Last night Liam and I took the kayaks to the Reservoir for an evening paddle. We arrived about 8 PM and it was still quite light. A father and a little boy floated lazily in an inflatabe boat, fishing line extended into the water. Two skinny shirtless pre-teens were casting lines from the dock. It is rare these days that I arrive at the reservoir and find it empty of people. We launched our boats and paddled toward the quieter north end. Small bass and bluegill were visible in the shallows along the shoreline. It hasn't rained in quite awhile, so the visibility was high. I scooped up a few old beer bottles resting in the mud in the shallows. We heard a fairly loud splash, and I thought it must be one of the large grass carp who idle around the north end. Still, it seemed a sound too energetic for these slothful ones, who generally only demonstrate any energy when startled by a floating kayak overhead. A young couple arrived, holding hands and laughing, and headed out around the trail. Just as they appeared on the west bridge, another loud splash sound occurred. The startled young woman asked her boyfriend "What was that!" "Someone threw a rock." Was his reply. "No, I think it was a grass carp," I replied from the water, "there are some big ones out here." But I was having my doubts. Liam was across the lake, nearer to the splash. "That wasn't a beaver tail slap, was it?" I asked him. "Yeah Dad, I think it was. I was following his head across the water, and then he splashed and disappeared.
Could the beaver really be back? And was this a good thing or a bad thing? Seven years ago, a family of very industrious beavers appeared at the reservoir and in short order began down taking down some sizeable hardwoods. The village finally decided to hire someone to trap them. The signs of their presence are still visible. The gnaw marks around girdled dead trees. The numerous deadfalls extending from shore into the water, the distinctive beaver-chewed stumps that appear along the trailside, and a large pile of smaller sticks and branches that guarded the mouth of their lodge. Their presence was not entirely destructive. The trees they felled into the water have provided protection of fish and easily accessible sunning spots for the turtle population, which has exploded in recent years.
Liam and I paddled past the old beaver lodge, which had dwindled away over the years. But it appeared to be more substantial again, and amidst the many branches were the beavers' marks had long since blackened, there appeared to be several freshly cut or gnawed branches. Were these simply discards cut and torn with my rusty old loppers and tossed toward the water by someone on the trail clearing team, or were they the work of a beaver? We paddled to the north end, turned our boats around, and floated silently, watching the surface of the water, as twilight approached. A three-quarters-full moon kept it light well past 9 oclock. As we watched and waited the chorus of birds and frogs grew louder, and the distant sounds of the interstate were drowned out. It was such a great experience waiting, listening and watching, that I wasn't really sure I WANTED to spot a beaver. I liked the idea of the possibility of a beaver--the unconfirmed rumor of a beaver--more than the certainty of one. Just as surely as the POSSIBILITY of an Ivory-Billed Woodpecker in the swamps of eastern Arkansas has more allure than irrefutable photographic evidence of one would ever have, the idea that MAYBE the beaver had returned to the Reservoir had great appeal. Plus, there was the problem. If I KNEW there was a beaver, would I have to tell Village manager John Huey, so that they might hire someone to trap this one? There have been so many other signs of increasing wildlife diversity at the reservoir in the last seven years--the arrival of Kingfishers and Green Heron, the explosion in the number and variety of turtle species--it was nice to see the return of the beaver, perhaps the only creature besides man who consciously works to alter its environment to suit its needs.
Forty five minutes of watching, waiting and listening produced no new sightings, and no more loud splashes. Liam paddled south toward the docks, and I lingered a little longer, thinking his movement might startle a beaver we just couldn't see. Half way back to the dock, I spotted him. I followed silently until the alarmed beaver let go with the tell-tale slap of the tale before diving under water. From the size of his head and tail, it appears to be a very young one. Perhaps a male who recently arrived cross-country from a too-crowded beaver pond nearby, ready to start a new home and family. Liam had indeed spotted the first returning beaver in seven years! We paddled back to the dock and loaded up the boats. The skinny boys playing on the dock were eager to show us the tiny snapping turtle they caught on their line.
I returned for an early morning paddle to see if I could spot him again, and did. I brought the digital camera, but it is acting up, and I need to get a new one. I think I'll keep the beaver's presence quiet for awhile. The turtles could use a few more perching logs.
As many folks have reminded me, there was much silence on the blog for the last month. That is not the result of lack of interest or lack of time spent at the Reservoir, but just plain old busy-ness. Add to that a broken digital camera, and several weeks spent away from New Concord, and what you get is a missing month. I did managed to get a few pictures from the late May nature walk hosted by Biologists Dr. Danny Ingold and Robin Densmore. Above is a picture of a water snake we found sunning itself on the old east bridge. Below is a more remarkable sight--an Eastern Painted Turtle discovered in the middle of egg-laying. The turtes come ten yards or so up from the water , dig a hole, and lay their eggs. If you see disturbed mounds of earth not far from the water in mid- to late spring, be careful not to tromp on them. Many of these eggs are uncovered by raccoon and other varmints before they ever hatch. But given the explosion in the population of Eastern Painted Turtles in the Reservoir in the last few years, many are managing to hatch and make it safely back to the water.
