I can’t believe my Mom asked me, of all people, how to get rid of beavers living on her cabin property.  I’m an animal rights activist!  Does she not get that?  I’m not the kind of activist that breaks into places and releases zoo animals out onto suburban streets or anything, but I attend rallies and work in the local no-kill shelter and want mankind to preserve the natural habitats of wild animals. 

            So you can understand why I was a little shocked when my Mom called me up and asked me if I knew how to remove the beavers off her property upstate.  She said she figured I knew all about wild animals, or at least knew people who knew about them, that I could help her out.  Fact is, I don’t know anything about how to get rid of beavers, but I helped petition a state park to stop their demonstration on how to skin a beaver once.  I guess my Mom thought I was an expert, then.

            I agreed to meet up with her on the property and take a look at it for myself.  As I drove up there, I thought about how great Mom’s been at taking care of everything herself since Dad passed away several years ago.  She has the house and the large lot upstate with the cabin.  I resolved to help her out more.

            I got there before she did, and let myself in.  The cabin held a lot of memories for me: family trips up in the mountains, cross-country skiing, Dad trying to teach me how to fish in the stream that ran through the property, Mom taking me on long hikes in the fall to watch the leaves change color.  I strolled outside, fondly remembering the time when Mom and Dad let me throw a big party up here in high school.  Somehow we all made it back in one piece!

            And then, something caught my eye.  Several trees that had been here forever lay dead on the ground.  The beavers had gotten to them.  I decided to walk a little further over to the stream and was amazed to see the little stream was now a big pond.  The new pond had eroded away a good portion of the cabin’s backyard.  If it got any bigger, it would flood the cabin, or worse, damage its foundation.  I wondered if it had backed up the septic pipe, or contaminated the water feeding our well. 

No wonder Mom was so upset.  If the cabin flooded or was seriously damaged, if the well water was undrinkable, it would cost her a lot of money, money I didn’t think she had.   Beavers could live anywhere they wanted up here in the mountains, why’d they have to choose my Mom’s property?  As I saw my Mom’s car driving up to the cabin, I whipped out my cell phone and called a friend.  “Hey, Rick, any idea how to get rid of beavers?” I asked him.