Evenings at Mule Shoe, after dinner, Buddy and I meander down to the boat launch, his favorite drinking hole. I had a telephoto on this particular evening and hoped to get a shot of a beaver I'd seen working the opposite bank the night before. The shot of Buddy was basically an exposure test, so once I saw that I was on target, I redirected the lens up stream for a longer shot. Almost the instant I turned away, however, I heard a racket at water's edge. As I turned to look I caught a glimpse of buddy scrambling way up the bank; frightened half to death by a beaver that apparently swam up to him while he was drinking, and then slapped his tail on the water right next to his head.
The Beaver seemed oblivious to my presence and swam around for a minute or two, before finally coming to rest in the shallows.