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| Not in the mood for any beaver guff. |
by Maryanna Gabriel
Meanwhile, back at the refrigerator fridge filled with cheesecake, I find it fortunate they are closed due to holidays. One cannot always count on self control given I pass by every morning. The mornings are chillier with swimming at the lake and I love to go early before most are up. Well, the beaver was up.
None of this splashing about like many. I glide as quiet as can be. Glide and watch. This morning a palm frond went sailing across the water forever like a freshwater fin. I realized the beaver had just raided someone's Hosta garden planted close to the water's edge.
Then I heard a crashing. The noise was too near the lake to be deer.
I was right. With a splash, slippery dark forms slid into the lake and noticing me, glided close. Otters? No, wait a minute. Tiny rat-like heads. Were they mink? They circled underwater. I could see the bubbles rise and then I stopped looking across the surface and down to my toes and began to tread watchfully. Suddenly, I was concerned. Do mink bite? They were right under me. I held steady. They passed and emerged on the far shore next to the Hostas only to make made high-pitched squealing noises. It was a mother with her young. She was really hissing and carrying on and they were definitely mink.
The next thing I knew, a head made its way straight towards me. A bigger head. It was the beaver, and he was in full-blown huffing and puffing mode and not in the mood for any trouble. I realized he had just chased off the mink (his lodge is nearby). He was full of adrenalin and up for a fight. Just in case, I was going to give him any beaver guff, I received three loud tail slaps. Then off he charged. Clearly, I was not being invited back to the lodge for tea and open-faced Hosta sandwiches. Look, I can take a hint.