Thank You, Castor Canadensis

photo courtesy of the intrepid Holly Brand

Beavers are pretty entertaining.  Ever watched a beaver go about his business?  No?  I recommend visiting Wild River State Park and hiking down to the Nevers Dam Overlook.  You can park by the camper cabins, or stay overnight in one for $50 (they sleep 6, so that's a good deal), then walk down a very long stepped path to the western shore of the Saint Croix River.  Plan on getting down there about an hour before sunset.  At the bottom of the path, veer to the left (north?) and look up river.  Scan the ice, and hopefully open water, between the shore and that island just off shore.  Do you see him?  Not yet?  Well, look for signs of his handiwork along the bank.  If he's been busy, you'll see plenty of fresh stumps, skinned sticks, dragged saplings and precariously leaning, almost gnawed through trees.  This guy can cut down a dinner plate diameter tree in 15 minutes.  Oh!  There he is!  Look, he's swimming in the open channel.  See him paddling against the current?  Now he's hauling himself carefully up on the shelf of ice.  He's such a dark satisfying blob against the winter-pink, waning light.  He's trying hard not to break that thin ice; he walks like an old lady with brittle bones until he gains purchase on the thicker stuff.  What's he doing now?  Wait, is he looking over here?  Now he's up on his hind legs-- he's so tall!  Reaching up with his little front feet--little hands--to grab that branch.  And, he's, well, he's just chowing down on  it.  I can hear him now.  

Saint Croix eddy, Trumpeter Swans just around the bend

Dodge Nature Center doesn't have any beavers.  I wish we did.  It is seriously engrossing to watch these animals.  Last weekend, my kids and I hiked up and down that steep hill, with all those thigh-burning steps over and over again, just to get a glimpse of the beaver, and his/her (?) mate at work.  They showed up every evening and didn't seem to mind us too much.  We had to be quiet and respectful.  No sudden movements, no loud noises.  And you know who got the closest to these industrious animals?  My daughter J.J.  She is a whirling dervish of energy-- an ant, a fidget, a dancer, a gymnast.  The kid doesn't sit still for much and the rest of us are usually just racing to catch up with her (all those steps really didn't take any wind out of her sails).  But J.J. became still as stone watching the beavers.  She couldn't get enough.  And little by little, without anybody, including the beavers, noticing, J.J. inched ever closer to the animals.  She watched and watched.  The sun began to set.  I watched her watch.  Her focus was singular.  Her breathing slowed, her muscles relaxed.  She had nowhere else to go, nothing else to do.  She was just alive in the moment and completely at ease in her own skin, just a few feet away from working wild animals.  I was struck by the power of the experience, her experience.  These animals, in their place, leading their lives alongside or independent of us, had the power to awaken and stimulate awareness and also to soothe, frankly, a frenetic little soul.

Children:  delightfully disorienting

Time and again, we here at Dodge give lip service to the power of spending time outside.  I seem to go on and on about this non-stop in my writing life, and of course I see the power of play and exploration outside in my daily work with young children at our Preschool, but...nothing hits home with as much power as personal experience.  I certainly know I need to spend time outside.  I know my kids do too.  Just the other day, I realized with a wince that my kids were so busy with school, homework and enriching activities that they really are not getting much vitamin D these short late fall days.  It's dark when they get on the bus.  It's dark when they finally have down time, and it is usually so late in the day that they don't go out and play.  Despite the fact that it would, and did, make our Thanksgiving weekend crazier, I vowed that our family would get outside together and head off to Wild River State Park.  I'm really, really glad we made time for time outside.  Although watching your own kids is a vicarious experience, there is something oddly more personal about it than having your very own experience.  It is hard to explain, but I've learned that parents literally live through their kids, through the ups, and the downs.  It can be disorienting to realize that you no longer really own yourself-- your kids own you in a delightful, and also truly terrifying way.  So here I am to tell you once again, get outside and slow down out there.  Dodge may not have beavers, but we have plenty of other stuff to slow down with:  deer, turkeys, ponds and creeks, snow on spruces.  You can't watch the grass grow in winter, but you can watch the snow pile up and the clouds scuttle overhead.  Dress warmly, be comfortable and find a way to just be out there.  For a few long moments, just live in someone else's moment:  a beaver's moment, a jay's moment, or a kid's moment.  Those are bigger, longer moments for sure, bigger than all the busier little parts that make up the mysterious sum that is life on this planet.

*Castor Canadensis is a truly interesting animal; get the basic facts at the MN DNR.