The peekaboo beaver

We quietly left, and allowed the beaver to think it had won the game of peekaboo.

October can feel like a mixture of summer and fall, with temperatures ranging all over the place. It’s a great time to be in the woods, on the water, or both.

On this day, we were on both, floating in an aluminum johnboat, casting small spinners for redbreast sunfish, bluegill, and warmouth in a small tributary that holds all three species, and several more. Morgan had deer hunted that morning before meeting us to fish, and he said if we weren’t too loud while fishing, we’d see our share of deer.

We drifted along with the current, paddling only enough to avoid cypress knees and other obstacles. The fishing was steady, and the conversation was great. And the scenery was incredible, with a mixture of hardwoods and pine trees creating a high canopy overhead, with moss draped limbs adding to the beauty.

Every now and then, we’d hear deer blow in the distance, and a couple of times, we rounded a bend to the surprise of deer, which would bound away quickly, splashing through the water, then quietly slipping through the woods.

We had just dropped the anchor in one spot that was producing some fat redbreasts particularly well. Richie was talking about college football when Morgan gave us the universal hush sign.

Not just fishing

I thought he’d spotted a deer, and I glanced up to see him pointing toward the left bank. I looked, but didn’t initially see what had caught his attention.

“You see that beaver?” he whispered with a chuckle.

I looked again, and couldn’t believe I’d missed it the first time.

Standing behind a tall, thin tree that was only about as big around as my arm, was a beaver. It had its head directly behind the tree, and both sides of its body, including the eyes, were fully visible on both sides of the tree.

We all chuckled, and as we looked, the beaver peeked its head out from behind the tree, only to quickly hide it again when it made eye contact with us. It continued standing there, convinced it was hidden from our view as long as its full face wasn’t showing.

We decided to let the beaver be, and we quietly pulled up the anchor, then began drifting again, letting the animal think it had fooled us.

It was one of those moments that reminded us that fishing is about much more than just catching fish.

About Brian Cope 239 Articles
Brian Cope of Edisto Island, S.C., is a retired Air Force combat communications technician. He has a B.A. in English Literature from the University of South Carolina and has been writing about the outdoors since 2006. He’s spent half his life hunting and fishing. The rest, he said, has been wasted.