found the Beaver
Dam--the only one I ever saw, or am likely to see, for the race that
builds them is nearly done. I had been walking upstream and fishing some
small rapids above the others when I saw what appeared to be a large
pool of still water just above. I made my way up there. It was in
reality a long stillwater, but a pond rather than a pool. It interested
me very much. The dam was unlike any I had ever seen. For one thing, I
could not understand why a dam should be in that place, for there was no
sign of a sluice or other indication of a log industry; besides, this
dam was not composed of logs or of stone, or anything of the sort. It
was a woven dam--a dam composed of sticks and brush and rushes and
vines, some small trees, and dirt--made without much design, it would
seem, but so carefully put together and so firmly bound that no piece of
it could work loose or be torn away. I was wondering what people could
have put together such a curious and effective thing as that, when Del
came up, pushing the canoe. He also was interested when he saw it, but
he knew what it was. It was a beaver dam, and they were getting mighty
scarce. There was a law against killing the little fellows, but their
pelts were worth high prices, and the law did not cover traffic in them.
So long as that was the case the beavers would be killed.

I had heard of beaver dams all my life, but somehow I had not thought of
their being like this. I had not thought of those little animals being
able to construct a piece of engineering that, in a swift place like
this, could stand freshet and rot, year after year, and never break
away. Del said he had never known one of them to go out. The outlet was
in the right place and of the proper size. He showed me some new pieces
which the builders had recently put into the work, perhaps because it
seemed to be weakening there. He had watched once and had seen some
beavers working. They were as intelligent as human beings. They could
cut a tree of considerable size, he said, and make it fall in any chosen
direction. Then he showed me some pieces of wood from which they had
gnawed the sweet bark, and he explained how they cut small trees and
sank lengths of them in the water to keep the bark green and fresh for
future use. I listened and marveled. I suppose I had read of these
things, but they seemed more wonderful when I was face to face with the
fact.

The other canoe came up and it was decided to cut a sma