Nature, The Sequel

So now that they took eight beavers from our pond over the winter, it appears that we have four young ones remaining, who are more active than their forebears and less shy around us. Last night our terrier, who regards any moving thing in our field as an affront to his hegemony, spotted three beavers chomping spears for their dinner at the pond's edge and took off after them. Instead of moving hurriedly into the pond, slapping the water with their tails and diving as their parents have always done, they turned and prepared to do battle. Luckily Lacey managed to call Cosmos off before he reached them because he has no idea that any animal could stand up against him.

There was actually a report last year of a woman in Vermont coming unexpectedly on a large beaver that had gnawed its way into her tralier and it bit her badly.

The game warden showed up yesterday and, under orders from the state and federal people, shot two of the adult geese. He said he had been ordered to shoot the babies, now only a few days old and the lighter colors of their downey feathers, but he said he couldn't bring himself to do that. The geese are a nuisance, make a mess, are a health threat, and are in numbers much too large for their habitat. I know it is the right thing to shoot them, but something about it doesn't sit right with me. Only one of many pieces of evidence that confirms what Vermonters call me even after being here more than two decades: flatlander.

Today I see no evidence of any wildlife, no geese, no Mallard ducks, no beavers. But they will be back. Those babies must be hidden away somewhere in the tall grass or nearby woods by their newly widowed mothers. (The game warden said he shot the biggest birds, so they would be the fathers).

The first really beautiful spring day is marked by this clash of civilizations.