A Ballad for Beavers
Builders of Worlds
It must be hard being a beaver in the big city.
When I was young I thought beavers belonged to the world of marshes and moose and the kind of multi-day canoe trips my family didn't take. Sometime in my adulthood I finally learned that the large rodents are a lot more versatile than that, and I now live in a part of Toronto where the nearest beaver lodge is a shorter walk than the local grocery store.
But like all urban animals, our local beavers clearly have to deal with some annoyances they wouldn't face in the wilderness. Steve and I watched the other day as two swam back and forth in Lake Ontario, maneuvering around the docked boats full of weekend partiers and under the lines of people who were fishing from shore. They were able to ignore the litter floating nearby, but couldn't avoid stumbling as they walked on the chunks of rock used to prevent erosion on the constructed shoreline. They even had to tolerate the attention of red-necked grebes who didn't seem to like the beavers being in the vicinity of their nest platforms (I suppose harassment from water birds may be part of life for beavers everywhere, but the lack of space for wild things to spread out still feels like an urban animal problem). Nonetheless those amazing, adaptable beavers are clearly able to not only tolerate the troubles of city living, but to successfully raise their families year after year.
No matter where they live, beavers seem to have an uncanny knack for shaping a world that works for them, and they often end up benefiting other species in the process. The poem below was inspired by the research of Dr. Emily Fairfax, who has been investigating the impact that beaver-created ponds and wetlands have on wildfires. You can read about her work on her website and follow @EmilyFairfax on Twitter. Also, here's the very cool stop-motion video she made to summarize her research:
Video via Emily Fairfax on YouTube
The Water Calls
Two figures came across the field
Who wobbled while they marched
Their paddle tails left dusty trails;
The ground they trod was parched.
Her webbed feet sore, she fell behind
But he would never leave her.
With builders hands they walked the land
That pair of doting beavers.
The water calls, the water calls
We smell it in the air
The water calls, the water calls
We'll start a new life there.
The stream they found ran cold and fast;
The trees were far away.
But with belief and chisel teeth
They changed things day by day.
They built a dam and dug the earth;
The stream spread out and stayed.
The trees and grass could drink at last
From what the beavers made.
The water calls, the water calls
New deep roots we'll grow
The water calls, the water calls
We sense it down below.
For years the beavers raised their young
All safe to dive and play
Until the morn a distant roar
Said danger's on the way.
The fire burned across the field
The sky was set aglow;
Mice and birds and white-tailed herds
Knew just one place to go.
The water calls, the water calls
Things are looking grim
The water calls, the water calls
Hide where the beavers swim.
The flames immense, the heat intense
The fire turned and churned
Though all was choked with inky smoke
The wetland didn't burn.
So when at last the fire'd passed
The animals emerged
All because of beaver love
And what the water urged:
The water calls, the water calls
It can't change course alone
So we will go and help it slow
and build us all a home.
~ by Marilyn Anne Campbell
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Links
Looking for more about beavers? Try:
A five-minute video clip on Flickr of the two beavers Steve and I watched in Lake Ontario
The 12-and-half-minute animated short DAM! The Story of Kit the Beaver on YouTube, with a soundtrack recorded by the Toronto Symphony Orchestra
The wealth of beaver facts on the Hinterland Who’s Who website.
Remember you can always click the heart to let us know which issues are your favourite, hit reply to send us feedback directly, or leave a comment on this or any issue on the website archive.
Thanks for reading,
Marilyn & Steve
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