What matters it how far we go?
His scaly friend replied
There is another shore, you know.
Upon the other side.

When I read these credits on this article the other day, I was certain they had made a typo. A quick consultation with our friend the Spokane author reassured me that everything was perfect as it was written. There is, in fact, another Ben who writes nice things about beavers upon the other shore. Well, okay then,

The triumphant return of the British beaver

Ben Goldsmith

There is a particularly magical West Country woodland that I know, through which a sunlit stream meanders, braided by a series of neatly dammed pools that hum with life; dragonflies and mayflies, swallows, swifts, kingfishers, amphibians and small fish teem here in numbers rarely seen in Britain. The birdsong is cacophonous. The water’s edge is lined with the fresh growth of willow, hazel and alder, artfully coppiced as if by a skilful gardener. This wood happens to be home to a family of reintroduced beavers.

You see my confusion. “Cacophonous”? “braided?” Sure sounds like the Ben we know writing big flowery big words about beavers. But no, it’s another Ben entirely! A British Ben! (No, not the clock.)

Streams engineered in this way by beavers play a critical role in protecting us from flooding, as well as from seasonal drought. Without beaver dams, winter rainfall brings a torrent of water that rushes downstream, causing flash flooding. That gives way to dry, lifeless gullies in the summer once the water has gone. Beaver dams slow the flow of water, giving nature time to sift it of sediment and impurities, and release it evenly through the year.

The return of beavers to Britain, along with all that they do to bring life into our landscapes, is truly a marvel.

Two continents of Ben’s praising beavers! I’m liking this! Can there be more? I like the idea of being surrounded by Ben-beaver wisdom. No matter what direction you embark you could find a Ben to tell you why beavers matter. Let’s work on the idea of asia-Ben.

In areas where beavers do present a problem, such as in man-made ditches designed to keep low-lying arable land from being flooded, they must be managed, preferably non–lethally. But opposition to the return of beavers mostly arises from misunderstanding. There are worries that migratory fish such as salmon and trout might be unable to make it past beaver dams, which ignores the fact that they co-evolved over millions of years with beavers. And some people object to the ‘mess’ created by beavers along the water’s edge. Considering that the majority of our land is stripped, cultivated, tidied and managed by humans, surely we can we allow nature a bit of free rein along our watercourses.

The return of beavers to Britain, along with all that they do to bring life into our landscapes, is truly a marvel.

I suppose, somewhere in the annals of history, there is an American writer who noticed beaver were reappearing on the landscape in 1912 or 20 and observed how wonderful it was to see them back on the landscape. It’s hard to imagine now, but I sure wish I had been there, to see the streams spark to life again. Of course by the time the beavers were coming back we were already ruining their waterways with unchecked American industry of our own, so I guess for a long time they cancelled each other out.

Still its fun to watch others discover what you already know and love.

And just to make sure you get both your daily-Ben doses, there was a nice interview on the “Down to Earth podcast” out of New Mexico yesterday. I think you’ll enjoy this listen to “The little Rodent that Could“. It’s a smart discussion of why beavers matter to an arid state, and the interviewer is both surprised and curious about the right things.