It’s the time of year where beavers are in a ‘tailspin’ rushing about to take the last few trees into their underwater larder before the freeze. It’s also the start of trapping season in most areas, historically because their coats get big and fluffy for the snows making the pelts more valuable. There have been, literally, five stories each week describing how trapping is necessary in North Carolina or Manitoba to control the population, and more stories than I can stomach about offering a bounty for tails — even raising the price on the bounty to make it more attractive.
Now the entire country of Scotland has gone beaver-stupid on a national scale and I am stunned to read the ridiculous, fisherman-fueled, robustly unscientific trifle coming out of that country daily. Never mind that countless studies have proven that beaver dams are not only no obstacle for fish but provide essential pools for juvenile salmonid. Don’t bother me with the facts, I have my mind made up. There are even those who ignore the historical writings and skeletal remains and insist that there were probably never beaver in Scotland to begin with!
Scared people get stupid about lots of things, but I have come to believe beaver-stupidity is unique in its contagiously panicked overlook of data.
Well, let’s leave the trenches and admire the view for a morning, shall we? I was listening to a lecture last night called “Effecting Change: Advancing Global Health” with advocates from the Gates foundation talking about applying the tools of marketing to get the world to focus on solvable health problems and solutions. They felt that the real role of the advocate was to tell stories, and to tell them in such a way that other people felt inspired to help. This meant they couldn’t be too depressing or overwhelming, because then people stop listening. They had to introduce a personal view (rather than a large scale view) and show a problem that got solved.
Of course, I couldn’t help but listen with my own experience thinking about our role with the beavers. Obviously we’re talking about a much smaller, local, furry scale, but its still the same basic principal of encouraging people to get involved and to feel like they can do things that matter and effect change. Personal connection, check. Accessible story, check. Real solutions, check. Public opinion can tolerate bad news, such as the first kit’s or mom’s death, but not too much bad news, such as the wholly atrocious half million dollar ponzi scheme to install the second layer of sheetpile. There has to always show a light at the end of the tunnel and a clear path how to get there, even when we aren’t sure of the way ourselves.
There are parts of the argument I don’t like. Morally, I don’t want advocacy to be the same as marketing, and I don’t think that marketing always does such a great job anyway. (Look at the Chevy Nova sales in Mexico, for instance!) I want people to do the right thing because its the right thing, not because its convincing. Still, mostly I’m a pragmatist, and I just want them to do it. Clearly there are parts worth gleaning of this argument, reminding me to keep telling good news, or good stories inside bad news, and to always focus on solutions.
In that vein, I offer this cheerful beaver observation by veterinarian and naturalist Nelson Poirier from New Brunswick, Canada. It appeared in the TimesTranscript this weekend with the auspicious headline: Our symbolic beaver overcome challenges of the past. He took the time to document the historic value of beavers and had some pretty remarkable things to write about their role in the economy.
One may ask why this mammal has become such a significant Canadian icon, right up there with the maple leaf and common loon. All three of these icons find New Brunswick a very pleasant place to call home. Although the beaver is widely distributed throughout North America, it is very much at home here in this province and although its waterway reconstruction and dam building can occasionally create confrontation with man, for the most part it lives in harmony with us and compliments our landscape creating complete wildlife communities with its construction efforts. The beaver was the first land natural resource to be exploited in Canada and that started mainly right here in the Maritimes. The beaver pelt had always been held in high esteem by native Canadians. When Europeans arrived, however, the beaver pelt quickly became the unit of currency in the new land. Native wars and feuds were fought over rights to trapping territories as fortunes were made and lost in the fur trade.
I thought this part was pretty stunning, and it reminded me of our parallel story in California.
“The first mention of the placing of restrictions on trapping is in 1877 when the season for mink, otter, fisher, sable (marten), and beaver was set as Sept. 1 to May 1. A closed season was declared for beaver in 1897 which was continued to the present day (as being written in 1945). Permits were issued for limited trapping for a few years but this being very difficult to control, stopped in 1919. It was also found very difficult to prevent poaching, and the beaver continue to be scarce. In 1933, the game wardens estimated the total population to be 162 animals in 38 colonies. Although there were probably some colonies they had not heard of, this indicates how scarce beaver had become. During the last 12 years it has become increasingly difficult to take and dispose of beaver skins illegally and the steady increase has been reported. In 1944 in 1945, the beaver population being estimated as nearly 20,000, limited trapping was again permitted. It is interesting to note that Denys (1672) and LeClerq (1691) both called the beaver, otter, and muskrat, four-legged fish, and said they can be eaten in Lent. Even Cooney (1832) said that the beaver was considered to be the connecting link between the quadrupeds and the fish.
Of course I wrote Mr. Poirier and sent this article off to our historian friend, who has already added these papers to wikipedia. Nelson wrote back that he likes beavers a lot but they make very uncooperative veterinary patients, and “don’t even think about leg splinting them!” which made me smile. What’s stunning to me is that in 1832 a man noticed that beaver was the connecting link between quadupeds and fish and the entire country of Scotland hasn’t yet got the memo.
It’s a nice beaver article, (and yes we’re grading on a curve). Go read the whole thing and sigh wistfully that we’ll never get to see steam rising out of the vent hole for our snow-bound beaver lodge! (Although I’m sure they don’t mind at all!) Tomorrow Worth A Dam will meet 60 third graders at the dam to spread a little beaver education and gospel. Hopefully we’ll leave clues of our whereabouts so check out the sidewalks later! Wish us luck.
