part two story & photos by matt perry

We resume our Beaver story where we left off last month.

On July 18th, it rained for the first time in ten days. Although our region had been experiencing a moderate drought, the beaver ponds did not suffer, and water levels remained high. Drought resilience is valuable service Beavers provide in an ecosystem. By maintaining water impoundments, they keep water on the land where it is available to other animals, plants, and people. Their ponds also help keep the local water table charged, which is of critical importance in times of drought. In the Amer- ican West, where severe drought is commonplace, Beavers are recognized for transforming streams and rivers into durable wetlands systems. In the Mohawk Valley, where severe droughts are rare, Beavers don’t get as much credit for water conservation, but what they do to create and restore wetlands should not be undervalued.

By the start of August, we had experienced many hot and dry days. Precipitation was lacking. However, on the night of the 4th, storms delivered some much-needed rain. Dam maintenance had fallen off everywhere in the pond system except for the dam at Julia’s Pond. With a smaller labor force at their disposal, the Beavers had to concentrate on their most important tasks. This meant that food collection and the maintenance of their main pond’s dam would take precedence over other projects.

On August 14th, I was surprised to find three Beaver kits at the pond. Two had been feeding and playing when a third one popped out of the water! It was late in the season for me to be getting my kit count straight, but I assumed it was finally correct. The Beaver kits weren’t the only triplets in the pond. They were sharing the habitat with three juvenile Green Herons.

On August 20th, there were three large Snapping Turtles at the pond. I was initially watching two partially submerged snappers slowly swim towards each other like a couple of menacing Crocodiles. I wasn’t sure if they were aiming to fight or have a romantic encounter, but at one point they stopped advancing and just floated on the water. Minutes later, a third Snapper of equal size climbed over the dam and swam over to join them. I noticed that one of the turtles was eating an apple. They weren’t so ominous after all; they just wanted some fruit.

In late August, we had a few good days of rain. As it happened, there were no issues with stream flooding. Given how low we were on rainfall, it would take a great deal of precipitation to cause a flood. The entire Beaver colony was out on the morning of the 24th. I was watching Tippy and GenLo working on the dam when it struck me how uncommon it was to see our colony’s matriarch and patriarch chipping away on a project together. Typically, it would be the patriarch and some of his young apprentices working to maintain the dam. What transpired to transform Tippy into a worker was unknown to me, but whatever the cause, her job description had changed.

In the morning on the first day of September, GenLo was with Tippy at the southeast shore of Julia’s Pond. I suspected they were starting a second lodge beneath a toppled Willow Tree. They hadn’t started making a pile of mud and branches, but they seemed to be diving down and perhaps excavating an underwater burrow. Having a second lodge in a primary pond would not be unusual and it has occurred before with this colony. While the adults were busy on one side of the pond, one of the new kits was doing some work on the dam. Young kits don’t often take on such responsibilities. More typically, when they make additions to dams, they are insignificant and they practice in the presence of a supervising sibling or parent.

The hedge of Orange Jewelweed on the dam at Julia’s pond was thick with thousands of blooms. On the water, wakes created by swimming ducks scattered the reflections of the orange flowers and the ripples shimmered with color. The lush blooms were a testament to the inadvertent horticultural skills of Beavers. Their dams and lodges are like raised garden beds. The fresh mud used for their structures makes extremely fertile ground for plants to colonize. Plant seeds, like those of Jewelweed, are present in the silty mud the Beavers use.

On the afternoon of September 12th, GenLo was on the trail when I arrived. I tried to give him a giant sweet potato. I put it next to him but for some reason he couldn’t find it. I had to give him a replacement. He took the new offering and slowly waddled back to the pond with it. I tried to retrieve the other one, but Hazelnut got to it first. It was obviously too big for him, but he managed to haul it off. Later in the afternoon, Tippy and the kits were feasting on willow leaves. All three new kits were out at the same time, and then, to my astonishment, a fourth kit appeared! This meant that Tippy had four Beaver kits this season. It sure took me a long time to get that straight.

By mid-September, the Beavers stepped up their foraging efforts to provide for their expanded family. I couldn’t yet detect the start of a food cache, but it was likely they had begun anchoring branches into the mud on the bottom of the pond, thereby building the cache from the bottom up. Meanwhile, Tippy was working on the dam, thus confirming that her recent flirtation with construction work wasn’t just a passing fancy.

On the 20th, Hazelnut did some foraging in the afternoon. I watched him head up into the field and later return with a bundle of poplar whips. He entered the pond from a logging trail attached to the southwest corner of Julia’s Pond. Nearly every time Hazelnut uses that trail, he first dredges the underwater channel that leads up to it. Dredging makes the channel deeper and better to accommodate the trees dragged back into the pond. It reminded me of several years earlier, when the dam at Morton’s Pond had ruptured, completely draining the pond. With the water gone, I could see the topography of the pond floor, and it was far from flat and featureless. It was comprised of mounds and valleys. Indeed, Beavers don’t limit themselves to making dams and lodges; they also do extensive engineering on the floor of their ponds. They dredge out networks of channels to facilitate the movement of food and building materials. As Hazelnut beavered away on his channel, one of the kits spent a few minutes observing him. He then pitched in, mimicking his older sibling’s behavior and digging with his front claws.

On October 4th, I was surprised to find a dozen Canada Geese at Julia’s Pond. They were our resident breeders that had been away from the property since their failed nesting attempts in the early summer. Rod- dy (recognized by his pale eyebrows) and his mate Lydia were among the group. Roddy almost came up to the shore for birdseed but was discouraged by Tippy who was coming to shore at the same time. He turned around and rejoined the other geese sitting on the opposite side of the pond.

By the second week of October, the foliage around the sanctuary was alive with color. The Sugar Maples and White Ashes were the show stealers, but they had some competition from a few unlikely sources. Unexpectedly colorful was a Cranberry Viburnum Bush on the dam at Julia’s Pond, which took on a vibrant shade of burgundy.

In October, the new kits received names. Inspired by apple varieties, they were called Pippin, Mitsu, Fuji, and Tosh. Pippin was the boldest of the group, not afraid to waltz out of the water and take a treat from my hand. Tosh was also fearless and behaved similarly to her brother. Fuji was more hesitant about coming on shore and taking something from a person. Mitsu was the shyest of the bunch, typically remaining far from shore, even when her siblings were queuing up. She would only take treats remotely via the end of my ski pole. The kits were seen water wrestling on a few afternoons. For Beavers, wrestling is a shoving match. Two contestants face each other; they hold their heads cheek to cheek and propel themselves forward with their back paddle feet. Whoever successfully pushes their opponent backwards the farthest is the winner.

By mid-October, Hazelnut had become a true workaholic. On the 15th, he made multiple trips into the field to get Aspen saplings. Each time he dutifully dragged them back to the pond and deposited them into the growing food cache. Sometimes he would sink the trees at the bottom of the cache, and other times he would lay them on top. Hazelnut also had become the primary lodge renovator. He was walking up the side of the lodge on his hind legs, carrying load after load of mud in his arms. It’s amazing how well Beavers can walk on their hind legs. Their large tail serves as a counterbalance and allows this bipedal gait. As it happened, Pippin had been watching his older sibling. He then began emulating him by adding his own modest contribution of mud to the lodge. Beaver kits learn what it takes to be a Beaver by observing their parents and older siblings.

On the morning of November 3rd, Tippy walked up the path and took all the branches I had assembled at the top of the trail. She was back looking for more when I arrived in midafternoon. She let me pass by her on the trail without getting apprehensive. I then stayed to watch her cut down a Pussy Willow tree. She felled it in less than a minute and then hauled it down the trail to the pond.

There was about an inch of snow on the ground on the morning of November 19th. The temperature had dropped into the low 20s and ice was covering half of Julia’s Pond. That afternoon, the kits and GenLo were doing some ice breaking. GenLo was mostly busting the ice down with his weight, while the kits used the torpedo method of ice breaking, bashing up through it from underneath with their heads. Perhaps it had something to do with the quality of ice that day, but their ice breaking sounded like grenades going off. I honestly couldn’t recall hearing such dramatic ice breaking sounds in the past. On November 21st, Julia’s Pond was completely iced over. However, the ice was quite thin, and by mid-afternoon the Beavers had already broken it up around the lodge and the food cache.

On November 26th, morning temperatures were in the mid-30s, but by midday it was warmer. Hazelnut was bringing several loads of mud onto the lodge roof in the afternoon. For some reason he was traveling to the southeast part of the pond to obtain the mud for this work. Was it a special grade of roofing mud he was getting? It seemed especially good for plastering. Perhaps by using that specific mud on the lodge he accomplished two tasks simultaneously – channel dredging and lodge winterization. Indeed, multitasking is the Beaver way. After Hazel had added a few loads of mud, he got hold of a large, peeled branch. He lugged it to the top of the lodge and carefully wove it into the roof structure. He then brought over two more loads of imported mud and used them to cement the branch in place.

On December 5th, the temperature dropped below freezing and ice covered half of Julia’s Pond. Once again, the ice was thin, and the kits relished the opportunity to break it up. By afternoon the temperature had risen into the 40s, which helped speed up the ice removal process. As for Hazelnut, he didn’t slow down on his lodge work. He toiled away at it as though he faced a deadline, and, in a real sense, he did. Once the pond was completely iced over, all work on the dam and lodge would end. Taking a break from working on the lodge, Hazelnut walked up the hedgerow trail and resumed trying to cut down the hawthorn tree. Interestingly, one of our resident deer stood quite close to where he was working. Hazelnut didn’t mind having an audience.

When not snatching the Beavers’ produce or eating the birds’ seed, the resident Muskrats at Julia’s Pond liked to sit on top of the Beavers’ food cache, nibbling on branches. Interestingly, even though the Beavers may not be protective of their food, the Muskrats are. In fact, one individual was repeatedly chasing ducks away from the apples and birdseed. When in pursuit of a duck, this female Muskrat ran on the water like a little speed boat, accelerating and paddling up a spray behind her. The ducks weren’t flying away, but they did swim quickly out of her way. The ducks were in no real jeopardy from the Muskrat. I think it was more of a game to them, illustrated by the fact that they always come right back.

A winter storm on December 15-16 dropped eight inches of heavy, wet snow. Many trees around the sanctuary were weighed down by snow load. Julia’s pond, already largely iced over, acquired a thick layer of slush. When I got there in the midafternoon of the 16th, I could see that Beavers had already broken through the ice in a few places including by the main path over the dam. It looked like the water level had dropped at least a few inches, but it was hard to tell for sure given all the snow and slush. I thought perhaps there was a dam rupture – a slow leak. However, if there was a leak, it had to be high on the dam since the water level didn’t perceptibly drop while I was there. All Beavers came out as usual that day.

Strong winds and a few inches of snow came on the 23rd and 24th. The temperature fell into the single digits, and the wind chill was below zero. The Beaver ponds were covered with thick ice. On the afternoon of the 23rd, all the Beavers had come out despite the arctic conditions. By contrast, on the 24th, only Hazelnut and the kits came out in the afternoon. On Christmas Day, only a single Beaver kit emerged from the ice hole, and soon retreated without taking any treats. Apparently, they were spending their Christmas inside the lodge this year. The branches I left around the ice hole were not taken for several days.

A warming trend occurred during the last three days of December. The snow melted, and Julia’s Pond began losing its ice cover. By the 31st, it was one-fourth open. The Beavers did not come out for a few days, but on the 29th, the kits and Hazelnut began emerging. As the ice broke up and disappeared, the Beavers started taking their treats and branches again. On the afternoon of the 30th, all the Beavers, including both parents, came out. After finishing their potatoes in the lodge, Tippy and GenLo emerged together but didn’t stay out. I wondered if the breeding season was underway for them. Typically, the Beavers’ breeding season begins in January. When it does, we usually see a change in behavior with the colony patriarch.

We ended the 2022 season with the Beaver colony consisting of seven members: Tippy and GenLo, their yearling (Hazelnut), and the four kits born in the spring.

Dublin Guitar Quartet

Friday, February 3, 7:30pm

The first classical guitar quartet entirely devoted to new music.

Tessa Lark, Violin

Friday, February 10, 7:30pm

One of the most captivating artistic voices of our time. A budding superstar in the classical realm, she is also a highly acclaimed fiddler in the tradition of her native Kentucky.

The Beavers now head into the heart of winter with a well provisioned food cache, a fully winterized lodge, and a good sturdy dam. 2023 will mark my 24th season monitoring Beavers at the Spring Farm Nature Sanctuary. What began in the summer of 1999 as a few chance encounters with a pair of homesteading Beavers blossomed into a lifetime of interspecies friendship and a profound lesson in wetland habitat restoration. I can sincerely recommend to anyone to allow Beavers land, water, and time, then watch what they do with it. You won’t be able to help being amazed and delighted by these most genial and competent aquatic engineers. •

Tickets by phone or online $20/$15/$5 General/Senior/Student

In celebration of the Kirkland Art Center’s 60th anniversary, it has launched its first capital campaign in 30 years. The campaign will address two top priorities:

1. Make urgently needed renovations and repairs to the roof and windows.

2. Build anew culinary arts program in response to community interest.

Help preserve this cultural anchor for the Village of Clinton and Town of Kirkland. Invest in the next 60 years of exhibitions, art and dance classes, concerts, performances, and community events that help make Clinton and Kirkland a desirable place to live, work, and study.

Going out into nature in February can be challenging, but if you settle on the right mode of travel, you may discover that it’s among the most enjoyable times of the year. In my early days of winter birding, my preferred method of getting around in the snow was using snowshoes. I had was bequeathed a pair of snowshoes that looked like they were fashioned by a mountain man or by someone who re-caned wicker chairs. As it happened, once I replaced the incomprehensible bindings, the antiquated contraptions worked rather well. Although they offered no real traction on ice, the flotation they provided on deep snow was quite good and better than any modern pair of snowshoes I’ve since used.

Snowshoes work by distributing your weight over a greater surface area. Generally, the heavier you are, the larger your snowshoes should be, thereby affording you the most flotation on the snow. People were mimicking nature when they devised snowshoes. Animals like the Snowshoe Hair, the Lynx, and the Fisher, all have wide feet that enable them to move on top of the snow with relative ease. Evolving this feature has allowed them to survive in the harshest environments of the far north and mountainous regions.

Generally, when the snow is deep, snowshoe use, modern or old-style, is far better than not using them. Walking in deep snow with only boots can be extremely tiring and not conducive to a pleasant experience in nature. I’ve purchased two sets of snowshoes since that original mountain man pair, and both came with advantages and drawbacks. The modern ones were steel rimmed with plastic decks and metal crampon teeth that provided traction on ice. Indeed, you could practically walk vertically up the side of a glacier with my newest pair. Admittedly, this is not something I’m likely to attempt, but it’s better to have a product overqualified than underqualified for the job. My new pair has so many sets of metal teeth fastened to its base that I’m afraid of accidentally stepping on some unsuspecting small animal and cutting it in half. However, that is not the primary reason I neglect my snowshoes. It’s because they are cumbersome and pokey. When I’m wearing them, I can almost never forget I have them on, which is a big drawback. When I’m out in nature, I don’t want my method of transportation to eclipse my reason for being outdoors. For me, the best purpose for snowshoes is to break trails – trails that can then be used for cross-country skiing and will help animals get around in the woods.

For more than twenty years, I’ve been using cross-country skis to traverse our na- ture preserve in winter. It is by far my preferred method of traveling on snow. They work for breaking trails if the snow depth isn’t too great. Once there’s more than two feet of new snow, it becomes too cumbersome to walk with skis on, and the trails need to be broken by snowshoes. I use skis often – sometimes every day for consecutive weeks or months. If there is navigable snow, I will try to use them. Of course, my idea of navigable snow usually differs from other people’s. I will ski if there is only an inch of snow on the ground and it’s interrupted by icy spots, mud puddles, and patches of grass. The consequence of my heavy use has caused me to go through skis, bindings, and boots far faster than the average skier. I purchased my first pair of cross-country skis 23 years ago. My former partner and I were outfitted at the same time and, over the course of several years, I watched my skis get progressively more destroyed while hers remained in pristine condition. Of course, the fact that she didn’t ski more than a few times a year had much to do with it. Regardless, I went through three pairs of skis, six sets of bindings, ten pairs of ski boots, and innumerable ski poles, all while her original gear looked like it was purchased only the day before. Her ski poles would have still been good too, if I hadn’t kept borrowing them after I broke mine in half or twisted them into pretzels. I recall buying her some new poles at one point and then having to borrow those too after destroying yet another set of mine.

What I like about cross-country skis, is that they offer the most efficient and effective way to get around in winter. Sliding over snow is certainly easier than walking on it. Also, employing your arms as well as your legs to propel yourself makes for even greater proficiency of movement. Keeping warm is almost never an issue when skiing since it is an intense workout. As a matter of fact, I will have to remove layers and even take off my gloves due to overheating. The drawbacks of skiing mostly relate to the particular snow conditions that sometimes occur. With the wax-less skis that most of us use, they begin to stick on the snow when the temperature is between 27 and 32 degrees. There are waxes that can be used on “waxless” skis that alleviate this problem, but sometimes conditions change after you’re already in the field, and then you’re left to grin and bear it. Trying to walk with skis that are sticking to the snow is a miserable experience. My other complaint about skiing has to do with the ski boots. In recent years I’ve come to use skis, bindings, and even poles that are hardier and can take a lot of punishment, but that is not true of the boots. I can’t get more than two seasons out of a pair without them cracking to pieces. I usually put up with broken shoes for a season before committing to replacing them, but it is no fun to have wet and/or cold feet while skiing. If there is by chance a ski boot manufacturer reading this column, see what you can do about this problem, and I would be forever grateful. Whether you are looking for birds, identifying trees by their bark, or searching for animal tracks and signs, there is much to discover in the February woods. If the snow is deep, try using snowshoes. If you’ve mastered that, try cross-country skiing. If you make it easier for yourself to get around, you can concentrate more on the adventure and on what you can find. •