Or Should I Say, Beaver Damns?

All right, all right, before you think I’ve gone all light in the loafers, I’m really talking about the kind with the flat tails and big teeth. (Please don’t ask, “Why – is there any other kind?”)

I live in northwest New Jersey where there really are mountains, lakes, rivers, and streams. It’s pretty beautiful up here. And along with the beauties of nature – comes the inhabitants of nature. The spread of black bear has become a nuisance as the big smelly sons of bitches drag our garbage cans into the street and enjoy a buffet breakfast fit for – well, fit for a goddamned bear, I guess. A couple of weeks ago, a 600-pound mutha dragged my neighbors can into my back yard and sat besides my steps, enjoying his epicurean delights. It was kind of surreal looking out the back door while the hairy-ass intruder sat, quite docile while licking the wrappers from a few Sub Way heroes. I knocked on the window hard to scare him away, but he just looked back with a kind of a f@#k off attitude, and kept munching. Later when he left, I had the joy of picking up what he didn’t eat, including about 12 loaded baby diapers and several gruesome tampons. I was pretty pissed so I stuffed the remnants into my neighbor’s mailbox.

People think all of New Jersey is either the refineries around Newark airport, or the opening credits of the Sopranos. Not so, you uninformed goons – we have hundreds of miles of ocean and white sandy beaches, and thousands of acres of woods, forest, and mountains. We also have even more critters in my area, including wild turkey, fox, coyotes, and bobcats. It’s bizarre when you see them in person, that’s for sure. But there’s one animal you just wouldn’t expect, your flat tailed, bucktoothed, garden-variety beaver.

I have a small stream about 50 feet from the side of my house. On the other side of the stream are acres of wetland. Well, about ten days ago the stream started getting wider and wider. As of yesterday, the entire wetlands were filled and it looked like a lake as the water was now about ten feet from my yard. Something had to be clogging up the stream. It was “something” all right.

My friend Scott is a cop and lives up the end of the street. I called him to take a look behind his house and he said he was pretty sure it was the handy work of the local woodlands creatures. So we both put on our boots, grabbed our shovels and trekked back into the woods – and god dayum, did we find and amazing discovery. The beavers had built an amazing dam about six feet high and 20 feet wide. I have NEVER seen anything like it. It looked like a few heavy-duty Caterpillar excavators and backhoes put the thing together. Huge logs and branches the size of baseball bats were piled high, packed with mud and grass. We stood in a pool six inches deep before it as only trickles of water ran through. It’s almost inconceivable that animals could be so industrious – and so damned strong at that matter.

So we started to plug away, pulling out one log, one branch at a time. It was like trying to tear apart a cement structure. I went around to the top on the opposite side, standing in two feet of water and wailing away in the center with my shovel as my friend stood below, tearing back the pieces I dislodged. All the while I was thinking, the little bastids are gonna be pissed when they see that we trashed their hangout. Scott said that they’re probably inside as they swim under water, then stay in the hollow dry part. Then I noticed he was wearing his gun and I asked “what the hell?” He said if one of them sticks their heads out, he’ll blow the hairy little f@#kers head off. Holy Christ, that would be a sight. I said for him to make sure that it was a beaver and not a hairy Polack.

Finally we made a huge crack in the center and when Scott pealed back a clump of wood and mud, the water burst through like Niagara Falls! Scott was now in water up to his chest, that’s how fast and hard the stream filled up. It was an amazing sight to behold. He said that we HAD TO tear the thing down completely because they will build it right back up again over night. Usually I like a wet and determined hairy little beaver – but not this time around. (What – you thought I’d go the entire blog without making a crude sexual reference?) As I worked the top I took one step to my right and plunged in the water up to my rib cage. It was kind of startling, but then I instantly realized my cell phone was in my pocket, fried, of course. God dammit – I asked Scott if we see one if I could take a few shots, too.

Well, it took a few hours, but we were a couple of successful home wreckers. We succeeded in tearing down that damned damn, dammit. I felt like such a friggin man that I went home, cracked open a beer, tossed my wife on the couch for an unexpected mid-day romp, and then turned on the football game. And if anybody wants to feel my muscles, they’re there, baby – sore as all hell, but they are there!

Now I’ve gotta go see if the little f’ers built it back up. Wish me luck.

Have a Beaver filled Columbus day,

Tommy Z.

JR Cigars Blog With the Zman.