One year ago, on a cool autumn day, I came upon an opportunity to film two beavers adding to their winter food cache. They were taking down numbers of saplings, hauling them out of the woods to their food cache in the pond. Larger trees were felled for their branches, while the bark of their trunks was consumed on the spot. The beavers would alternate that activity with the chore of insulating their lodge with a fresh coat of mud dredged up from the pond bottom. They were active virtually all day, every day, as well as during the night.
 |
| Beaver gnaws on a tree at night |
It appeared that there were just these two adult beavers living in the small pond. But not long after beginning daily visits to the pond, I saw a third beaver, a young one that had been born that spring. Things were becoming a little more interesting. The following day, I saw that there was a second youngster too. Great! This is getting better! And then the very next day, a third youngster appeared. I now had a family of five beavers to watch, tirelessly working together to build their winter food supply. I had never been this lucky before, despite having spent several years filming beavers.
This family was not overly wary of my presence, which made it so much easier to film them in their daily routines. As long as I was downwind of them, they went about their business. Seeing that they were often making trips about 150 feet upslope from the pond to harvest saplings, I sat on a small rock up there one day to hopefully get a head-on shot of one of them coming up the hill. It didn't take long. I was not expecting that yearling beaver to come right to my feet! It was indeed a thrilling experience, but, admittedly, quite concerning as well. I thought about those chisel-sharp teeth. I had no idea how it would react if and when it discovered my feet at its nose. Stopping abruptly, it paused for a couple seconds, then (thankfully) turned left and continued on its way, making a half-circle to end up at a sapling several yards uphill behind me.
 |
| A young beaver at my feet |
In short order, the sapling came down. The beaver began dragging it down the slope, directly toward me. Still sitting on the rock, I didn't want to startle it, and strained to turn only my head to watch it. I was again concerned about the beaver's approach and possible reaction. When it was within a couple feet of me, sapling in mouth, I nervously but quietly said to it "whoa, go around." It froze, staring at me. I stood up, preparing to scram. Apparently it was now as concerned about me as I was of it, because it dropped the sapling and took off at high speed down the slope, running right across my feet! It quite literally high-tailed it, galloping far faster than I had ever witnessed a beaver run before. It made it to the water in probably record time. I think I was nearly as wet from perspiration as it was from immersion! It maybe was a memorable experience for the young beaver too. That was enough for me for that day; I went home, relieved and happy.
I spent five or six days a week there through fall, winter, and the following spring and summer.
In spring, I saw evidence that the adult pair likely had a new litter of young in the lodge. Mom was gathering ferns and hauling bunches of them to the lodge, no doubt to feed young.
 |
| A beaver brings ferns to the lodge |
Then, one day in late June, a new beaver kit made its appearance in the pond. It was noticeably smaller than its siblings born a year earlier, and remained close to the lodge. This was the only member of this spring's litter, but it increased the family size to six individuals. They all were a joy to watch develop, as the youngsters learned skills from the parents. I had never heard beavers vocalize like these before; that alone made the time with them well worthwhile. There were amusing instances, and they kept me entertained for the months I spent learning about their lives.
 |
| Beaver adult with kit |
During my time at the pond, there were of course other intriguing lives to observe. In early spring, a mated pair of yellow-bellied sapsuckers were at work excavating a nest cavity in a dead aspen at the edge of the pond. Being sapsuckers, they were also busy chipping out their distinctive rows of small holes in a maple tree a few yards away, from which they'd lap up sweet sap. The young they raised turned out to be the most entertaining bird nestlings I've seen.
 |
| Male yellow-bellied sapsucker |
Just as intriguing as the beavers' and sapsuckers' lives were, I was fortunate to witness and film the complete life cycle of tiny Harvester butterflies, from adult to egg to larva to pupa to adult; another new experience. The larvae of butterflies dine on various plants, but this species does not; it is North America's only carnivorous butterfly- the caterpillars gobble up woolly alder aphids. They do this right under the "noses" of ants that otherwise carefully protect the aphids from predation, in order to "farm" them for the sweet honeydew liquid they excrete.
 |
| Harvester butterfly, emerged from chrysalis |
And it seemed to be a banner year for gray tree frogs around the pond; at times their mating trills commanded attention, echoing off the surrounding wooded slopes to the point where no other sounds were noticeable. Each time their chorus began, I couldn't help but smile, it was so energizing.
 |
| Gray tree frog, trilling |
It was a good year.
Beaver Family Life will be available on the New England Forests Youtube channel at 6pm EST on Wednesday, November 19, 2025.
