I finally made it out to the pond this week. The beaver (we think it may be one of the offspring from the beavers in the lake down the road, hopefully building his dam and house in case an attractive honey comes around) has been hard at work.
There are trees galore carefully cut to fall into the pond where their branches make underwater feeding possible. The dam is secure, the cozy lodge tucked into the far bank of the pond.
All winter he has been munching away under the ice, leaving piles of bone-colored remains to mark his winter meals. He has also left hundreds of tell-tale frozen air bubbles dotting the edges of the pond. He’s here, all right.
When the weather cooperates, he climbs out to chip away at the trees surrounding the pond. The eager piece of work above is on a black birch that is about forty feet tall and nearly a foot in diameter. No one can say this little guy isn’t confident.
We didn’t see him on Sunday, but it’s good to know he’s still around. I hope a potential sweetie comes along soon. I’d like him to know all this hard work has been worth it.