Jan. 25, 1913 
FOREST AND STREAM 
103 
The Tenants of the Iron Barrier 
T he length and height of the dam depends 
entirely upon the width of the stream. Some 
dams have been noted as high as eight feet 
and up to 150 feet in length, but there are some a 
good deal shorter than this and not so high. 
When the dam is built it is noticed that the water 
forms an even flow over the top and just of 
such a height that it will drop over easily with¬ 
out force or wear. A sentinel is stationed 
at a commanding point to warn his working 
kindred of the approach of a dangerous element 
either in the shape of brute or human. The 
beaver sense of smell is very much developed, 
and this feature aids him greatly in telling if 
there are others present in the neighborhood. 
When the dam has been built the beaver sets 
about putting in his winter’s supply of food. In 
the main this food consists of the bark of 
tender young saplings and twigs, although the 
inner fiber of the wood is also consumed. In 
the winter time, however, most of this food is 
the bark of willows, poplar, birch, aspen, alder, 
ash, hazel and hemlock and various others, all 
depending upon what varieties may be found 
in the immediate vicinity of the dam. These 
shoots are cut up into certain lengths and con¬ 
veyed to the deadwater, where they are stored 
for the winter’s consumption. When the winter 
has set in and the stream is frozen, the beaver 
is perfectly safe from the clash of the elements, 
and nothing breaks in upon him in his subterran¬ 
ean retreats. There is the dense gloom of the 
dry chamber in which the family is content. 
The monotony does not seem to be realized, 
and between eating, sleeping and swimming they 
have a gay time indeed, making a hundred jour¬ 
neys a day to the food bed in the deadwater 
and dragging into the house a stick to eat on. 
When these sticks have been thoroughly shaved 
of their bark, they are carried to a place along¬ 
side of the dam, where they are utilized in time 
of need in repairing the structure. Such an 
emergency as a breakage in the dam, the beavers 
are well fitted to meet, and then as by an un¬ 
known call all are out and busy, dragging in 
wood and carrying in mud and clay to keep this 
in place. With the constant wear of the water 
upon their work it can readily be recognized 
that it is a tedious task indeed, and often very 
discouraging, but they never leave it go un¬ 
finished. I have taken the liberty of setting 
down the “observations” of one Dr. William Allen 
who published a private book, evidently for his 
friends alone, and which I am told by relatives 
never got beyond eighty copies. The name of 
the book is “Twenty Years in the Rockies,” and 
seems to me to be more or less of a “story” all 
through from beginning to end. The following 
extract does not lead us to have much hope on 
other statements contained in the book: 
“The stream at this point was a series of 
little lakes, and about 200 yards below I could 
hear the triphammer and piledriver thumping 
away as each beaver’s tail came down on the 
new construction. I was soon near the dam, 
but could get no satisfactory point of observa- 
By ROBERT PAGE LINCOLN 
{Concluded from last week.) 
tion. A few yards ahead of me stood a box 
elder tree, and I began to crawl toward this as 
carefully as if I were stalking a band of deer. 
The bushes and willows covered my approach 
and presently I was among the branches. Care¬ 
fully I peered from out the green foliage. What 
a sight met my gaze! Seventy or eighty beavers 
were working in broad daylight, and as though 
they feared none of God’s creatures. I took a 
careful survey of the country for Indians, saw 
that my horse and gun were within easy reach, 
and dismissed all fears. I was eager to give 
my entire attention to what I had often sought 
after, but never had had the pleasure of seeing 
until now. The dam was nearly one hundred 
yards long, about six feet wide at the bottom 
and narrowed to two feet at the top. It com¬ 
prised stones, logs and willow branches packed 
together so firmly that it was impossible to dis¬ 
lodge any portion of the structure. I first sought 
to divide the workmen according to their respec¬ 
tive duties. The most prominent figure was that 
of an old beaver, gray with age and of enor¬ 
mous size, whose function seemed to be that of 
general supervisor, for he sat apart on a sand¬ 
bar. 
“My attention was next attracted to some 
very large, strong beavers which placed in posi¬ 
tion material brought forward by others. I be¬ 
grudged the occasional glances which I was 
compelled to give to satisfy me that no Indians 
were approaching. I was curious to know how 
these hod carriers, who came forward with their 
tails loaded down with mortar obtained their 
load. The master mechanics with their tails 
beat this mortar into position. I peered a little 
further over the boughs and saw that down be¬ 
low the dam close to the original creek bank 
where some w'ater w’as creeping forth was the 
mortar trough. Some beavers were engaged in 
mixing this sticky clay and placing it on other 
beavers’ tails who in turn went straight to the 
dam with it. I could scarcely remain silent 
when I saw this proceeding, for how this mud 
was moved had always been a mystery to me, 
as it takes tons of it to make a dam. I beheld 
with delight even the youngest beavers coming 
witji long willow twigs in their mouths to lay 
beside the masters. These in turn took them, 
cut them in pieces and stuck them down by 
rearing upon their hind feet, holding the twigs 
fast in their teeth while pushing them firmly 
into the dam. As soon as the mortar was taken 
from the hod carriers, it was stamped solidly 
into position by the tails of the workers. Such 
precision and orderly work I have never seen 
carried out, except by the bees and the red ants 
of the plains. I noticed two or three times that 
the youngsters had a disposition to play between 
loads. The masters would then thrust out their 
necks and show their teeth. This would cause 
them to scamper back to work. 
“In my delight and curiosity I pressed far 
and further out on a small limb and suddenly 
it broke, letting me down noisily. The superin¬ 
tendent beaver upon hearing the sound jumped 
into the water and gave one stroke of his tail 
which sounded all over the series of dams, and 
instantly every beaver had disappeared and dead 
silence reigned. My horse was still cutting grass 
without fear or excitement, so I slid to the 
(Continued on page 125.) 
“these shoots are conveyed to the deadwater.” 
