Some of them dug mud out of the bottom of the creek.
Others cut sticks from bushes and trees with their big chisel-edged teeth. By biting out chips, one by one, a beaver can easily cut down a large tree.
The mud and sticks for their house and dam they carried against their breasts as they swam, holding them there with their forefeet. Then they would put the sticks in place and press the mud down.
Their tails they used only for swimming. But, then, those big, strong tails make fine propellers.
“You are building a very large house, it seems to me,” remarked Father Thrift.
“Yes,” replied Mr. Beaver. “But you must remember that several families of beavers live in the different rooms of this house.”
“Just so, just so,” said the queer little old man. “I suppose that you find your house comfortable. But isn’t it rather damp?”
“In some parts, yes,” admitted Mr. Beaver. “But in the center of our house we have rooms above the water.
“Of course, as you know, we cannot climb trees like a squirrel. Neither can we burrow like a cottontail rabbit. But in deep water we are safe.