Arts and crafts
CELEBRATING BEAVERS
WITH YOU!
Indulge your senses in this selection of artwork celebrating the beaver’s return to Britain. Music, poetry, short stories, painting, illustration, ceramics, film, plasticine, needlework, what else can you think of?…. and what can you submit to us at @beavertrust?
Beaver
Silent swimmer, slipping through silken meniscus of green reflecting watery light.
Unpaid worker, clearing brambles,
coppicing trees. cleaning water, inventing ponds.
Generous host, making homes
for plants, insects, newts and fish.
Creator of jobs for otter and heron.
Bold author of re-imagined headwaters,
unconscious sequester,
fierce protector, little person.
Please come back to a river near me.
Chris Jones, Cornwall Beaver Project, July 2020
I found you curled like a cat,
on a ledge above the water,eyes shut,
deep in slumber.
Water chuckled past,
leaves danced and scraped,
your ears failed you.
Admiring the perfection of whisker,
nose and fur, I wondered how
you, perfect predator, found enough
in this tiny stream.
I squeaked as to call my cat,
your eyes opened, fixed on mine,
you uncoiled like rope, slipped into your element.
Gone, in no hurry, as if to say
I’m not scared of you,
just can’t stand your company.
Castor Trail
We search for signs among waterways –
Scent mounds sculpted from loam
A corset of teeth marks,
Shaping trunks into hourglasses
Flattened rushes, juicy heads of irises
Crudely stripped of their yellow flags.
Flattened paths through riverbank reeds,
Paddle shaped tracks in the mud –
A stick gliding through water
Like a submarine’s periscope.
It’s a game of belief.
The signs are there
But the beaver remains elusive, mocking
With its catch-me-if-you-can calling cards.
Always will o’ wisp.
Always one step beyond.
Beavers with borders song
Song clip
Castor Aspersions
Beaver, beaver, beyond here, over there
My what big teeth, glands and tail you wear
Just look at your rich glossy hat… I mean coat
Fear not, you won’t stock my pelt-trade boat
When I think of you I get goosebumps and shiver
You clever little engineer and repairer of rivers
Imagine what glorious deeds together we could do
If only homo sapiens gave more space to you
But sometimes you can be a right pain in the arse
Especially when messing with Victorian draina(r)ge
A small price to pay to breathe life back to Britain
Is love too strong a word for being rodent-smitten?
Whisper in my lughole, tell me the elixir
How do I fix my beaver fever?
