckus and followed the noise. In a small valley there was a chunk of land that was still serving its original rural function. The realtors had yet to gobble up this place. It was a poultry farm.

I'd say there were about 50 little A-frame coops all in a nice neat grid. On top of each coop was a rooster. And each rooster was crowing, trying to outdo the others. Imagine what 50 roosters all crowing at once, not listening to each other, sounds like. Every one them master of his little territory. It was a caiman's dream come true.

I thought of the Washington State Legislature, I thought of those shouting matches on political talk shows, and, sadly, I thought of Evergreen in the late 1970s and early 1980s.

When the external threats of closure subsided, and when the experimental edge had been considerably dulled, Evergreen began to enjoy a nationwide academic respectability. Part of this was due to having a true political maestro at the helm to market the product, but another part of it was due to the fact the College really deserved it. By and large the experiment was a success. But there was a flip side.

The early years of threatened extinction had created an espirit de corps in the TESC community. That was gone by the late 1970s, and when the 1980s rolled around the College was experiencing severe growing pains in attempting to define itself. By the mid-1980s the campus mood was downright ugly. Some of this was probably due to the inevitable evolutionary stages of any institution.

Today the College seems settled. Too settled. It might be time to bring in a caiman or two.