Two years ago we anxiously pushed through the last sad hours of mom’s life and an unbelievable drive to UCD with her body packed on ice to deliver it for necropsy. Then we anxiously went to the dam after sundown to see what would happen. I thought we should remember it all again. It seems like it was a million years ago and just exactly yesterday, but I guess that’s how dramatic losses feel. The strange thing is that the two year old who adopted the kits seemed so much older than the three grown kits we have now, although they are exactly the same age.
Last night we went anxiously to see what happened with our newly “orphaned” kits. The day’s loss was heavy on our hearts but we were worried that our kits could face a tough road ahead. I had a long conversation with Sharon Brown of Beavers: Wetlands and Wildlife about whether our kits were old enough to stop nursing. She assured me they were. And then we watched and waited.
The biyearling (one of our three kits from 2008) has been hanging around the pond more than usual. S/he used to head downstream for long forages on his own. The last few days s/he has been much closer to home and there have been several protective tail slaps seen. This is a sleek, handsome, nearly adult beaver. Last night they approached the area where the kit was feeding and we were hopeful for a full on acceptance of him or her as parent. It didn’t happen at first.
The biyearling brought branches from the dam into the lodge. Then went up on his own and gathered some from the area of the felled tree and brought those in as well, like a suitor bearing daisies to win the girl. He or she swam around protectively and made their presence known. Then we saw this. I’m leaving the audio in on purpose so you can hear the kit whining for care and attention. I wish the sounds of human weeping weren’t also audible, but it was a long day and the whole scene was heart-wrenching.
I realized at this moment that our kits have been “acting older” than they are because of mom’s health. Their foraging and being out on their own was merely an attempt to get food that they couldn’t receive with her. With mom there, even sick, the yearling felt less responsibility to step up and take care of them. Now that mom was gone, our babies were acting like babies again. And our yearling was becoming a parent.
We haven’t heard adult-directed whining for a week or more. Or seen a beaver back-ride since that first film of baby and mom. It’s as if our kits were given a fresh start last night. They get to be cared for and babied. And their dependency activated remarkable parenting in the yearling. It was truly lovely to see.
The light was fading fast, but in the above you should dimly be able to see two kits perched on the biyearlings back and carried into the lodge. Our babies can be babies again, and in the span of 24 hours our biyearling has become a remarkable parent. Surely some of this process is instinctual, activated by the need of the kits and the corresponding need to nurture. But some of this parenting must be learned, because our biyearling had the very best possible teacher on how to be a mom.
The teacher herself would be so proud.
