True Tales: Beaver T-Bone

True Tales: Beaver T-Bone

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Bob Skoglund

I was enjoying an evening bike ride with my dog, Kirby. Along the way, the trail ran between two ponds and we stopped to watch a large beaver swim around. I was surprised at how close he came to us—I could even see his eyes.

We continued on up the trail. Eventually we hit a dead end and turned around. Kirby had his head buried in some bushes and wouldn’t follow me, despite my insistent commands. So I whistled loudly and took off on the bike, thinking that a high-speed game of cat-and-mouse might get him going.

It worked. He came barreling down the trail, trying to catch up with me. I accelerated to full speed—the insubordinate cuss was gonna have to work for this one. As we approached the ponds, I turned to check his progress. When I turned back around, there was the beaver on the side of the trail.

Like a gopher on a dirt road, old Mr. Beaver made a last-second dash across the trail right in front of me. No time to react—I hit him square in the back. My front wheel stopped dead on his bulky brown hide and I began a 20-mph space-walk over the handlebars.

I hit the ground hard—a perfect collarbone landing. After the dust settled I picked myself up and inspected the bike: front wheel folded in half, but everything else intact. Unfortunately, I didn’t fare so well—in addition to a medley of cuts and bruises, my collarbone was broken for sure.

Kirby came up, sat down, and together we watched the beaver swim across the pond, scared but unscathed. As I held my broken shoulder, I wondered if anybody would believe my story when I got back to town. I barely believed it myself!

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