Last night there was an opening event at the Creek Monkey pub and guests gathered appreciatively near the wall to watch the monkeys beavers emerge. The tide was very high, so high that the old scrape was filled at the secondary dam and little of the primary showed at all. I did get a glimpse of this though, showing us that quite a bit of work had been done last night.
What had been so painstakingly packed the night before, was a jumbled mass with all that water. I was there, breathlessly hanging on every ripple to catch ‘Dad’ when he sneaked over the dam and get a good look at his left flank. Camera ready, eyes straining into the trailing willow, ignoring the ooohing crowd as best I could, and waiting for the moment when –
BUBBLES!!!!!!!!
A razor thin line of bubbles, no bigger than the wake of a water strider and then a flurry of ripples at the gap. There was so much water I only saw the round of his back for a moment. And then the deep ripples as he swam to the Marina bridge.
“He’s over!” I called to Jon, who was waiting at the Bridge as the phantom disappeared into the blackberry brambles. We were lucky, we might never have seen him again, but it so happened that Bob Rust and his wife were sitting in Kayaks just beyond the secondary dam. The beaver was hesitant about going over, (well – through) but he was obviously willing to risk it. After reviewing his options, he dove into the middle of the soup-dam and then went straight under their boats.
He popped up for breath 10 feet away and we saw a big scraggly head in the water. Jon ran along the bank to catch up and was rewarded with the site of an adult beaver reaching up for a branch of willow and chewing it free. Jon was on his left side and didn’t see a wound. Dad!
I cheerfully chatted with Bob for a while who said he was working on a recycled latex beaver creation for the festival and thinking about having his neighbor pull it in a wagon for the children’s procession. He said they have already printed a copy of the festival sign and hung it in the window at Ally cats! Then one of our regular kit-yearlings, the larger one, came nuzzling over the dam and gave a slow paddle back towards the footbridge, reminding us with his size that we really had seen an adult.
Let’s hope that Dad doesn’t take one look at that noisy opening and kayak filled creek and thing “this neighborhood has gone to the dogs’ and disappear again! If he stays expect him to repack the primary tonight and fix the secondary tomorrow. What a perfect omen for this year’s festival!
