We are back in beaver country where there is still snow on the ground. Low clouds soften the mountain views, forcing me to concentrate on the close-in beauty. The boot prints of someone willing to test the rotten lake ice lead toward deep water and I wonder why. There are no other tracks, not even the paw prints of a water-loving Lab. Why did this guy chance a cold dunking? The local beavers wouldn’t take such a risk, even in their logging operations. They never chew all the way through a standing tree, always leave a thin core of trunk that will snap in the next strong wind.