Chips, piled high, fresh inner'ds of an ash, lay exposed as the snow melts. Looking up, several canyons were formed in the middle section, evidence of my pileated friend's work.
Other deep scratchings nearby, but at the base, of sometimes large diameter trees, the beaver's goal: to fell and obstruct the creek called the Red, ambition or just a product of their inner programming? To chew, to fall, to cycle...
My nemesis is finding it difficult to decide on when to exit his winter burrow, having no low hanging fruit, greenery, or other shrubbery for his appetite. Last year he was effective on my tomato plant starts, this year I will know better. If possible, I'll be lassoing that varmint before our dike disintegrates.
Allowing those masked as a utility to remain will eventually prove futile, and if capacity is already diminished, deathly.