Mike Powell

The beavers in my local marsh have been really busy recently as winter draws near (“busy as beavers,” you might say). Each time I visit the marsh I can see evidence of their handiwork. Hmm, “handiwork” is probably not the right word, since most of the evidence I see is work they have accomplished with their teeth. Maybe I should call it “dentalwork,” but that terms conjures up images of beavers with braces on their teeth. I’ll just call it “work.”

Over the past few weeks I have been noting their progress on chewing through a pretty large tree. First they chewed one side and then it looks like they gradually moved around the circumference of the tree. Circumference? Who says that high school geometry doesn’t have everyday applications? They now have gnawed (try saying that phrase quickly multiple times) into the center of the tree and I expect to see to see a fallen tree soon. I won’t be disappointed, and certainly not crestfallen.

On a slightly more serious note, I am genuinely amazed that the beavers don’t just take down small saplings. I confess that, as a result of living most of my life in the suburbs, I don’t know much about wildlife. It’s fascinating to me to look at all of the individual tooth marks in the wood that bear witness to the persistence of this industrious creature. I also see its work in the mud walls that have been built up along the edges of parts of this little pond and the ever-increasing amounts of mud that have been packed on the lodge.

The beaver is ready for a cold winter. Am I?

Let the chips fall where they may

How do they gnaw this high?

© Michael Q. Powell. All rights reserved.

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