I awoke at sunrise, in time to observe my aquatic neighbors' first stirrings of the day.
[2] At first, a single head popped up from the surface of the water near the lodge, and looked around in all directions. Slowly, he swam in a circle around his dwelling, scanning for danger from the forest around him. He stared at me for nearly a minute, and I sat there, motionless, staring back, radiating calmness and my good intentions. Apparently, he accepted that I wasn't a threat, for he ducked back under the surface of the water, and soon thereafter returned with a good score of others, who spread out and went off in different directions.
I could see that at various places along the edge of the lake there were pointed stumps like the one I had seen the night before, signs of the beavers' woodcutting.
[3] In the morning light I could see the process clearly: one of the animals would approach his selected tree, and with his head turned parallel to the ground, take a bite out of the bark with his powerful front teeth. Then he would move his head a little and take another bite, making an adjacent cut into the tree. Over time, the tree would have an hourglass shape carved into it, and at the narrowest point, the giant beaver would concentrate his efforts until with a crack, the tree would fall over to the ground.
More often than not, the beavers would go in groups of twos or threes, with one of them standing guard for danger while the others worked. I noticed that they swapped off sentry duty often, but also that once a particular beaver started on a tree, he didn't stop until he had personally finished the job.
Once a tree was down, the branches would be stripped. Many of the smaller beavers took the branches back to the lodge, where they were used for building material or food. To the larger ones would fall the task of lugging the tree trunks back to the water. Those that were too heavy were cut into smaller, more manageable portions, or small canals were dug from the lake to the fallen tree, so that it could be floated back to the lodge.
While I watched the beavers work, I noticed one in particular kept glancing in my direction. Fearing to approach too close, I had spent the morning at my campsite near the fallen tree, watching them from a distance. At last, I caught on to why the one kept looking at me, and I gathered my belongings and stepped away, going twenty yards or so down the shore. Sure enough, the beaver approached the fallen tree and got to work finishing the job he had started the night before, stripping the branches from it. I had to laugh to myself at his almost human attitude; here he had gone to all the trouble of cutting down the tree, and I had been keeping him from it by my continued presence in its proximity. I imagined I could almost read an expression of exasperation on his furry face.
I was overcome by a sudden urge to talk to this creature. I had been watching him and his family now for some time, and yet for all of their diligent work, all of their actions so far had mirrored those of normal beavers, whom I knew to have merely an animal intelligence. These creatures seemed at first to be merely larger versions of the common beaver, but the scowl I received from my furry friend told me otherwise; I sensed a greater intelligence behind such a human reaction. And so I retreated into the forest, and began to meditate.
When I returned, I had the magical means to fulfill my desire. I approached the giant beaver slowly, carefully, lest I frighten it away. Belatedly, I wondered if an
animal friendship spell might not have been in order, but no, I wanted to do this part myself. I got as close as I dared, and he stopped work, peering at me quizzically as I cast my
speak with animals spell.
"Hello," I said. "I mean you no harm."
"You can talk," the creature responded.
"It is magic. I can talk with you like this for a short time only. I did not mean to frighten you and the others. Please forgive me for my intrusion."
"I didn't know you could talk. I thought only the People could talk."
"The People? Is that what you call yourselves?"
"The People of the Lodge."
"That's interesting. In my language, we call ourselves 'people.' Is there a word for me in your language?"
"You are a hunter. I saw a hunter once. He chased Berrypicker and tried to kill her with his little spears. But we hid in the lodge and he went away."
"You don't seem afraid of me."
"You don't have any little spears." I assume that he meant arrows, and in that he was correct. My only weapon was a staff, which I used mostly as a walking stick.
"What is your name?" I asked.
"I am Dives Deep."
"I am pleased to meet you, Dives Deep. My name is Delbert."
"That's a funny name. It doesn't mean anything."
I laughed. "I suppose it doesn't," I agreed. And then, I sensed that time was rapidly running out on my spell. "Thank you for talking with me, Dives Deep. I will visit with you again, if that is all right."
"Okay." And with that, he bent back down to his tree and began pulling off branches again. Another giant beaver approached him from the water and started chattering, but my spell had expired, and I no longer could understand them. I turned and reentered the forest, leaving the People of the Lodge to their work.
NOTES
2. In quiet areas, giant beavers will do much of their activity in the daylight hours, specifically in the early morning and late afternoon - they like to sleep during the hottest part of the day. If disturbed by other races or potential enemies, giant beavers will hide out in their lodge during the day and work at night.
3. An adventuring party can't ask for a better place to fight a vampire than in an area where giant beavers have been at work felling trees, as the place will be filled with pointed tree stumps of all sizes - a veritable garden of "wooden stakes."