Lookin' for love in all the wrong places

Today was the day for The Great Beaver Hunt. This, it turns out, was of MAJOR importance to Christina, right behind visiting the beaver-free property she bought earlier in the year, and of course, seeing Moi.

It mattered little to her that the hard rains overnight had rendered the access roads dangerous, or the fact that we had no waders, or the fact that she can't shoot a gun. "Piffle," she said. So we went into town this morning and scored some waders with built-in boots at the sporting goods store.

After a visit to her property, we were ready for TGBH (The Great Beaver Hunt.) On went the waders.





Sassy is confused by California Girl's lace underpants! Sassy has never seen anything so fancy!

Hike the pants up to your armpits!

Admire ourself in the window. Yeah! Ready for the Nerd Herd!

Hey, Christina! There's room for more people in them there clown pants!



Yikes! I'm wearing Stud Muffin's waders and there isn't as much room left over. What's with THAT?? And, I can't walk across the porch without tripping in the oversized boots. Furthermore, Studly expressly forbade me from entering the water with my sore hip and him off at work, so I am relegated to the role for TGBH photographer!

Valiant Hunter!

You would think she was being forced by me to do this... instead of the other way 'round!!

The road was passable by this time, so we took off for the bridge. The deal was, Christina would get into the creek and I would try to follow along on the banks, armed with a pistol and camera.



First, we have to climb under the log, using the pathway that the beaver has smoothed with it's tail while chewing down many, many shrubs and trees.


Climb into the creek...


and almost go *ss over teakettle into the water. Ah! Good times, good times!

After she walked about 15 feet to the left, she quickly rounded a bend in the creek and was lost from view. If I was to track her, I would either have to cross the creek through the water (forbidden by Studly) or tightrope walk across a fallen and rotting tree. I chose door number three... yell at her from where I stood!

Of course, I was in no position to help her if she needed it, or defend her rubber-clad life with the gun, but I could shriek words of encouragement to the great wooded beyond and hope she heard me! I did take the buggy and try to find another way closer to the bank, but it was not to be.

The report came back that there was another dam further up the creek, and 3 places that could be beaver abodes, although none of them looked like the stick hut pictures we saw on the web.

Picture Christina took showing another dam with water cascading down in the lower right hand corner.

She came back disappointed, although I'm not exactly sure what she expected. Did she think a family of beavers would be happily paddling about in the swimming pool that they made just waiting for her visit? Did she long to stick the end of a shot gun into the "homes" she found and pull the trigger? Who knows.

But wanting to feel like we accomplished something, we did attempt to remove a falling tree that Mr. or Mrs. Beaver has caused to lean over the creek right at the bridge. Christina did the honors of climbing the tree and hooking up the winch cable.



But the tree was tougher than we were, so Studly will have to cut it with the chainsaw before we drag it away. That's okay, we have a couple of trees blocking the road that need to go as well.

So, no beaver for the Great Beaver Hunter, but she is still my hero for climbing into the unknown and slogging her way up river!