The Mighty Castor - part I

Castor canadensis that is.  
The North American Beaver to most of us.

Yes, this is the North America's largest rodent, smaller only to the famous capybara, Hydrochoerus hydrochaeris of South America and a tiny bit smaller than its Eurasian cousin Castor fiber.

This is the North American icon that, thanks to fur trade, has, not so long ago, been nearly wiped out.  

Can you imagine? What would Canada do without its national symbol? 


Thankfully the hard working, environmentally minded vegan has come back from the brink of extinction to, once again, build its dams and increase biodiversity everywhere it settles. 

It came back to selflessly slap the waters with its fatty paddle-shaped tail to warn everyone, furred, feathered or biped,  of a possible danger lurking about the dam. 
Everyone understands the meaning of Castor's hefty slap.

Those familiar with Grey Owl might get a drift that I am re-reading the book of his stories; for the third time. He was the one who, through his writing, brought attention to the near disappearance of the North American icon.
Each time I read his books I learn something else from the author who died just before the dawn of WW II. His stories written in 1933 speak volumes about Nature and about the nature of man. 
That's what prompted me to gather and post the photos I've been collecting for many years ....

I hardly know of a better type of relaxation than being out on a quiet lake or river when the sun sets and the world calms down. Stretched back in a kayak or a canoe and watching Nature as it follows its daily routine. 

Many, after a long day's hard work, are preparing for bed. Others are waking up and gearing for the dark night's shift. Beaver belong to the latter - they exit their lodges some twenty minutes after the last rays disappear beyond horizont . 

Gentle streams of bubbles can give them away as they exit their dwellings.

Swimming quite far away they will emerge to check things out.

If they discover a stranger in their neighbourhood they will swim closer zig-zagging back and forth in long and shallow curves, sniffing the air and watching for a sign of movement. 

Sometimes they will make a noiseless dive just to reappear somewhere else, maybe at a side of the boat or behind it, just floating on the surface as if they were a piece of dead driftwood. 

What a good exercise in patience, both the animal's, and the intruder's alike!

But a tiny movement or careless noise, ever so slight, will send the beaver into its famous slap mode. 

Boooom .... "....and everybody knows..." 

Beaver are made to swim! Their hind feet are webbed and propel the animal their tail serves as a rudder.

They are also made to work and they are amazingly ambidextrous.

Their front extremities function very much like our hands - if not better.  They can manipulate objects with finesse and it seems that they also use them for connecting with others, in a caring and caressing way.

They have very good senses of smell, hearing and eyesight. 

And when they dive they can close their nostrils and ears with special valves and they protect their eyes with an extra translucent eyelid-like membrane. 
It has a nasty latin name: nictitating membrane (meaning "blinking membrane).

Reading the Grey Owls's stories I was amazed to find out that the beavers did not like loud noises. He claimed that in a bustling city environment  his tame beavers closed their ear valves in order to shut off the traffic noise. 
What an appealing feature!

I have seen some amazing beaver photos; they show perfectly the entire face and body and include the famous tail. Well. It became clear that I am not one of those skilled nature photographers; for as hard as I try I have never managed a better photo of the beaver paddle-slapper than this. 

I am not sure how they manage to hide such a large body appendix but they always seem to either sit on it or fold it underneath the body - at least when I am around!

So when they ask me "Is this the best you can do?" the answer is "Yes!" Too bad. Rest assured that as soon as I get a great image of a beaver's tail I shall plaster it right underneath this one to brag and brag and brag. 

Until then ..... let them just use it as the fat reserve, balance tool, rudder and the world-renowned  warning device. 

Grooming is a very important part of  beaver's life. They spend hours carefully combing their fur and waterproofing it with oily substance produced by special oil glands.     

The oil is called .. castoreum. Surprised?

That, and a layer of fat should keep the beaver warm while swimming.

Castoreum has pleasant smell and, after mixing it with urine, the beaver use it to mark their territory

Now, just a question: would you dare to guess if people happen to have absolute and lifesaving need  for castoreum? According to the following .....

We have to gather castoreum in order to add it to perfumes (so next time you dab that perfume behind your ear or pour it all over, think about this).

We absolutely have to have it as a food additive and flavouring -  such as raspberry or strawberry (huh?) where it is labeled as "natural flavouring" (so next time you have your strawberry something think about this.) 

We also must have it to flavour cigarettes and we need it to make schnapps.  

And, we cannot be without it in medicine too; to treat headaches and hysteria. Thankfully that one seems to be a thing of the past. 

I am becoming hysterical just reading about this. That I did not learn from Grey Owl, that has been published  here ....     

So - back to grooming: 

With my kayak firmly wedged between stones and branches I watched this youngster to perform his grooming duties for quite a long time when a parent swam by - settled on a large stone just a few meters away and, unperturbed by my presence, followed the youngster's  suit.

Just then a speed boat roared by; sending high and powerful waves towards the shore. They nearly upset my kayak setting it free of its anchor and into a long and wild bobbing session. Nobody heard what I said and I am ashamed to repeat it. 

This was a small family of only 2 - somehow the number too low for a beaver family of August. There are usually Mom and Dad (mate for life) and two to six beaver kits born in late spring. So where was the rest of them?

It wasn't right away but on a later visit I discovered the explanation. 

By the size of the skeleton I guessed that it was the female (the beaver females are much larger than the males) who had been killed that year - by whom I do not know. Could be a cougar or a bear but by the hole in a skull it looks more like human works to me.
 A gun "hero" or a careless boat? 
The guess is not mine. 




Trapping and killing of the large females during the fur trade was the main cause of bringing the species to the brink of extinction. It is quite possible that this one was still nursing just before she was killed.

The orange incisors are self-sharpening and keep on growing non-stop. Beaver must use them so they do not overgrow - they have a tendency to grow in a circular fashion - therefore could damage beaver's skull.

I visited the two surviving beavers many times that season. They seemed not to mind.

They had their home on Kootenay River and instead of building a large lodge they dug it inside the river bank underneath an old alder tree. The bank rises high up and they had enough grasses and branches to collect there. Somehow their grass-cutting made the grasses grow denser, stronger and taller. 
It may well be that they are better gardeners than you and I.  

The beaver then could go on their branch collecting crusades; hidden and protected by a thick cover of lush greens. 
At the end of the summer there were well worn tunnels in that grass, all leading up to the woods of mixed aspen, poplar and birch.

Every day after sunset and all night long they would repeatedly climb the steep bank and return with armfuls of twigs.

 And all one could see in the falling twilight would be tall grasses swaying to and fro in the otherwise still environment.

Upon their return each time they would settle by the river and dip their bounty in the water then deftly grab a twig and turning and washing and turning again they would proceed to chop it with their huge, ever growing incisors. 

It would all look and sound like an efficient food processor at work. And it would take just as little time before the twig was gone.

Hunched amongst the stones they always looked like large, dark  boulders and, many a time, I carelessly paddled too close to a feeding animal before a mad dash and a wild slap let me know of my mistake.

These were the beaver of Kootenay River but there are many more about - in lakes and swamps and other rivers where, just like us, they utilize their environment to build their lodges and homes.