Changing a Stream's Course

Trees around here take a beating. Here are some fresh pileated woodpecker workings. I ain't sayin' nothin' about bark adhesion or big woodpeckers. I'm just showing it to you.


With a wisdom that is theirs alone, the beavers near our home have changed the course of a stream. They diverted it from its original bed at the base of a rocky slope and have sent it running smack down the middle of a hayfield. For some reason, no one has tried to stop them by trapping them out. That's saying something in Appalachian Ohio.
We're watching and enjoying them, and I'm trying to find out a bit about the landowners, to see how long we might expect to be graced by the presence of these incredible aquatic rodents. Does the landowner dig beavers? Has she simply not gotten around to hiring someone to trap them? I don't know. I'm praying it's Option A.

There's something about a small stream that implores a child to jump over it.
Liam's got a funky style all his own, and he always makes me laugh.
Phoebe's a bit more self-conscious, but still great fun to shoot in action. She sails over the water like the Thoroughbred colt she is.
She found a gas well pipe standing in the meadow, and peered inside. "Mom! Come tell me what this STUFF is, coming out of this RANDOM PIPE." I always jump when they ask me to look at something on our walks. I want to reinforce their innate curiosity. If they get nothing else from me, please let them be curious.
She'd noticed the wasp nest, and then wondered about the other stuff. Science Chimp to the rescue. I pulled the stuff out, to peals of EEEEEYEEEW's from Phoebe and Liam. White-footed mouse mummy!
Didn't warn you. Not sorry, either. I think it's cool, especially the way his organs are still intact. Did he get stung to death by the wasps? Poisoned by a blast of raw natural gas? Dunno. But there he is. We put him back in the pipe for the next curious person who might happen along.

The new stream runs along its course, flooding the road. Surely someone's going to object.
For now, though, we'll keep watching, and rooting for the beavers. Baker adds his contribution to their stream.

The Beaver Dam

Walks with a destination: one of our favorites is a beaver dam on a county road to the east of our place. To reach it, we cross a wide, wide field. It's so nice to fall behind one's children, after so many years of patiently waiting for them to catch up. I've said elsewhere but it bears repeating: From the very start, I've told my children that I'm not strong enough to carry them. I started telling them this once they started walking on their own. I remember my first walk with little Phoebe toddling alongside. We went to the mailbox, a distance of perhaps 1/5 mile. "Boy, it's a good thing you learned how to walk like a big girl," I told her. "Because you were just about too heavy to carry any more." From that point on, she walked on her own two feet, and neither she nor Liam have ever had the option of being carried by me, unless they were hurt or asleep in the car. They take great pride in being troopers. I love to get them completely tired out.

The beaver dam is maybe a mile away, but it's fairly strenuous hiking, involving some climbs and descents. Oh, the reward once we're there! We get to see what they've done since our last visit. It's usually a considerable amount. On our first visit, this tree was almost all gnawed through. Only two days later, they'd dropped it into the pond. How I would have loved to see that! but I would imagine they fell trees at night. KerSPLASH! It would be interesting living near a beaver pond. The things you'd hear in the dark!

The beavers have cleared the blue-eyed heck out of the woods. They have rodent logging roads running up from the pond into what remains of the forest. This would probably be a good place to set a wildlife camera. Hmmmm.


Here's the main dam for the big impoundment, quite an impressive piece of work:About 50' below that is a second impoundment, contained by this dam:Below that, they've started to work on the hayfield, thinking to turn that into a long, shallow pond:I'm not sure what their plan is here, but I'm fascinated by these long, curving earthworks they're building in the low wet meadow. I can't wait to see what it all pans out into, especially as the spring rains come on.A beaver pond. What a perfect place for a boy to dream. I hope he's still coming here when he's sixteen.