Ever since about the second half of March I have noticed that the last year’s kits (now almost yearlings) have changed their behaviour.
They have apparently begun taking their tail-slapping duty very seriously and I rejoice at their newfound sense of responsibility because their mommies are pregnant with their younger siblings and it is much better that they are taking such enthusiastic charge at becoming the protectors of the most vulnerable of their kin (pregnant mommy and later the kits) rather than feeling neglected.
I believe that they still used to largely restrict their movements during autumn and winter.
Spring with its changes in family structure must have also arrived with opportunities to move independently and to accompany adults more closely.
From my observations, the kits used to still linger near the den or other safe sites while the adults were seeking out forage where they could (and sometimes, in highly disturbed ranges, they had to travel far inland or take other perilous routes where the kit was probably not welcome to accompany them).
Kits are subject to greater winter mortality risk due to exposure to cold than the plump and big adults.
Thereby, the kits must have limited their activity during these cold months.
As a result, they may have, in fact, been feeling more lonesome than cuddled.
Now that their mommies are expecting the younger siblings, the kits are probably not taking this change in their status with any regret because the kits can be more active and perhaps they can even spend more time with their parents than while they were younger (because they can join the adults more frequently and they can visit a greater variety of foraging patches).
It is nice enough being the baby but it is exciting, as well, growing into one’s respectable status in the family (assuming the dutiful role, accompanying the adults) and having the world open up for exploration.
I have already written about what I perceived to be (pregnant) mommy-guarding behaviour in last year’s kits (Beaver observation (Mar 13, 2024) – last year’s kit protecting mother?).
This behaviour has been continuing.
In fact, the kits appear to be taking this responsibility very seriously.
On several occasions, I have observed a kit who has slapped its tail in a spot where the water is too shallow or the configuration is otherwise not very supportive of creating a loud splash (minding that kits/yearlings are also smaller in size and therefore they must invest in producing considerable impact).
Then the kit has swum several metres to a deeper spot where it has repeated the slapping behaviour thereby amplifying the sound effects that can be gained from its current mass and size.
These younglings are very enthused and I cannot help but wonder whether some hormones that the mothers emit during pregnancy might have impact on the family’s behaviour.
One week was especially intense and it seemed that all beavers in all families were just playing the fountains of the forest.
This was observed during the last week of March/first week of April, coincidental to increased territorial activity in roe deer males.
The synchrony between the two species suggests that some environmental factors could have contributed to the energetic attitudes.
I suppose that it was when the vegetation started truly greening up.
Perhaps animals (especially, adults) are wary when to express any exuberance.
It is very early in the year and cold spells might still befall us, including longer periods of cold weather.
I believe that, unlike humans who rejoice at the first warm days, animals delay their rejoicing (expressing their internal states more intensely) until they are certain that the seasons have truly shifted and that the winter is over.
This shift might be associated less with the temperature and more with the abundance of food.
Thus, the exuberance in both beaver and roe deer behaviour could have been the result of their confidence that, be the temperature as it may, food will not be scarce anymore.
Temperature might be even a lesser predictor of the seasonal turnover in beavers because beavers (especially, adults) do not suffer its impacts as greatly as other species with poorer body insulation properties.
I wonder what this sudden excitement entitled.
Namely, we associate spring with emotional states and symbolic expectations.
While I do not mean to claim that animals cannot experience similar elevated mindsets (e.g., the relief, the hope, the new beginning), I also think that they are not wasteful and that if they display any exuberance (i.e., they demonstrate their inner states), there must be some good reason other than showing their emotion.
Beside the typical arguments (e.g., in spring beavers resume full territoriality, as well, which has been somewhat neglected during the somewhat slow winter period) I also think that the motivations in adults (unlike kits who might simply invest their increased energy levels in activities that befit their stage of development and who might also enjoy moving around after the wintertime’s relative inactivity and making use of their youthful limbs) could be related to dispelling the anxieties and fears they have accumulated during winter (possibly, one of the most stressful times of the year).
And I do not mean just psychologically.
While living organisms are exposed to environmental stress, there are changes in their body chemistry.
Some compounds (secondary metabolites aka defense chemicals) are produced while the production rates of other compounds might become altered (through modifications in gene expression or on the level of post-transcriptional factors).
One of such examples – reactive oxygen species that have become somewhat famous in the human fitness commercialism (calling for products with antioxidant properties in order to detoxify our bodies).
Perhaps beavers are sending signals to their bodies that the prolonged threat is over and that regular metabolic pathways can be resumed.
These metabolic processes would probably become reset automatically as the beavers get to forage on better quality resources, move around more actively but also without excessive effort (winter movements are probably characterized both by restriction of ordinary activity level and imposition of highly challenging activities that place a greater strain on the body).
However, if the beaver can cognitively predict that times have changed, perhaps it is beneficial to speed up the resumption of spring/summer metabolism because many secondary metabolites can be toxic or they can prevent the resources (nutrients) from being converted into other forms, necessary for growth and reproduction.
Thus, the beavers might attempt to send signals to their bodies that winter is over and that instead of insuring the body against winter stress, the organism should begin investing in growing as well as in the growing of the embryos.
It is known that regular exercise can, for example, reduce oxidative stress levels but what I was observing in late March/early April was not any routine activity.
The activity was more intense as if the beavers were attempting to use every muscle in their body at full force.
I know that sometimes when we have suffered long ailment or when we have been nervous etc., we have this desire to later express our relief through, for example, jumping very high or singing very cheerful songs or running distances that we would not normally run.
I believe there could be some mechanism which is perhaps neural as much as it is otherwise physiological behind this exuberant activity that allows us to tell our body that something difficult is now over and that new physiological and psychological states can be had/resumed.
Relying on ‘automatic messaging’ within the organism (reactions to changes in nutrition, regular activity etc.) might not be as efficient, especially, if the beaver can make cognitive predictions of what is to come and the beaver knows (before the rest of its body does) that it is time, presently, to invest into recovery and development rather than to maintain caution.
Anyway, I had intended to write this post about beaver kits and their high spirits.
The first part of this post was dedicated to the kits/almost yearlings finding themselves assuming behaviours and tasks that are more adult in nature and that allows them to become an active, participating part of their family unit.
In the second part I wished to discuss another type of behaviour I have observed in the kits during the past week/week and a half (first half of April).
On several occasions and in several families, I have had the following experience.
I have arrived at my ‘observational post’ which is sometimes located in a slightly elevated position (I do not have that much choice where to sit) but, in a few spots, I sit right beside the waterline.
It has been particularly in these situations (when we – my dog and I – are very close to the water), I have observed the kits/almost yearlings sneaking up on us to make a splash mere metres from us.
It is quite amusing.
I have never attempted to befriend these beavers but they have become somewhat familiar with me (and my dog) and our disposition.
I do not try to scare them off or to somehow induce fear in them.
Instead, I am mainly quiet and I do not express much attitude of any kind.
What I avoid is trying to lure the beavers to me (by using some type of unnatural voice that suggests I am extremely friendly or by offering snacks).
If the beavers want to approach me, they must do so based on their own thorough evaluation of the circumstance and they should be able to judge me, individually.
I am not trying to augment my ‘niceness’ in order to ‘beguile’ the beavers.
I am just who I am and if they figure it is alright to come closer, I will not show aggression because that is also a response which is not natural to me.
I believe the problem is often that humans push themselves onto animals before the animals can gradually acquire an exact sense of who these individuals are.
Animals are capable of distinguishing between individuals with certain attitudes and I do not believe that there is much harm if the animal chooses to investigate us on its own terms.
I believe that bad habituation occurs when we, for example, offer animals (who are often very hungry because living in the wilderness is difficult) food and then the animals associate food with us rather than having figured us out, on an individual and circumstantial basis.
In their despair, animals might ignore how they are feeling and they might not be making decisions anymore but simply relying on some false promises and plunging themselves into interaction without following every response within themselves.
Thus, they might not track the subtle gradient between taking flight vs. making friends and they might just fall into one extreme or the other.
Meanwhile, animals who make their own decisions during every step can still retreat and run away if there is anything they find suspicions along the way of approaching us (or if they doubt our intentions on specific occasions but not during others because in nature animals also can be friendly in some situations but not in others, e.g., when there are young nearby or when food is scarce).
I think that these kits, over the period of many months, have come to realize that we are not dangerous because we have never expressed any attempt at attacking them or intimidating them.
I think that they are using us to satisfy their curiosity and perhaps also to learn this very same gradual process of decision making with regard to novel stimuli.
The splashing behaviour very near us is probably not based on some type of protective intent because the splash is very feeble and it might not be heard by anyone upstream or downstream (it cannot really serve to warn the kit’s relatives).
The juvenile must have sneaked up on us underwater (because I never see it swimming toward us) and then the kit must have stayed there observing us until it has decided it was feeling bold enough to signal that it was there all the while (because, usually, we are quite oblivious to the fact now that it is still quite very dark in the mornings).
I assume the juvenile had done this before but without the tail splashing and thereby without communicating its presence to us (whereby we never reacted to it because it swam off, once again, unnoticed).
The splashing was likely the ultimate test of the juvenile’s commitment to its exploratory mission.
The juvenile had studied us closely and it apparently wished to study our responses, as well.
I believe that currently these juveniles (last year’s kits) might be overcome with a little sense of boredom that results in curiosity and a desire to discover the adventures that the world offers.
They are no longer ‘confined’ to the vicinity of the burrow and they might have been travelling with the adults more extensively for some weeks (growing accustomed to the joys of increased mobility and subadulthood).
On the other hand, it is quite possible that their foraging needs are lower than those of the adults.
Beavers reach adult size by approximately their third year but even adults do not stop growing (albeit at a much slower rate).
Thus, the size different between a yearling and an older adult (parent) might be quite big, especially, if the adult has seen some 5 – 6 summers.
One of these families resides on a highly optimal range and their territory appears to be quite large.
I should guess that they are one of the oldest families on our river and the pair (parents to the juveniles) must have some years in its count.
Thereby, the parents might need to forage for longer duration in order to satisfy their metabolic requirements which, in the female, would be augmented due to pregnancy.
I have already observed kits during winter fidgeting around an adult who is quietly and patiently consuming branches on an ice patch near the waterline.
Some of the difference might be balanced out due to the juvenile’s undeveloped foraging skills (the juvenile might not be as efficient at foraging as adults are and therefore the juvenile might need to gather the resources longer despite the lower metabolic needs).
Also, juveniles do not merely invest in the body size they have currently reach.
They invest in growth and development, as well.
It is not known whether nutritional requirements by growing subadults are comparable to those of adults (e.g., gravid or nursing females).
But I suppose that the juvenile still has some time on its paws.
In winter, the kits would have been perhaps contented by spending their spare time near the burrow.
But now when they have grown into their subadult role, they must be seeking other pastimes.
One of such pastimes is apparently sneaking up on me and my dog.
But other pastimes (which I do not get to observe) could also be related to exploration, observation, investigation and testing of one’s responses and abilities.
I believe that the relatively feeble splash given by the juvenile very close to us (2 – 5 metres from us, on our side of the river, perhaps 0.5 – 1 metres from the shore) is intended to draw our attention but, ultimately, the objective is internal – the juvenile wants to see what happens and what their own responses (physically, emotionally) would be.
It is quite interesting because I do not think that animals reinvent the functions behind certain behaviours easily.
Behaviours are multifunctional, i.e., the same action can serve several different purposes according to context.
But, overall, we are not a threat, nor we are ‘a neighbour species’, nor we are other beavers (contexts in which I have observed/overheard beavers slapping their tails).
In order for the juvenile to apply this behaviour in the context of testing its courage and exploring what consequences would be brought about by its action, I suppose that the internal motif behind the behaviour must be derived from the earlier functions that the behaviour has served.
So far I do not think that juveniles as an age/social group have been using tail-slap in contexts other than giving a warning to the rest of the family.
However, in our context, the warning (as explained above) is not efficient and due to the fact that the juveniles repeat splashes in order to augment their audial impact, I find it hard to believe that the juvenile is unaware of the said inefficiency.
Is this behaviour based in some other sense of protection directed toward others?
The juvenile is not protecting itself (it is not a message that carries the meaning of ‘do not come near’ because the best method of self-defense would have been slipping off quietly underwater, unnoticed, as before).
One (entertaining) explanation is that, in its mind, the juvenile has reversed our roles.
Namely, it has been stalking us for a while and we have been blissfully ignorant.
Beavers do not stalk their forage, and the context in which they would observe someone from a secluded position for longer periods would be that of predatory threat (approaching an object/subject of threat from distance).
As the juvenile has failed to feel intimidated by us and we have not been acting very predator-like but instead we have been acting like perhaps innocent, rather ignorant juveniles who are oblivious to the presences observing us in direct proximity, the juvenile might have mixed up our roles in its mind.
The juvenile might have felt that this had to be a predatory type of situation but we do not act as predators and if anyone acts like a predator, it is the beaver juvenile itself 🙂
Thereby, the juvenile might have used the splash to sort of dispel the illusion that the juvenile itself was the threat (it might have warned itself against itself or, in a confused manner, it might have projected its identity onto us while projecting our identity onto itself warning us (the juvenile beavers) against itself (the predator)).
I feel sympathy for the little buddy who might have frightened itself by perceiving itself as a highly successful predator stalking nearer and nearer its non-vigilant prey.
A more flattering assumption would be that the beaver juvenile was including us into its perception of group and that the juvenile was using the behaviour to ‘warn us’ although the true purpose was to establish communication with us.
I think that animal babies find it easier to interact with other species in a more flexible manner because the functions and contexts of their behaviours are not yet as cognitively fixed.
I suppose that very young animals, before they acquire the true meaning behind certain actions, are capable of merely expressing any behaviours in almost any contexts (guided not by intent but by psychological and perhaps associative state, i.e., any behaviour that vaguely fits the overall emotional context, is good enough to be applied).
When animals mature, they learn what the behaviour means and I think that thereafter it is more difficult for them to be flexible in their responses because they are advised on the proper contexts.
They must be far more creative in order to invent new communication methods through the use of the old pathways in novel contexts because their behaviour must be grounded in a purpose which is no longer fixed by an emotional state but also by physiology and cognition (after its full physiological mechanism has been experienced by the developed juvenile/adult, the behaviour must be meaningful and ‘reasonable’).
If the juvenile beaver was, on an emotional level, eager to challenge its own courage and perhaps to establish a friendly or at least mutually curious contact with us, the juvenile might have applied the best method (safest in terms from distancing itself) available – tail-slapping.
As tail-slapping, during this stage of juvenile’s development, has become embedded in the context of warning one’s group, the juvenile might have tried to send us a warning against some disturbance that the juvenile perceives we have in common.
As, theoretically speaking, we are the disturbance, the juvenile might have warned us against our own presence (by simultaneously perceiving us as threat and affiliates).
On the other hand, there might be some other disturbance that the beaver thinks we are collectively exposed to and that the beaver has evoked to send us a communication signal.
At the time, there were no other immediate threats that I could recognize.
But perhaps the juvenile perceived our situation differently than we did, and it would be very interesting to understand what threat, according to the little buddy, we had in common.
I do not have definite answers at the moment but there are some light disturbances and our nearby factory has resumed loud activity which affect both us and the beavers.
Or perhaps (if the tail-slapping behaviour is a response to immediate threat and not to background nuisance) the beaver wished to tell us that we had been spending too much time on the shore where it was not safe and the juvenile recommended that we returned into the water or kept better watch of the inland dangers.
This is a curious game that we rather enjoy.
Notes by Ieva 