Timber . . .

One evening last week, Dave and I stopped by the farm pond where we fish occasionally in order to retrieve some gear that had gotten left behind when the grandsons were here in October.  Of course, as long as you're standing on the bank of a well-stocked pond and holding "fish poles" (as Dave calls them), you can't resist casting just a few times.  When our short angling outing was over (does anyone know why they call it "angling"?) the scoreboard looked like this:

First fish:      Tami

Biggest fish:  Tami

Most fish:      Tami

ALL the fish:  Tami

Dave feigns ignorance of the existence of a fishing scoreboard, but his recollection improves when his name is on it.  To be fair, he gave me the pole with the best lure and then he removed all three fish from my hook and returned them to the pond - so we'll call it even.  

All that aside, my fishing prowess isn't really the point of this post.  The point is the mystery of nature we discovered among the trees.  Everyone knows beavers gnaw down trees and build dams - we learn that in grade school - but I had never seen it.  

And so it begins . . .

. . . and continues . . .

                                        

                 . . . Timber!

. . . and this is all that's left.

Since there were several stumps but no fallen trees (whole or partial) lying about, I assume they have been drug into the water and strategically placed to snag my fishing lure . . . but how?  I don't know how big a beaver actually is, but how does it drag an entire tree?  I couldn't do it!  Guess I'll just file that under "Things that make you say . . . hmmmmm."