Beavers have moved in. In the woods at the edge of one of our fields, they have built a lodge and dammed off a small stream to flood the area, killing trees and changing the landscape, to the extent that our field is flooded along that side.
Above is the dam holding back the water. It’s a small streamlet, but enough water has built up to give them a fair sized underwater area.
As I stood there in the darkening afternoon, I noticed ripples on the water.
The beaver moved quickly in the water, and twice gave me a warning slap of its tail on the water surface, to startle me away from its territory.