Friday, November 4, 2016

more beavered stumps

I don't know why these beavered stumps intrigue me so.

My friend informed me of the beavers' activity in the riverbanks close to our house ... close enough for an adventure with grandchildren.  So on Wednesday, off we went to find the place where the beavers were working.  And find it, we did.  Newly chewed wood shining white in the browning November.  My old stroller however, was not built for steep beaver trails and after following Logan up one such trail, Evelyn set up a lively and convincing protest.  So home we went.




Thursday morning I set out again, and found more and different stumps ... and after only a few pictures, the battery on Randy's camera died. So I walked and wandered and poked around a bit more before heading home for the other parts of my day.  Figured out how to change and charge batteries.

Thursday evening, I headed out for the third time.  The sun was already going down by the time I headed for the river.  I decided I'd go to the same spot on the river and walk the same circuit. See what had changed.  It would be fun to catch them in the act.  The white spikes stood out in the darkening evening, but I eventually ran out of light.  Those were some of the pictures I posted this morning.

I went out again today.  One long branch that yesterday had been abandoned in the middle of the trail was gone. I found a grove closer to the river that almost looked like a logging camp.  Wood chips everywhere, grass trampled down as the logs had been taken to the river bank and pushed over the edge.   Many sizes and shapes and colors of stumps and chips. There were trees that were hung up and abandoned in the underbrush.  There were trees that were only partially gnawed off.

Only after seeing the new trees down did I really see the trees that someone had carefully wrapped with chicken wire.  Effective for many of the trees.  But there were some old stumps where the beavers had pushed the chicken wire out of the way... or bitten through? and taken them down anyway.  Some trees had a sturdy chain link fence wrapped around them.

Further down the path were wide trunks that just kept trying to grow a tree, despite the many spears that had been gnawed off over the years.  And the forest of poplar saplings that are mown down by a beaver's schedule almost as regular as the grass in Meewasin, only with longer gaps in between.  The saplings keep springing up and the beavers keep building warm lodges for the winter.

Today's walk showed me the colors and textures left
when the summer green and fall gold have fallen away.
Bones of redemption hidden beneath the canopy of beauty.

Yesterday I was just struck by the silent white spears.

trying to find words for prayers

for the pain that we carry
for the hope that we see

I'll walk beside this river, and spend a lifetime learning how to pray

































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