Beaver Hunt!

Sam and I went to the Watson Mill Bridge State Park yesterday. It was a very sudden decision. He and I stepped outside of our apartment and breathed in the air. God, it was beautiful!
So we packed some water and some sandwiches and we left.

Other families and couples were taking advantage of the good weather too. When we got to the falls, I went about looking for frogs. I had the idea in my head that I should fulfill some old childhood stereotype that Southern children walk around barefoot and go frog huntin.'  Well, I didn't find any frogs. There wouldn't be any in the rapids part anyway; I think I just wanted to hop around from flat rock to flat rock.

You see, I've been awfully depressed lately. I've been trying hard to keep my mind off of things; mostly financial. It's what really gets me down. Maybe pretending to be twelve again helps, maybe not.

Sam and I did an about-face and went to the other side of the Bridge; the part where it was just endless calm and murk.

Ah yes. Good place for frogs.
Ribbit.
Ribbit.

I quickly forgot about frogs when Sam pointed out in the middle of the swampy and murky and muddy area before us that there might be a beaver dam up ahead. We saw a little mound made of sticks and mud and knick-knacks.

Onward! Towards the beaver house!

Sam said, "If we get close enough and worry it, it will come out and start smacking its tail on the ground, warning the other beavers that something is coming and its time to hide."

Ooo! How exciting!
Onward!  Towards the beaver house!

On the way, Sam and I sank ankle deep in goop and slime. I found a beaver staff; a large stick stripped of its bark with the beaver's trademark teeth marks all over. It became my walking stick, and yes, I brought it home with me.

Well, turns out our little beaver dam that we thought was actually not a beaver dam. Just a large pile of mud and sticks. But that did not deter us; we found beaver evidence--my beaver staff!

We waded through some more mud until we got to dryer ground. From there, I spotted a tree that had been interesting shaved of bark in some parts; all parts low to the ground.

"Look," Sam said, "a beaver has been here recently. The bark is still green; there are ants crawling all over it." There were teeth marks all over it and shavings of bark littered at the trees roots.

We kept on hiking. Sam found his on long and thin beaver stick; we called it a beaver spear. The further we went along the river, we found more and more beaver evidence.

But at some point, the land wouldn't really let us follow the river. Everything got really muddy and mucky again. We had to turn around; I wanted to rent a canoe but we weren't sure where to rent from.

No beaver this time.

But next time... oh, beavers, just you wait!!!