Trees down here and there, but that's it.
While all this was going on, the busy beavers were plugging up a major drain on a dam, causing the +5 inches of rain to rise too high and fall to our new overflow culvert.
This is not the first battle waged against this particular band of rodents. We had unplugged the drain the day before Michael and had left the 40' ramrod on the bank.
The rogue beavers stole it and dragged it off across the pond.
Barely visible off in the distance...requiring us to get the kayaks out to retrieve it. Nothing is ever easy around here. Murphy's Law #577.
Kayaks in play, we decide to travel through the swamp to find the beaver lodge. Not easy navigating over mats of vegetation and through bushes. Dax is being particularly pesky and insisting on being in water instead of on boat. I can't allow it: beavers, snakes, potential alligators...
Sure enough, we can only make it half way through to the next pond before Flynn,who's 50 feet ahead of me, reports that the cottonmouth snakes are getting too curious. I have my pistol strapped to me, so he's trying to convince me that we can make it past them. I decide that Dax, nor I, require an emergency room trip, I abandon him and hightail back to open water. That's when Dax decides he's bailing and capsizes our kayak. I can't touch bottom, yet I can feel things catching my feet, I can't manage to right the boat since an idiot is tethered to my waist and is pulling me away. I get up on the overturned boat and reel Dax in. Spring fed lakes are pretty cold, BTW. My gun is still drying out today.
Dax has the gift of provoking adrenaline rushes.
With our ram rod back in play, we attempt to push the clots of mud and branches through the pipe. No go, feels like they shoved a whole tree in there. No choice but to dive into the opening of the pipe to pull sticks out. I try, but Flynn's arms are longer.
This means war. We froze our buns off driving back in an open cab vehicle. I'm not so fond of the industrious beaver any longer.
