| Issue #2- April 6, 2007 |
Explorations
One Small Step for a Beaver, One Large Step for Beaverkind
By Dan Rattiner
The beavers have returned to Northwest Harbor in East Hampton. Nobody has actually seen them. But there is no mistaking that they are there. There are pine trees gnawed down in the classic beaver way. There are beaver lodges — collections of twigs and sticks arranged into the shape of a hollow nest, half above the water and half below, with the entrances below. There’s evidence of attempts being made to dam streams.
Environmentalists are ecstatic that the beavers are back. Until about 1950, their habitat extended from Maine and Connecticut to the shores of Long Island. But with the arrival of humans, they retreated to the north. The southern boundary of beaver habitat at the present time is the south shore of Connecticut. Beavers haven’t been here in half a century.
A second sighting of beavers —the beavers have actually been sighted and photographed — has taken place in one of the most improbable locations — in the City of New York. Beavers are in the Bronx River, the body of water separating the Bronx from Manhattan near the Triboro Bridge.
This river, formerly a polluted stream of garbage, box springs, car tires, bottles and cans, was cleaned up in an organized drive by local residents two years ago. And now there are beavers.
Government officials and environmentalists and civic-minded citizens can pat themselves on the back all they want for this, but this newspaper has exclusively learned that the beavers’ return to our community has been ordered by the chief beavers themselves.
Last fall, the great beaver clan met on the shores of the Connecticut River, just east of Nyantic, to consider organizing an exploration party.
“There are those that believe that the land way over there,” the Chief said, indicating the strip of land off on the horizon with his great paw, “is filled with fish and streams and pine trees and is bountiful and agreeable for habitation.” He held out his great paw to indicate the strip of land across the water off on the horizon he was talking about. “And there are those that say their grandfathers and great-grandfathers told them us beavers used to live there, but were driven off. Although, my grand and great-grandfather never told me that. Now, we must return to learn the truth. I call for volunteers.”
Four beavers who were among the strongest swimmers were selected. The next day, a great farewell party was held along the banks of Long Island Sound and they were cheered off into the water for the long swim south.
Four days later, the four beavers radioed back to the chief beaver sitting before his short wave radio in the grand lodge he occupied on the Connecticut River.
“There is evidence that humans have lived here before,” one of the explorers said, his voice crackling over the radio. “We see house foundations, a narrow road, some tilled fields and some rusted farm equipment. A tractor, we think. And there’s a road. It says Northwest Harbor Road. But no humans. Otherwise, it’s really nice here. A pond, trees, birds, fish, bugs.”
“Keep looking,” the Chief said. “And try to make contact. Meanwhile, find a place to build a lodge.”
“Roger, Chief.”
About a week later, a second group of four beavers were sent off from the mouth of the Connecticut River to make another landing. They got caught in a storm as they swam across the sound and were pushed westward into the Bronx River in New York City. With their last remaining strength, they swam ashore there.
“You’re not going to believe this,” said the leader explorer beaver, talking into his wrist radio, for that is what they had, a wrist shortwave radio — the waterproof kind. “But there are tall buildings and thousands of cars here. And we just swam under two enormous bridges. They are wonders of the age.”
“You’re fading in and out,” the chief beaver said.
“Listen. You’ll hear the traffic sounds. And there’s airplanes flying overhead. Lots of them.”
“Any humans?”
“Millions of them. But they won’t pay any attention to us. We slap our tails on the water. They just walk by.”
“Well, keep trying to make contact.”
A conference call was set up through the chief beaver’s lodge so the Bronx beavers could talk to the East Hampton beavers.
“We’ve got all sorts of fish,” East Hampton said. “Sweet fruit trees. Birds. Lots of insects for snacks. But there’s nobody around.”
“We’ve got lots of humans around, but nobody will talk to us,” said the Bronx. “And we’ve got very few fish, no trees and the river has a kind of metallic taste. We’ve gnawed down a wooden signpost that says TRUCKS KEEP RIGHT.”
“There doesn’t seem to be any consistency here,” the chief said. “We’ll meet and decide whether we should send more of us over, or maybe call you guys back. We’ll let you know.”
“Roger,” said East Hampton.
“Over and out,” said the Bronx.
A meeting of the great beaver clan is scheduled again next Monday on the beach at the mouth of the Connecticut River.
Meanwhile, some lady beavers in Groton are knitting two beaver flags. They are beige and in the center have the silhouette of a beaver in dark brown. They hope to get them delivered to the explorers. Maybe by pelican.
Remember, you read it first in Dan’s Papers.
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