Much to our delight,
just after parking the truck
at a local trailhead,
the caretaker crossed the road
to bid us hello. 

After sharing with us
his plans for an upcoming adventure,
we wished him Bon Voyage,
and started down the trail, 
giving thanks that friends
had pre-packed it 
with their snowshoes
last week 
so we only had 
to wear micro-spikes. 
(Thank you, Sue and Lee)

At last reaching one of two ponds,
around which we planned to tour, 
we chuckled at the juxtaposition
of summer and winter,
in the forms of
canoes, snow, and ice.

A few more steps,
and we weren't sure 
which season witnessed
what must have been an immense crash
as part of this old hemlock
slammed onto the ground.

Meanwhile, 
 the upper most section
of the fallen tree
was caught by friends
who are still doing their best
to hug it
and keep it 
from careening 
to the forest floor. 

And farther still, 
a bunch of 
mustard colored droppings, 
aka scat,
bespoke the past presence
of a Ruffed Grouse
who must have dined well. 

By the shape of the prints 
in front of him on the trail, 
My Guy immediately new the maker,
for one was a wee hand,
and the other a bit longer,
and both were 
offered on opposite diagonals,
as is this waddler's presentation, 
it being a Raccoon. 

When we reached the lifesaver,
we knew we were at the halfway point,
and had to decide
to continue to the next pond,
or only circle this one 
because our time was limited. 
We chose the latter,
saving the other for another day.

The trail next passed
beside a wetland, 
and in the middle
I spotted the Big House, Little House, Back House, Barn,
of a Beaver family, 
with fresh wood 
indicating someone was probably
in residence. 

Continuing on, 
it soon became apparent,
that a logging operation,
had taken place, 
but the workers 
were of the non-human sort,
for such were the toothmarks 
of said Beavers. 

We found 
example after example
of trees sawed 
with their chisel-like teeth,
and some even crossed the trail
we followed 
for our route 
was of no concern to them.

Upon reaching 
the other side
of the wetland, 
I looked at the lodge again,
and found it curious
that there was no open water, 
given that up until today's frigid temps,
we had a bit of a melt,
and surely the Beavers 
would have been 
on the move.

And then mere minutes and steps later,
because there are no leaves on the trees,
I spied across the way,
a huge new lodge
that we somehow missed
as we hiked above it
a half hour earlier. 

As I zoomed in with the camera,
what should I see, 
but a Beaver swimming 
in open water,
and my heart was still,
and I wanted to stay 
in that spot forever. 

For about ten minutes,
that Beaver and I shared the space, 
mind you from a distance. 
My Guy was just up the trail, 
and did not see what 
I was focused on. 
And this was not the time 
to shout,
"Hey look, there's a Beaver!" 
because no sooner said, 
then there would not 
be a Beaver anymore. 

Chew sticks were visible
on either side of the pool
he had created
and I suspected he was grabbing a few
from an underground "raft" 
of sticks previously stored,
or cached as we say,
and bringing them in
for the rest of the family to dine. 

I think my assumption
may have been correct, 
for when he reached 
the far end of the pool, 
he slipped quietly underwater,
rump first rising in the air,
and then whole body disappearing.

It's a funny thing
to realize
that when a Beaver 
isn't aware of my presence,
it doesn't need 
to slam its tail
and surprise me
or warn its family 
that I am there. 
Rather, it barely
leaves a ripple 
upon the water's surface. 

About five minutes later, 
the Beaver appeared again, 
and then disappeared under water
beside the lodge
and I again assumed 
I was correct
that chew sticks 
were on the menu
this night
as they are every night.

With that 
I took my leave 
from my lookout spot,
and followed My Guy 
toward the conclusion
of our journey, 
giving thanks all the way,
for the Beaver
who went about its daily duties
and let me be a witness.

As the sun 
began to set
on this day, 
January 2, 2025,
I realized that it 
shall be forever more 
the day I celebrate 
this Beaver's Tale. 
Thank you to the owners of the land, 
Mary and Larry, 
and to their caretaker Bruce, 
for conserving this place 
so all may live 
as nature intended.