TIPPING POINT

Each year, without fail, we have one special guest, some sort of beast we’ve never seen before. It becomes our focus as we learn about it and enjoy observing it. One year we had an orchid in the woods, but just that once. One summer we had the Green Herons. (See March 17-20.) Before that we were inundated with dragonflies of every kind and color. I’d never spotted a warbler, then two years ago a flock took up residence beyond the pond.

 Last spring we hit the jackpot. There was evidence of a beaver in our pond, and I’d never seen them at work. I was excited.

Because the water was so high last year, small trees that once had been around the pond were now in the pond. They were about a yard or two from shore. Some of those trees, which would rot anyway, had been downed by a beaver, leaving a field of freshly sharpened pencils sticking up out of the water. A tall tree would be down on the water one day and gone the next.

The beaver was taking these logs to a small island at one end of the pond. In dry years, the island is part of the shore; in wet years, it becomes isolated. It’s a big mound of earth with several huge trees and some underbrush. The beaver, working efficiently, simply added logs to the island rather than starting a lodge from the ground up. I watched day after day as our drowning willows and poplars disappeared, and the lodge took on surprising proportions.

Take a whiff––this is my place!

 I didn’t catch sight of the beaver for a while, but I knew it was there. When I paddled my kayak around the  island lodge, there was a pungent aroma very appropriate for a huge rodent. They make a pile of not-so-jazzy scat on the shore nearby as a way of claiming their territory. I'm glad we go with house numbers.

One night I walked, flashlight in hand, down to the dock where I had left my glasses. When I reached the pond there was a massive smack, then I could see water splash four feet in the air. It took a minute to get my heart rate back below 200. I got the message. This is my pond at night. 

How cool is it to see a beaver lodge built right before your eyes? And without losing any trees from our woods at that. These guys were cleaning up our pond––that was a bonus. Excessive dead trees and leaves are not good for pond water.

I did catch a few glimpses of the beaver. Once he let me drift quite close to him. When I pushed my luck, he dove down, and I saw him disappear under the island. At times like that, I cannot imagine living in the city.

Then one morning I spotted something a couple of yards up the hill in the woods. It was the pointy stump of a large tree. Not a little tree. Not a tree in the water that was going to die anyway. There were still trees in the pond the beaver could have harvested, but he had gotten greedy. He’d taken down a beautiful, viable tree.

At that moment, 


Interesting, cute, industrious beaver 

became 

Evil, destructive enemy of the people. 

War was declared.

Tomorrow: Bring it on!