Cache of sticks and a tail that’s thick

One fall a young beaver, probably a two-year-old kicked out by its parents, built a small lodge in the old mill pond below our house. On cold January days when temperatures were below zero, I looked at the snow-covered lodge and wondered if the beaver was still alive. But when the ice melted in late March, it was swimming around again.

First of all, beavers don’t get kicked out by their parents. (Your parents may very well have kicked you out, but beavers don’t) That’s the kind of ignorant myth that gets repeated at the very worst scout hikes. Second of all, that headline is the kind of rhyme attempt I HATE. (Like Clicket or Ticket.) Unless you’re writing for preschoolers or alzheimer patients thick and sticks don’t rhyme any more than moon and moo do. Besides, this is a news headline, not a nursery story. So just cut it out.

Third, and this is my real point, I’m starting to get good and sick of these winter stories about beavers living in frozen streams and surviving off a food cache. We KNOW already. Stop using column spaces to print pictures like this!

View inside a beaver lodge in winter.
(Photo: Adelaide Tyrol illustration)

You think I exaggerate?

Beavers in winter

Beavers seldom venture into the open air outside the lodge in winter, when ice covers their ponds, so for months a family of beavers breathes “indoor” air, using oxygen and generating carbon dioxide. Beaver lodges have underwater entrances, and mud seals the walls, so air exchange is effected through a ventilation hole in the roof. Apparently this roof vent is sufficient to keep carbon dioxide from building up and allow an influx of oxygen, because when researchers measured the levels of those gases inside an occupied lodge, they stayed nearly constant.

How about this story from Malibu recently?

Furry Woodsmen Excel At Forestry

Among their remarkable traits is the flat, hairless paddle-like tail that allows beavers to prop themselves up while standing and whack the water in a highly effective, loud warning mechanism. Their dense undercoat of fur provides excellent insulation in water. Their lips close behind the huge, ever-growing front teeth for underwater chewing. They have self-stopping ears and nostrils for diving and large back feet with webbed toes, making them powerful swimmers. Two serrated claws on each hind foot are used for combing water repellant oil through their coat. Small, agile front fingers allow delicate handling of tiny objects.

Don’t get me wrong. I like for people to talk about beavers. I do it every day. We all should. But these articles advance the conversation not at all. These stories take up space and later when someone wants to write about real issues like beavers and salmon, or frogs, or drought the managing editor will say, nooo we can’t run another beaver story. We did that one in December.

So just stop it. Think of your mother’s advice. And if you can’t say something important about beavers, don’t say anything at all.