Hearing the beaver breathe

[gerisullivan]

Life has been more stressful than I'm comfortable with these last few weeks. There's no one big reason, just too much, too much on too many of the little reasons. At least, that's how it feels on the inside. Up on the surface, all seems to be going in a relatively straightforward manner. My blessings are many, I'm getting a fair bit done, and if there's always way more to do than time and energy to do it in, well, that's one of the signs of an interesting, full life, isn't it?



A week ago, debgeisler took me out to Crane Beach in Ipswich. As she wrote, it's "one of the most beautiful beaches I've ever seen in the continental U.S. We walked and sat and soaked up some sun and some wonderful breezes. And we just *were.*"

It was lovely, and utterly relaxing.

Then we went back to Middleton where Deb and benveniste made amazingly nummy barbecued shrimp for dinner. New Orleans style barbecued shrimp, having "nothing to do with a barbecue pit or barbecuing," as this recipe site explains. "Why is it called 'barbecued' shrimp? Beats the hell out of me. If you're really curious, ask someone at Pascal's Manale Restaurant on Napoleon Avenue in New Orleans; it's where the dish was created. Me, I don't care. This dish is so good you can call it whatever you want."

We had kevin_standlee to thank for the shrimp. Earlier that day, he wrote about shrimp pan roast, served by John's Oyster Bar at the Nugget in Reno. I found and read that recipe to Deb, and that got her to thinking about barbecued shrimp.

My original plan had been to head home after wherever our wanderings took us that day, but after she took the shrimp out of the freezer, I asked if I could stay for dinner, and remain there for a third night, too. I spent a couple of hours working on various PROmote projects at hand, but even with that, the overall result was a welcome easing of stress levels.

Deb even sent the leftover shrimp home with me. I have the best friends. The very best friends. I am well aware of my own generous streak, but I tell you, I wouldn't have offered up those leftovers. Yum, yum, yum. Thanks, Deb & Mike! And thanks, Kevin, for the fortuitous timing of your comment. I hope to try shrimp pan roast in your company someday. I'll be remembering a certain afternoon at the beach and those barbecued shrimp when we do....

The title of this post came from this week's stress reliever. The Improbable Milo is staying with me for ten days while Marc and Robin are in the UK. Now, having a good dog around at all is a stress reliever, and Milo is a good dog. He's also a high-energy dog, so walks are not just a good idea, I'd call them necessary. For the last couple of days, we've walked along Mount Hitchcock and McBride Roads -- they have far less traffic than even the lightly-traveled Monson Road, and Milo is not a dog who intuitively understands that roads have cars on them, or that cars could hurt him. He's picking up the command "side" quickly -- I say "Milo, side!" and move my arm horizontally toward the side of the road I want him to go to now and he'll go bounding over, oh, about 70% of the time after two days of walking. I introduced the command when he stayed here for an overnight at the end of April. His brain may be tiny and prone to melting, but he seemed to have remembered the basics of the "side" command and we're building on that a fair bit more each day.

Except for today. Today, I took Milo for a completely stress-free walk at Conant Brook Dam. Wide, open pathways and no cars made for a pleasant stroll. Milo liked exploring new territory; I liked watching him levitate when excited by the nearby presence of squirrels and chipmunks. He goes straight up, from all four legs simultaneously. Hop! Hop!

We walked along the paths I discovered when I first visited the dam on a frigid, windy day in March, and went exploring to the edge of a small cliff on another one. Near the edge of the lake, I peered through shrubs and trees to a large beaver dam. Another fifty feet further up the path, I had a clear view of the lake, and of a large beaver serenely swimming along.

Serenely until it noticed Milo, that is. An abrupt dive and large tail slap caused Milo to levitate once more. Levitate and back off, uncertain of the nature of the risk at hand. I stood quietly, watching as the beaver resurfaced and resumed swimming along. Whuff. Whuff. I could hear the beaver breathing even over the competing bird calls all around me. Whuff.

It was almost the shadow of a snore, surprisingly audible from 15-20 feet away. I've seen beavers on and off my entire life; this is the first time I remember hearing one breathe.

I saw two more dive'n'slaps, one large, the other half-hearted. The large one splashed water all the way to the shore. Very impressive. Milo levitated again, but quickly returned to sniffing the ground around him. He somehow knew he wasn't going after the beaver, and just wasn't that concerned by or interested in its presence apart from the startling noise of those tail slaps.

An elderly couple came along and watched the beaver for awhile with me, telling of the babies they saw there last year, and of other paths and entrances into the area. They walk there almost every day, they said. Years ago, families used to bring picnics, but they don't, anymore. I expect it would take at least some tables and trash cans to change that -- the dam and surrounding acres have none, and no other amenities, either. Except for the wide trails and beautiful surroundings. They're plenty enough for me. I rather expect Milo and I will head back over to the dam several more times while he's here.

Crane Beach. Conant Brook Dam. Sand, sun, ocean, birds...rocks, trees, birds, and the breath of a beaver.

Oh, yes, life is good.