A Beaver Tale

I was taking some photos of a Great Egret in the shallows of a pond one evening when I heard rustling in the thicket behind me. I turned to see a big beaver dragging a tree out of the forest; a small conifer that might have been the perfect Christmas tree for a downtown condo.

The beaver was bulky on its short legs as it shuffled down the path toward me. It had sleek, dark-brown fur and a naked, paddle-shaped tail. It’s body was as big as a large dog’s and humped in shape and it must have weighed about seventy or eighty pounds.

As it hauled its tree to the water’s edge, the beaver passed ten feet from where I stood in the reedy muck. It had seen me now and it had a funny way of walking as it hurried past; picking up its flat feet in a circular motion, like someone riding a bicycle. It swam off into the pond with its prize and I could see it was headed to its lodge across the bay.

The lodge was a huge pile of logs and sticks that the beavers had peeled and heaped together, a sprawling example of beaver engineering, and I knew it was home to several of them.

I left my blind of logs by the marsh and walked back down the gravel road through the forest, then took a sandy path out through the trees and down along the far shore to the lodge.

Approaching the lodge quietly, the dry sand of the path absorbing my footfalls, I sat down beside the path and waited. There was a scraping sound coming from the woods behind the lodge.

Soon I saw the source of the sound; a medium-sized beaver was standing on its round haunches, leaning against the trunk of a fallen tree and, with its long front teeth, tearing off strips of bark to chew. Wood chips littered the ground at its feet. Beavers not only build with trees but they also like to eat the soft, inner bark of trunks and branches, especially through the colder months, and will eat twigs whole.

There was a distinct beaver smell in the area and I imagined that the air inside the lodge would be close, especially with them being cooped up in it all winter; humid, damp and redolent of castor. Think of wet-dog smell in a confined space for months on end, then change the fur to that of a large amphibious rodent. I believe the inside of that lodge would provide a rich atmosphere for the senses; indeed, I think it would be pungent enough to make your eyes water.

Two sibling beavers came from the lodge, emerging through a muddy hole beside it, to amble up the slope in front of me and join their brother in dining on the tree bark. The gnawing sound made by the three of them from about ten metres away was loud; perhaps not too surprising once you saw the size of trees they were capable of felling with their long, dark-yellow incisor teeth.

I was thrilled to have been there close by, to have watched their comings and goings for a while and to have seen them feeding before nightfall. I knew I had to come back and see more, learn about these fascinating creatures not from a secondhand perspective but directly, by observaction and feeling, to understand them.

I found them again another night. This time I came across a few younger kits first.

It was dusk; I sat quietly with them, not-quite hidden behind some logs at pond’s edge, while they shared branches with each other. The two young beavers swam within just a few meters of the log where I sat. The mother beaver soon joined them, dragging a freshly-cut sapling down a narrow path to the pond’s edge and into the water. The kits gathered around and each took an end and began gnawing while the mother rested by some rushes.

Things are not always so harmonious at the pond.

At one point a passing Canada Goose swooped down over one of the swimming beaver kits to tap it on the head with its webbed foot! The goose actually pushed the kit’s head underwater as it skimmed low and then flew off. I guess they must compete for territory as they occupy the same limited space in the pond. Also geese can be like that.

It was interesting to watch how the beavers interacted and shared branches with each other. I enjoyed the rare opportunity of being able to observe the beavers closely in the wild, to see their relaxed feeding and family interaction. When I got up to leave they swam off. I left with the feeling of having witnessed something special.