LA_MERC_Wetzny
July 12th, 2007, 02:30 PM
Huge Beaver…
So I’m out at my place in Kingman yesterday, taking advantage of cooler temps and a little cloud cover to cut more cedar and ready an area for some horses. After about three hours of cutting I finish up and decide to go fishing for a couple of hours as the wind lies down and the sun starts to set.
As I’m peacefully catching and releasing bass, and drinking a couple of cold ones, out of the corner of my eye I catch a glimpse of a large wake swimming nearby. Well I know immediately it’s a large and pesky Beaver!! Having recently dispatched of a couple of them in March it is now time for others to move into my cozy pond and take over for the beaver I hammered in March.
Needless to say it’s the one time Mike and I are unarmed!! No sidearm and not even a .22 in the boat! The large furry animal senses we are defenseless and of no threat to him and essentially starts swimming laps not 20 yards from the boat; back and forth, back and forth. Mike and I are cussing under our breath as we continue to fish and watch the vile beaver taunt us! Now he’s just lazily swimming around the boat mocking us! Is there nothing we can do? Then it hits me. Our caretaker is out cutting alfalfa, we passed his parked truck on the way into the farm, and he’s ALWAYS got a .22 in the cab. We can slowly motor back to shore, climb into my truck drive off the farm and down the road a couple of miles to Tony’s parked truck and grab his .22 rifle. It’s our only chance to deal with this varmint and stop the horrific taunting he’s dealing us. By this time he was out of the water, not 50 yards from me, standing up on a log EATING my precious trees!! Oh the HUMANITY of it!!
We make it over to the shore without spooking our little friend and head down the road in search of the ‘final solution’ for this tree-killing-hole-digging-pond-draining machine. There is plenty of daylight; the question is will our target still be there when we get back? Mike say’s “not a freaking chance, he’ll be back in his hole when we get back.” Respectfully and tactfully I disagree “you’re f***ing stupid, did you see how calm he was? He’ll be right where he was when we got off the pond.” :stick
After arriving back at the farm with Tony’s trusty Winchester .22 and knowing he doesn’t shoot it much we decide to make sure it’s sighted and ready to roll. Quickly we get it shooting straight and a quick wipe of the little scope has us ready to deal a lethal blow to our nemesis. Sure enough we get back out to the pond and the little bastard is basically still in the same spot gnawing on my precious bass cover! We get in the boat and slowly move toward the huge hairy beaver, I take a look through the scope, it’s so small I can’t really locate my aim point on this log-eater. I take a quick look through my binoculars and see the tree-chewing bastage is sitting on a log half in the water with his head facing to the right; nearly broadside. I raise the Winchester and draw bead on an area right behind his head (by now Mike’s cut the trolling motor and were slowly drifting toward our quarry, about 50 yards out) I pull the trigger and that fat beaver jumps about 3 feet in the air and lunges for the high grass of the nearby bank. Only he can’t get into the grass, now he’s thrashing/swimming through the shallow water diagonal and broadside to me. He’s hurt bad, I hit that smelly beaver hard with the first shot and now I’ve got him right in front of me with no where to hide. Quickly I draw a bead (best to two-eye shoot on a moving target) and cap off two quick rounds into his side and head. Mike’s hollering “Kill it! Kill it!!” I tell him “calm down he’s dead, look at the air bubbles pouring out of his face!” The beaver is toast, and quickly sinks to the bottom.
Mike gives me a quick high five and tells me “you blasted the hell outta that beaver, nice going, you really taught that beaver a lesson.” We retrieved the beaver carcass from the pond and motored back to shore and snapped a few beaver shots!
This thing weighed between 40 and 50 lbs. It was the largest beaver I’ve ever dealt with and I was happy to see it expire. I hope I never see a beaver that big again.
So I’m out at my place in Kingman yesterday, taking advantage of cooler temps and a little cloud cover to cut more cedar and ready an area for some horses. After about three hours of cutting I finish up and decide to go fishing for a couple of hours as the wind lies down and the sun starts to set.
As I’m peacefully catching and releasing bass, and drinking a couple of cold ones, out of the corner of my eye I catch a glimpse of a large wake swimming nearby. Well I know immediately it’s a large and pesky Beaver!! Having recently dispatched of a couple of them in March it is now time for others to move into my cozy pond and take over for the beaver I hammered in March.
Needless to say it’s the one time Mike and I are unarmed!! No sidearm and not even a .22 in the boat! The large furry animal senses we are defenseless and of no threat to him and essentially starts swimming laps not 20 yards from the boat; back and forth, back and forth. Mike and I are cussing under our breath as we continue to fish and watch the vile beaver taunt us! Now he’s just lazily swimming around the boat mocking us! Is there nothing we can do? Then it hits me. Our caretaker is out cutting alfalfa, we passed his parked truck on the way into the farm, and he’s ALWAYS got a .22 in the cab. We can slowly motor back to shore, climb into my truck drive off the farm and down the road a couple of miles to Tony’s parked truck and grab his .22 rifle. It’s our only chance to deal with this varmint and stop the horrific taunting he’s dealing us. By this time he was out of the water, not 50 yards from me, standing up on a log EATING my precious trees!! Oh the HUMANITY of it!!
We make it over to the shore without spooking our little friend and head down the road in search of the ‘final solution’ for this tree-killing-hole-digging-pond-draining machine. There is plenty of daylight; the question is will our target still be there when we get back? Mike say’s “not a freaking chance, he’ll be back in his hole when we get back.” Respectfully and tactfully I disagree “you’re f***ing stupid, did you see how calm he was? He’ll be right where he was when we got off the pond.” :stick
After arriving back at the farm with Tony’s trusty Winchester .22 and knowing he doesn’t shoot it much we decide to make sure it’s sighted and ready to roll. Quickly we get it shooting straight and a quick wipe of the little scope has us ready to deal a lethal blow to our nemesis. Sure enough we get back out to the pond and the little bastard is basically still in the same spot gnawing on my precious bass cover! We get in the boat and slowly move toward the huge hairy beaver, I take a look through the scope, it’s so small I can’t really locate my aim point on this log-eater. I take a quick look through my binoculars and see the tree-chewing bastage is sitting on a log half in the water with his head facing to the right; nearly broadside. I raise the Winchester and draw bead on an area right behind his head (by now Mike’s cut the trolling motor and were slowly drifting toward our quarry, about 50 yards out) I pull the trigger and that fat beaver jumps about 3 feet in the air and lunges for the high grass of the nearby bank. Only he can’t get into the grass, now he’s thrashing/swimming through the shallow water diagonal and broadside to me. He’s hurt bad, I hit that smelly beaver hard with the first shot and now I’ve got him right in front of me with no where to hide. Quickly I draw a bead (best to two-eye shoot on a moving target) and cap off two quick rounds into his side and head. Mike’s hollering “Kill it! Kill it!!” I tell him “calm down he’s dead, look at the air bubbles pouring out of his face!” The beaver is toast, and quickly sinks to the bottom.
Mike gives me a quick high five and tells me “you blasted the hell outta that beaver, nice going, you really taught that beaver a lesson.” We retrieved the beaver carcass from the pond and motored back to shore and snapped a few beaver shots!
This thing weighed between 40 and 50 lbs. It was the largest beaver I’ve ever dealt with and I was happy to see it expire. I hope I never see a beaver that big again.