Beaver Brook Neighbors

Yesterday I saw my first otter.  Absolutely adorable, he hopped out of the water, quickly climbing to the top of the grassy ridge surrounding the pond, looking out onto the world in front of him, as if to simply say, "wow, so much excitement out here, so many people, no one looks like me, better dive back into my pond."  Instead, that adorable, sleek and slinky little otter, just stood there, taking it all in, enjoying the warm sun, as it dried off his shiny grayish skin.  So cute.

Although, Beaver Brook, flowing lazily along the edge of Fred's News, never produced any otters, at least while I was watching, did have an abundance of wildlife that called the meandering stream, home.
Early in April, State wildlife people would stock the stream full of trout, in preparation and anticipation of opening day fishing season.  Many times they would stop the big "fish" truck right in front of Fred's News, climb on top of the tanks and begin unloading the tanks of hatchery trout, right over the bridge, into Beaver Brook below.  Amazing to watch, patrons always enjoyed this time of year.  Soon after, the trucks departed, customers as well as interested onlookers, would peer over the edge of the bridge, hoping to spot the "big one", they would hook on opening day.  Children, fascinated with all the fish would press their faces up against the iron railing, hoping for a closer look.  Once the fish began swimming in all directions, thoughts of food or an afternoon treat, would once again lure people back into Fred's News.  Conversations, much like the "whooping big fish tales" conjured up on opening day, were all about the "big ones" they had just seen, and were not going to get away this year.  Little did these angler enthusiasts realize, that while they traded stories of glory from past years, the large blue heron, that called Beaver Brook it's Spring time home, was at that very moment, standing in the middle of the brook, enjoying a feast of freshly stocked trout.  One innocent youngster announced...."there's a Teradachtyl in the brook, eating all the fish!"    

Racoons, also frequent visitors to the stream, enjoyed the water and fish as well.  Late one evening, just at dusk, Bill was looking on the upstairs kitchen window, that looked directly down onto Beaver Brook.  I noticed him watching for awhile, questioning why, "Quiet please," he whispered.  So we sat and watched, finally my eyes adjusting to the darkness engulfing the trickling stream.  Out of the wildflowers and tiger lilies bordering the stream, emerged a beautiful and sleek little mink.  He too, looking for an evening meal.  We watched until darkness, camaflouged our furry friend, settling down in to the grasses and twigs, digesting his over indulgence at water's edge.