The Beaver Saga continues. I tried and tried to simply talk to them and beg them to quietly move downstream to the golf course. Their answer was pretty simple, “What, and give up the peace and quiet of your perfect backyard?” With an alarmingly loud slap of his tail he dove and hid out for a couple of days. Of course he returned at night to cut the brush and rebuild the dam.
Hubs went to remove the dam again, I tried again to persuade him that while his dam work was magnificent, flooding the lower level of the back yard was not cool. Not cool at all. Did he listen? No he did not listen.
In fact in the morning the dam was back. Hubs began his morning ritual of removing the dam. I wasn’t sure where Mr. Beaver was, but I figured in the calm quiet of the morning he would be able to hear me wherever he was. I tried talking some sense into the beaver.
“But the golf course is so large, it is so pretty,” I tried my best to convince him to move.
“You move to the golf course if you think it’s so great; sprinklers all night; mowers and weed eaters, golf carts and golfers roaming around and yelling, ‘Fore’ all day. Bwahahaha,” was the last I heard as he waddled through the cattails to the water and dove. He was probably going back to his den to nap away the day.
He was toying with us, because the next morning our yard had shrunk and the pond had enlarged, the dam was back. Trees were being felled into the pond, the leaves eaten for dinner and my beautiful waterlilies were being eaten for desert.
The beaver has to go. But Fish and Wildlife laughed out our pleading call. “Tag you’re it,” was their reply, “We don’t take care of that. Dispose of him yourself, just don’t fire a gun in the city limits. Your yard. Your problem. “
Bwahaaa,” click. Buzzzzzz.
A trap was ordered. Next Post: Part III