Gnawed enough

Still eager, the beaver; plus Stillman's Farm

by Sally Cragin

Illustration by Lennie Peterson

Last winter, there was a week and a half of good skating on Picture Pond, and Hollis the Mountain Man strapped on his old hockey skates and circumnavigated the ice. He seldom saw the northern end of the pond, unless he was in a canoe. It's surrounded by deep, squishy swamp, thick with cattails, though there are bits of dryland between the muck.

On his skates, he could see there were unexpected clearings, and that some saplings were bowed. Was this ice? Could trees die in the dead of winter? A closer look revealed jagged stumps and a debris field of thumb-size woodchips. Who'da thunk it -- beavers back on the pond since who-knew-when?

Hollis chuckled to himself, as he skated away. There was no sign of a lodge, yet the stumps (and no saplings) indicated the beavers were dragging their quarry somewhere. Hollis had to admire the chopping, and marveled at the teeth they must have to treat a young maple as if it were a five-month-old McIntosh. Some trees were chewed halfway and then left -- abandoned for softer wood. And one scene made him laugh out loud. At the far end of the pond, a chewed sapling dangled helplessly above its stump. Seemed the beaver succeeded in cutting all the way through, yet the canopy of branches was woven into those of its neighbors.

"What do you think the beaver thought?" Delia Ellis Bell the Partial Yankee (there was a questionable great-great-grandmother) asked Hollis later.

"I think his mind was probably completely blown in that one moment -- his great skill, chewing through wood, was again successful, yet the tree levitated beyond his grasp. He probably looked for a whole moment, and then went on to the next tree."

INDEED, IF BEAVERS ran the world, it would be a very different place. Dry places would be wet places, and wet places would be wetland labyrinths, hosting a variety of plants and animals. Monogamous and industrious, the beaver shows great ingenuity in the construction of underwater lodges. "It's believed that they mate for life," says Linda Cocca of the Audubon Society's Natural History Information Services.

The young (generally four kits, though there can be as many as nine) are born at the end of May and live with both parents in the den. "A single-family unit is two adults, this year's kits, and the young from the previous year." Young beavers leave home after two years and must "look for a new place to build a lodge and raise their young." In the summer, beavers live on a variety of plants, grasses, and ferns. But in the winter, their diet consists of bark and cambium from trees. And therein lies the evidence of winter wood-cutting.

The beavers benefit the environment by creating wetlands, which are "one of the habitat features we've been losing since the 1950s," says Wildlife Biologist Susan Langloys of the Massachusetts Department of Fisheries and Wildlife. "Beavers create the best wetland, wildlife habitat that exists," she says. "They increase the number of ponds and flooded acres. They dam streams and create shallow marshes. And there is research showing that in areas adjacent to beaver ponds, the plants, mammals, and herons are in higher abundance and diversity." But beavers will also create wetlands where there are houses or whole suburban developments, putting them "into conflict with manmade land use," Langloys says.

Two years ago, Massachusetts passed a referendum regulating the type of traps that can be used to catch beaver (the season is November to February, and potential trappers must take an education course and have a permit). Snaptraps and cagetraps are allowed, but they are not as efficient as the outlawed traps. The result is that in just two years, the Fisheries and Wildlife estimates, our beaver population has more than doubled -- from 24,000 in 1997 to at least 52,000 in 1999. Which is quite a leap considering that the colonial settlers nearly eradicated the entire species.

Centuries ago, the beaver was to North America what gold was to northern California in the 1840s -- the chief unit of exchange. The soft, waterproof belly fur could be made into felt; and felt could be made into hats, specifically men's tophats. Cities like Northampton and Chelmsford were founded as stops on the fur-trading post, and a single beaver pelt could be exchanged for cloth, food, and firearms.

By the 1770s, there were few beavers left in Massachusetts. Subsequent land-use practices, specifically farming (which involved both taking down trees and draining wetlands), ensured that the beaver was virtually absent from the Commonwealth during the 19th century. They slowly began to return after the Civil War, when young men who'd seen the front, and, more important, the West, left the area. "There was a policy of farm abandonment," says Langloys. "And the beaver started showing up again."

By 1900, beaver again began to be, if not plentiful, present in Massachusetts. Their reappearance coincided with a period of environmental consciousness -- for example, the creation of a number of national parks. In 1932, the Berkshire County League of Sportsman submitted a bill to the Massachusetts Legislature asking for the beaver's protection, and since then, the beaver has been encouraged to return.

"This agency has put in a 50-plus year effort to the state, and the biggest thing is recognizing its positive wetland values," says Langloys. Over the years, Fisheries and Wildlife has live-trapped beavers, and then collected the entire colony and brought them into areas that are suitable for wetland creation. "Those were areas that the beaver could survive and thrive in, with a low-impact negative effect."

But trouble could be looming if too many of these industrious animals look for new homes in the wrong places. These days, Fisheries and Wildlife are busy with calls from residents with flooded basements, problems that can be corrected either by live-trapping the beavers or installing water-flow devices. "We do a site visit with every complaint that comes across," says Langloys. "Beaver is one of the biggest challenges for any wildlife biologist. You are having to manage and recognize the positive values with those habitats they create versus the economic loss where beavers show up and cause flooding damage.

"Our goals were to have a population high enough to get the best benefit out of them."

If you have questions about beavers, or would like to receive information, write to Massachusetts Division of Fisheries and Wildlife, 1 Rabbit Hill Road, Westborough 01581.

PIECES OF STRING LONG ENOUGH TO SAVE . . .

Every 10 years, there are half as many farms in the state. To survive, a modern farmer needs imagination and one of our favorites, Stillman's Farm, exemplifies that. The teenager of the family, Kate, is embarking on a "CSA" (Community Supported Agriculture) project (with her cousin Rick Jacobs of Fitchburg). For just $250 for 20 weeks (or $400, for a larger amount), the Stillmans will pack a box of seasonal produce especially for you. You're paying $12.50 a week but getting far more than that in produce -- for example, in June, the Stillmans will include strawberries, summer squash, lettuce, zucchini, greenhouse tomatoes, and herbs. Just come by the farmstand in Lunenburg, and pick up your "subscription."

"We grow 140 varieties of produce," says Kate, who's off to Cornell to study plant science next fall -- no surprise, for the scion of a farming clan. She's proud that her family avoids chemicals in the field (though this isn't possible for some crops for which the farm uses beneficial insects, and also a minimal application of pesticides in a program called Integrated Pest Management).

So far the response "has been great," say Kate, and a couple of dozen families have signed on, no doubt looking forward to a corn roast in July, melons in August, red peppers in September, and pumpkins in October.

Call or write Kate Stillman, 67 Royal Fern Drive, Lunenburg 01462 or (978) 582-6574.

DON'T FORGET the Pat Brody Shelter for Cats yard sale on Memorial Day Weekend (off route 13 on Northfield Road, Lunenburg). Call (978) 582-6116 if you have donations.

Sally Cragin is fascinated by mammals that swim.

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