More beaver intrigue from Rick Marsi:
Beaver lodge visits make waders required attire
Put on your long johns and waders. We’re going over to the biggest beaver pond around to see what we can see.
The pond consists of a tangled mass of small willows and alders, flooded to a level of 3 or 4 feet. Near its center, where the beaver lodge is located, the water becomes deeper and relatively uncluttered.
As we approach the pond through this stand of trembling aspen, don’t be surprised if a woodcock flies up in front of us. The poplar-lined stream banks beavers choose for pond sites also provide prime habitat for woodcock.
Look at the size of this aspen the beavers have just cut down. It must measure 12 inches in diameter. Beavers won’t inhabit an area that doesn’t offer abundant soft wood trees such as aspen and willow. A tree this size is an easy night’s work for the beaver’s four chisel-shaped incisors.
We’ll follow this well-worn path down to the pond. Beavers use this route for dragging freshly cut branches to the water. These paths usually lead to fairly open channels that emanate from the lodge and provide beavers with a waterway system that penetrates the most tangled sections of the pond. Hopefully, this channel won’t run too deep, and we’ll be able to follow it to the lodge.
As we move through dark water, walk slowly and quietly. Test your footing before each step. The pond is loaded with submerged tree branches and muddy drop-offs.
Beavers have added fresh mud and sticks to it in recent days. They’re insulating for winter. Note all the branches they’ve buried underwater to provide an adequate winter food supply. When the pond is frozen, beavers will dive out of an underwater lodge exit to access the branches. Once dragged back to the lodge, each branch will be twirled about by front paws, while its soft outer bark gets eaten like corn on the cob.
Now that’s a fun read. The title gripped me with terror that they were working there way IN the lodge, but the actual column is just delightful appreciation. It talks about wildlife at the pond, and the varied pond floor which we know means bug variation. And he doesn’t bother the beavers, which is perfect etiquette in my book.
We should take our leave before darkness falls. A northwest wind and chilly water have got me shivering. I wanted you to see this place before ice entombed it, so you’ll be able to come back on your own next spring.
Fun ad this morning for a new notebook. See if you can spot the most impressive photo-shopped image:
And the Yakima outrage from yesterday gets better [worse]. Leonard Houston sent a note this morning pointing out that the beaver left behind had an ear tag. That means they know all about this abandoned soldier. They know his number and they know he didn’t make it into the mothership for rescue.
They just couldn’t be bothered.
Or I suppose the kindest possible interpretation is that the beavers they relocated weren’t tagged. And this is one relocating himself into vacated lodge the very next day. Which, come to think of it, is as good as an explanation of why getting rid of beavers doesn’t solve problems as I can think of.
