By Tom Hubbard
Eident indwaller o that wilderness
Reddin and guidin it fir your domain:
Smaa pioneer, makar miraculous,
Frien beaver: tak this haun’s-turn o my ain.
Frae birk or sauch, poplar or quakin-esh,
You chaw your biggin-gear, forby your meat;
Deep in the swurlin waters you enmesh
A routh o logs and brainches, ticht and neat.
A crannog reeks intil the winter air:
Your fowk byde in their chaumer het and hale.
Swimming up throu a bore ti jyne thaim there,
You beat a ferlie music wi thon tail.
The Indian hunter kent you fir a God;
His squaw has taen your kitlins ti her breast …
Your clan – and his – were bi the mongers caa’d
Doon fir mass slauchter. Few wad spear, wha’s neist?
Syne we hae cried you back: oor governaunce
Had fund a gairden, left it as a muir.
Whit is your secret, beaver, as you daunce
At the lochside wi your feres? Whit is your pouer?
Eident indwaller o thon wilderness
Reddin and guiding it fir your domain:
Smaa pioneer, makar miraculous,
Frien beaver: tak this haun’s-turn o my ain.
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Paul took the van in for routine servicing on Tuesday morning, so I had a quiet morning at home doing thrilling things like cleaning toilets and laundering the new comforter (the old one had shredded in the washing machine, possibly helped by small rips made by cat claws). When he got back, we ate lunch, then walked to the beach since the weather had turned lovely. My Voyager group watched "Live Fast and Prosper" -- fine till the ending!
Then Paul and I watched this week's Shogun (more seppuku! ahistorical seppuku! every week we get new seppuku! Despite the cast, I'm actually glad the show is almost over). Now we're watching the second episode of Mr Bates vs the Post Office, which is brilliant, well-written and enraging, and I can't believe how little coverage the story got in the U.S. Evidence of beavers in the Sammamish River last weekend:
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