In Beaver World

by Enos A. Mills

Year after year the regularly equipped trappers passed the lake without stopping. The houses did not show distinctly from the trail, and the trappers did not know that there were beaver in this place. But this peaceful, populous lake was not forever to remain immune from the wiles of man, and one day it was planted with that barbaric, cruel torture-machine, the steel trap.

A cultured consumptive, who had returned temporarily to nature, was boarding at a ranch house several miles away. While out riding he discovered the colony and at once resolved to depopulate it. The beaver ignored his array of traps until he enlisted the services of an old trapper, whose skill sent most of the beaver to their death before the sepia-colored catkins appeared upon the aspens. Flat-top escaped.

The ruinous raid of the trappers was followed by a dry season, and during the drouth a rancher down the mountain came up prospecting for water. He cut a ditch in the outlet ridge of the lake, and out gushed the water. He started home in a cheerful mood, but long before he arrived, the “first engineers” had blocked his ditch. During the next few days and nights the rancher made many trips from his house to the lake, and when he was not in the ditch, swearing, and opening it, the beaver were in it shutting off the water.

From time to time I dropped around to see the struggle, one day coming upon the scene while the beaver were completing a blockade. For a time the beaver hesitated; then they partly resumed operations and carried material to the spot, but without showing themselves entirely above water. When it appeared that they must have enough to complete the blockade, I advanced a trifle nearer so as to have a good view while they placed the accumulated material. For a time not a beaver showed himself. By and by an aged one climbed out of the water, pretending not to notice me, and deliberately piled things right and left until he had completed the ditch-damming to his satisfaction. This act was audacious and truly heroic. The hero was Flat-top.

In this contest with the rancher, the beaver persisted and worked so effectively that they at last won and saved their homes, in the face of what appeared to be an unconquerable opposition.

A little while after this incident, a home-seeker came along, and, liking the place, built a cabin in a clump of pines close to the southern shore. Though he was a gray old man without a family, I imagined he would exterminate the beaver and looked upon him with a lack of neighborly feeling.

Several months went by, and I had failed to call upon him, but one day while passing I heard him order a trapper off the place. This order was accompanied by so strong a declaration of principles—together with a humane plea for the life of every wild animal—that I made haste to call that evening.

One afternoon in a pine thicket, close to the lake-shore, I came upon two gray wolves, both devouring beaver, which had met their death while harvesting aspens for winter. The following spring I had a more delightful glimpse of life in the wilds. Within fifty feet of the lake-shore stood a large pine stump that rose about ten feet from the ground. Feeling that I should escape notice if I sat still on the top, I climbed up. Though it was mid-forenoon, the beaver came out of the lake and wandered about nibbling here and there at the few green plants of early spring. They did not detect me. They actually appeared to enjoy themselves. This is the only time that I ever saw a beaver fully at ease and apparently happy on land. In the midst of their pleasures, a flock of mountain sheep came along and mingled with them. The beaver paused and stared; now and then a sheep would momentarily stare at a beaver, or sniff the air as though he did not quite like beaver odor. In less than a minute the flock moved on, but just as they started, a beaver passed in front of the lead ram, who made a playful pretense of a butt at him; to this the beaver paid not the slightest heed.

During the homesteader’s second summer he concluded to raise the outlet ridge, deepen the water, and make a fish pond of the lake. Being poor, he worked alone with wheelbarrow and shovel. The beaver evidently watched the progress of the work, and each morning their fresh footprints showed in the newly piled earth. Shortly before the dam was completed, the homesteader was called away for a few days, and on his return he was astonished to find that the beaver had completed his dam! The part made by the beaver suited him as to height and length, so he covered it over with earth and allowed it to remain. His work in turn was inspected and apparently approved by the beaver.