I found this lovely account of “Ducky” which appeared this weekend, not surprisingly, in Skip Lisle’s home state. It is second only to “Voyage of the dammed” for sheer respect and admiration of the animal. It’s beautiful, intimate writing of one woman keeping watch on a beaver. Gosh, I can’t possibly imagine why it appeals to me, can you?
I will never forget the evening of Ducky’s formal debut, an event that took place during my first summer of beaver watching. I had waited for weeks to see the kits, but they never appeared when I was there. That evening, Willow, the matriarch, arrived to sample the picnic I brought for her, as had become her habit. Instead of finishing her refreshment, however, she ate just a little and then swam away.
She soon returned with a miniature beaver bobbing beside her. Willow strolled back up to her picnic while Ducky sat up in the shallow water, little paws tucked up to her chest and watched. Her wonder could not have equaled mine. I like to think that Willow had decided it was time to show off her baby. At the very least, allowing the kit to follow her to the picnic site demonstrated the degree of trust she felt in me.
The delightful story follows the details of Ducky’s growing up, and youthful habit of taking more from the larder than she saved. The author follows the stream when she disperses and identifies her selected territory. It’s a beautiful look at compassionate stewardship for beavers, which I believe we can all benefit from! Go read the whole thing and maybe then you’ll feel like writing the author to thank her.
As I approached an old dam, I saw that water had collected behind it again. Sure enough, a beaver’s wake sliced across the dark pool as I approached. Ducky swam right up for her apples. This site did have an abundance of winter forage, and though just a 15-minute stroll from my house, it was still remote from other humans.
Beaver trails, canals and a harvest of alder branches suggested Ducky was not just passing through. As I gazed upstream, admiring the pretty valley, I saw the second beaver. He swam right over. Ducky, busy with an apple, greeted him with a few little squeak-whines. The new beaver emitted a low growl-like hum, then a warning huff and for good measure, slapped with his tail. When he surfaced, I explained that I’d known Ducky since she was in pigtails, so he’d better get used to my visits. He huffed again and swam off.
Despite this cool reception, I was delighted to meet Ducky’s mate. In the fairy tales this is where the story would end, and perhaps in the relatively uncomplicated world of a beaver, I could conclude with “and they all lived happily ever after.” I prefer to think of this as the beginning of a story. You bet, I’ll keep you posted.
Patti Smith is a naturalist at the Bonnyvale Environmental Education Center. The View From Heifer Hill, a feature on the nature of our region, appears in this space the first Saturday of each month. Patti welcomes your feedback at grayfox@vtrocket.com.
More good news from our Raging Grannies friend Ruth Robertson (Part I) whose article (Part II) appears in “Positive News“. It’s a fun read, but if she had ran it by me I would have told her that the photo was wrongly titled by about 45 lbs.
That’s a kit. Dad is much, much larger! Think labrador
