Our Beaver Friends

We’ve been dealing with the aftermath of last month’s cold. I will not go into detail but the following words will give you a clue.

Lake. Frozen. Ice. Deer. Thirst. 5-degrees. Deersicle. 70-degrees. Floating. Stink.

Waiting. For. Buzzards.

And I just now wondered how the Beavers managed. I’m sure they were altogether cozy warm in their lodges to begin with.

Were it not for the fact that

Dead. Deer. Waiting. For. Buzzards.

was in the vicinity the entrance to Beaver-land, I would go take a look-see tomorrow.

Nasty. Brutish. Short.

[Geeze. Mr. Big Food wants me to make sure I include them all. Solitary. Poor. Nasty. Brutish. Short.]