This is a story of major construction now underway in Pine Plains without a building permit.
But there are no fines to be levied, and no humans to blame.
The culprit is none other than New York’s official mammal, the American beaver (Castor canadensis). To which I would say: Does state-icon status entitle you to chop down a 150-year-old oak?
Because that’s just what is happening.
Thompson Pond, in particular the southwestern corner abutting Stissing Mountain, is now home to numerous colonies of beavers. During a visit last week, I spotted eight beavers. They’re nocturnal, so the best time to see them is at dusk.
It used to be that beavers outnumbered people nearly three to one. In the mid-1800s, there were an estimated 60 million beavers in the United States, as opposed to 23.2 million people.
But deforestation and a bustling trade in beaver pelts led to a sharp population decline, with the mammals depleted nearly to the point of extinction by the late 19th century.
In New York State, efforts in the early 1900s to reintroduce beavers in the Adirondacks proved highly successful. Today, upstate beaver populations are thriving, with up to 75,000 chomping away at the Adirondacks alone. Beavers have even been spotted in Brooklyn.
Beavers are the largest American rodents, and I’m convinced the one occupying the southwest corner of Thompson Pond weighs in at a solid 65 pounds and runs 35 inches long. When it slaps its tail to warn of danger, it sounds like a gunshot reverberating from one side of the pond to the other.
We should probably count our blessings. The now-extinct predecessor of the Castor canadensis measured eight feet long and weighed over 200 pounds. That creature could probably eat half of Pine Plains for lunch.
Vivian Walsh, who lives on Twin Island Lake with her husband Kevin, reports seeing an increase in beavers. “When we arrived in 1997, there were no beavers in any of the town lakes,” says Walsh, who is an animal rescuer. “Now there are four lodges just at our end of the lake. They provide all kinds of entertainment.”
Beavers are remarkably well adapted for an industrious, water-logged existence. They can swim 15 miles per hour, use nature to their advantage, and hold their breath underwater for up to 15 minutes. True New Yorkers, for sure.
Like many area landowners, Walsh looks at beavers with a mixture of admiration and awe: “They work fast. You’ll notice a few chips in a big tree and the next day, poof it’s gone. I love them, but I wish they hadn’t hit our blueberry bushes.”
After a few recent visits to the pond, I believe I can now identify which beaver works on which tree. One is a sculptor who, before felling a tree, carves it into abstract shapes that could give local woodcarver Bart Tenore a run for his money.
In greater Pine Plains, there are now over a dozen active lodges. These elaborate lodges are much bigger than they appear to be above the surface of the water, extending up to 14 feet from their underwater base. Inside, they feature two levels, including separate compartments for feeding, drying, and sleeping. Lodges usually hold several family members, including young non-breeding adults. The beavers on Thompson Pond have created several tunnel entrances into their lodges, and equipped them with air vents.
The dams are not only sophisticated homes for the beavers. They also create good habitat for fish, ducks, turtles, and frogs. However, in building them, the beavers can damage our local forests, already under assault by the emerald ash borer, the wooly adelgid, and myriad other critters.
A single beaver can chew down hundreds of trees each year. Its front teeth never stop growing. A family can gnaw their way through a ton of trees in one winter. Just look around Thompson Pond for the evidence. Still, the once-endangered beavers are now protected by law and are not considered nuisance animals.
After seeing the trail of 100-foot-high trees that have been chewed to death on Thompson Pond, I am ashamed to say I wish beavers would evolve to eat less appealing types of flora. Crabgrass, perhaps. Bittersweet. Poison Ivy.
When International Beaver Day rolls around on April 7, part of me wants to celebrate this remarkable animal – athlete, architect, and loyal family member. Another part of me wants to say: “Cut it out, bub, or you’ll be a hat!”