Beyond and back: the resilient beaver
- John Lorson: The Rail Trail Naturalist
- December 21, 2019
- 1016
When you travel the same route pretty much every day for years, you tend to notice changes. If you travel at the speed of a bicycle rather than an automobile, you’ll likely notice even more.
There are fewer distractions behind a handlebar than behind the steering wheel of a car: no radio, no windshield wipers, no blinkers, no gas gauge. It’s just you and the bike. If you don’t notice things, then you’re simply not paying attention — and you’re missing half the fun.
For instance, the other day I found a certain creature had been working some serious overtime in a little area along the Holmes County Trail just north of the bridge over Martin’s Creek. What first caught my eye was the unobstructed view of a certain young sycamore tree in the middle of a marshy area to the west of the trail.
I’d spent a good quarter-hour one morning earlier this fall trying to get a clean shot at that tree with my camera, but I finally gave up as a pair of thriving young cottonwood trees had done everything they could to get in my way. Now the only thing that stood between me and the picturesque scene was 100 yards of morning mist.
First thinking that a big blow may have come through and knocked things around a bit, I chalked it up to dumb luck and pulled out my camera. That’s when I noticed the two large patches of white contrasting against the brown leaf-covered ground halfway between my subject and my camera.
Closer examination revealed those “patches” to be a pair of 10-inch-diameter tree stumps each ringed by a substantial pile of fresh wood chips. The team of beavers on this job should have worn hardhats because this was some truly heavy demolition work.
Beaver is a “born again” species for Ohio. Once one of the most numerous and widespread species in North America with numbers estimated at about 60 million in pre-Columbian times, beavers were literally everywhere — at least everywhere there was water. When Ohio became a state in 1803, beavers could still be found all throughout the region although the population was in steep decline. By 1830 over-harvesting to meet the demand for beaver top hats that were all the rage in 19th-century fashion had cleansed Ohio of every single beaver.
A species that is eliminated from a region in which it was historically found is said to be extirpated as opposed to the permanent condition of extinction, which means that a species has been eliminated worldwide.
The beavers took their extirpation seriously. Not only had they been relentlessly pursued for their fur, their habitat was systematically destroyed by an influx of settlers who drained wetlands, cut down forests and breeched the dams that pooled waters into flat lowland areas deemed perfect for agriculture. While the trapping pressure subsided with changes in fashion and hat-making technology, beaver habitat had taken a hit that would take much longer to recover than the species itself.
It was over 100 years before beavers were once again documented to be living in Ohio when a small colony was discovered in Ashtabula County in 1936. An aerial survey of the species counted 25,000 by the mid-1990s with population growing at a rate of 35 percent a year.
Beavers are one of the few animals other than man that can alter the landscape in a significant way to suit their needs. By instinct rather than engineering prowess, they dam small streams and the outlets of wetland areas. Then by pooling water deep near their living quarters — a large mound of interwoven branches called a lodge — the beaver can enter and exit the lodge underwater and out of sight and sound of predators. Ample underwater travel lanes become especially important during the winter when surface water freezes over and the beavers need move between food caches and their home lodge.
When a beaver takes down a tree like the pair of 40-foot-tall cottonwoods I wrote about earlier, it's doing it for both food and building materials. The bark on the upper reaches of the tree makes a tasty meal, the tender terminal branches can be clipped and cached underwater for food during extreme ice-over conditions, and the wrist-sized branches near the trunk are perfect for construction of both dam and lodge.
An animal with a 10,000-year history in our state deserves more attention than one quick column. We’ll talk more about the beaver, its life and habits (both good and bad) next week.
Remember, if you have questions or comments, email the Rail Trail Naturalist at jlorson@alonovus.com.