Last night I was so freaked out that strange people where building barricades behind our house that I stayed up until 2:30pm. Then Dave woke up for work at 6:00am I know that because he woke me up screaming about the creek being blocked again. At least that’s what I think he said I was running on about 4 hours of sleep. At 9:00am when my daughter was done jumping up and down on my lifeless body I remembered faintly something about Dave and the creek. I rallied my troops and without coffee or even brushing my teeth the plan was to storm the creek! My son was armed with a hoe, me with a crowbar, and my daughter was going to be the lookout. On our way out to battle we saw our neighbors. I told them about our evil vandals, nasty kids, or ghastly hobos who clog up our creek and trespass on our land. My neighbor and his wife both agreed that I was battling beavers. YES! And oh NO!
YES, because I have been right the whole time at least 2 years my husband, and other who know who they are, have been mocking me about believing that beavers live in our back yard.
Oh NO! Because I can’t stop beavers with a No Trespassing signs, security cameras, threats of bodily harm, or any of the other violent ideas that I had thought up the night before. My neighbors suggested that I call animal control. But first I unleashed the hell hounds to the creek. Armed with my crowbar I tore apart every twig, log, small tree and revolting hunk of slippery stinky muck like a possessed crazed machine of mass destruction. My son was like a psychotic cyclone swinging his hoe like a gladiator on the battlefield.
Together we fought the little buggers for about 5 minutes until Spartacus got bored picked picked up his hoe and left, which made me work harder and faster. I was also motivated by the swamps of mosquitoes eating me alive as I ran out of the house without bug spray. The faster I went the more I became actuated with black muck and swamp water. I was throwing muck and logs like a super hero. I was running on pure adrenaline rage and fear of West Nile virus. By the time I was done I had blisters on my throbbing fingers, a fiery pain in my lower back and covered from head to toe in dark stinky mud. I had become swamp thing! I stank and my dirty arms and legs itched as much as they smelled. My shorts and shirt were drenched, my hair was dotted with clumps of filth and I was pretty sure that I had grown web feet.
I walked up to the house and threw open the door. My son looked at me and said. “Wow mom you are lookin’ pretty rough!” My daughter yelled “Ewe! Something smells!” and ran out of the kitchen. I ran up into the bathroom and showered for over an hour. Then I called animal control! WE HAVE BEAVERS!