Upland Beaver
Posted: Wed Aug 07, 2013 2:25 pm
We went camping last week and as we drove into the grove of aspens we usually stop at we noticed a curious mound of branches and twigs, obviously not a natural accumulation. There was also an unusual pile of bark nearby. Thinking it might be the work of some native creature, I called a friend at the U. of U. who deals with Utah wildlife. He said it was probably the lodge of the rare Upland Beaver, which seems to be present in the Wasatch Plateau of Utah.
Very seldom has this creature been seen because it usually shows no sign of its presence until the snow gets deep enough that the Forest Service has closed the roads for the winter. It is so rare that most people are unaware of its existance. Those who know of it are reluctant to say anything because doing so or listing it as endangered would only popularize it and jepordize what appears to be a currently stable population. There is mythology surrounding the creature in the local area, however, and although most are skeptical. some old timers refer quietly to a "dry land beaver".
Apparently we interupted the building of the lodge when we settled in with our camper trailer.
My friend told me that the male beaver gathers the wood for the lodge and gets it organized. While this is happening the female gathers bark and when the lodge is set they cover it with bark. Through the winter the pair live on the material which makes up the lodge. The female gives birth to one or more offspring in early Spring, and by the time the snow melts to the extent the forest roads can be opened, the young are able to travel and they and the parents have moved on. The only remnant left when the snow melts is a pile of bark and some twigs, which is not unusual here abouts, and is why their presence goes unnoticed.
The professor asked me to honor the privacy of these rare animals and not speak of or draw attention to their presence. But knowing your interest in such matters, I felt I could offer you a glimpse of this unique animal, fully trusting you to also honor its quiet existance.
We will return to the mountains above Ferron again several times this year, and would be excited if we spotted the beaver itself. However, given its history, it is appartent that this is not likely to happen
Dad
Very seldom has this creature been seen because it usually shows no sign of its presence until the snow gets deep enough that the Forest Service has closed the roads for the winter. It is so rare that most people are unaware of its existance. Those who know of it are reluctant to say anything because doing so or listing it as endangered would only popularize it and jepordize what appears to be a currently stable population. There is mythology surrounding the creature in the local area, however, and although most are skeptical. some old timers refer quietly to a "dry land beaver".
Apparently we interupted the building of the lodge when we settled in with our camper trailer.
My friend told me that the male beaver gathers the wood for the lodge and gets it organized. While this is happening the female gathers bark and when the lodge is set they cover it with bark. Through the winter the pair live on the material which makes up the lodge. The female gives birth to one or more offspring in early Spring, and by the time the snow melts to the extent the forest roads can be opened, the young are able to travel and they and the parents have moved on. The only remnant left when the snow melts is a pile of bark and some twigs, which is not unusual here abouts, and is why their presence goes unnoticed.
The professor asked me to honor the privacy of these rare animals and not speak of or draw attention to their presence. But knowing your interest in such matters, I felt I could offer you a glimpse of this unique animal, fully trusting you to also honor its quiet existance.
We will return to the mountains above Ferron again several times this year, and would be excited if we spotted the beaver itself. However, given its history, it is appartent that this is not likely to happen
Dad