The Wily Namekagon Beaver

 

"I never tell a dirty joke - it's a cheap way to get a laugh." ~ Red Skelton

The Wily Namekagon Beaver

Gentle Readers and Loved Ones,

 Amongst my tens of readers, there is a small kernel that enthusiastically seeks opportunity to engage in the low act of punning and double entendre. With sorrow, your author must count himself amongst those sadly stricken souls. The saga I am about to recount offers ample opportunity to gratify those sinful ways.

But, before you blindly quip, I encourage you to indulge in a moment of self reflection and consider the permanence of Al Gore’s Information Superhighway. Further, please reflect on whether you wish your base word play to sully your reputation among those who do not appreciate the fine art of the pun and entendre. Thank you.

On to the story. I am here in our family cabin in Burnett County, in NW Wisconsin. Replete with many marshes, streams and lakes, aquatic fur bearing mammals abound, the majestic Beaver being chief among them. The historical re-enactment of the early 1800s Fur Trade is one of the many reasons that this writer would encourage you to visit and support the county’s Fort Folle Avoine Historical Site. We took the grand kids there last summer.

Today, Rory and I went off to stalk the wily Ruffed Grouse along the banks of the magnificent Namekagon River. There are those who claim, with a lot of truth, that the Namekagon river basin is the most secluded river in the US. I have many grouse covers scouted out along the river and seldom do I run across others there.

The little hunter walking trail I used today runs right up against the steep sandy banks of the river. Now that the foliage has fallen you can easily see the river down below. My basic grouse strategy involves me slowly walking along a trail - the better the trail, the better for me - while young athletic Rory quarters the woods and brush around the trail. Rory now knows the scent and sound of the grouse and the woodcock and does a creditable job of flushing them from their hides. Whether they fly an escape route that exposes them to my fire is always a crap shoot. But, just the sheer thrill of working as a team with a dog that I have trained is starting to be more important than actually bagging a bird. ( Yeah, I know, that's really weak.... )

I try to keep my eye on Rory for cues to maintain readiness. He suddenly disappeared to my right down the steep bank.  I quickly tried to locate so that I had the freedom to swing the gun and then looked to see where Rory had gone. I noted he had gone down the steep embankment of what I thought was a very well used deer trail and had jumped in the river. He was paddling around with that wild abandonment that only dogs living in the moment of sheer happiness can achieve. I called him up and here he comes but now he has “The Zoomies”.  He’s running wild circles around a specific location. I look closer and note that what he is circling is a tree that has been cut down very recently by a Beaver. Reassessing the situation, I realize that we are passing through an area that a wily Beaver is harvesting and that the scent of the Beaver must be replete all through the area. That is why Rory is so excited.  Further, what I thought was deer trail was actually a path beaten down by the Beaver as it hauled wood. 

I get Rory calmed down and into a sit and I took this picture. You can see the stump, the stick and the tree laying on its side. I wonder if we surprised the Beaver and drove him off. ( Please recall that you can click on these pictures to enlarge them. )

Rory, the Stump, the Stick and the Tree

This is occurring near the end of our hunt.  Rory knows we are walking out to the Truck which is about 300 yards away.  He grabs a piece of tree trunk that the beaver sectioned up and falls in love with it. 

Rory's new stick

 

He picks it up and starts carrying his "stick" out to the truck. I got my camera out and got this short video.

We walked all the way to the truck, Rory proudly parading his “stick”. He wanted to take it home with us.  No, we did not bag a bird.  Had great time though. 

On that happy note, I remain,

Dad/Geoff