October 9, 2007
I was on my daily constitutional, minding my own business and listening to a lecture about the racial constructs of 17th- and 18th-century Latin American and Brazilian societies on my iPhone, expecting the rain to start at any moment, when, lo! I pass the fire station located right next to the Hawthorne Bridge along the Eastside Promenade–and a bunch of the oak trees there are being cleaned up by a city crew. Upon closer look, I notice that these hadn’t been cut down by people.
“What…?” I started asking the closest tree crew fellow.
“Beavers,” he answered cheerfully.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah!”
This is about three blocks from work, in the middle of the city, granted next to a river, but a very wide, un-beaver-dam-able river, see.
Okay, pardon me, but “I was on my daily constitutional, minding my own business and listening to a lecture about the racial constructs of 17th- and 18th-century Latin American and Brazilian societies on my iPhone, expecting the rain to start at any moment …” is such a cliched intro. If I had a dime … :)
My question is how they made it across the Morrison Bridge. That thing is horrible for pedestrians, much less rodent pedestrians.
[...] post last week about beavers around here caught the attention of my friend Aimee, who works for the Oregonian. She says in an email: I just [...]