Beavers: A Dam Renaissance
03/04/2025 12:10PM ● By Jennie Lay
Author and Beaver Believer Ben Goldfarb sizes up an epic beaver damn in Minnesota. Courtesy of Ben Goldfarb.
This year’s One Book Steamboat community read is an engrossing investigation of beavers. “Eager” offers a charming profile of nature’s most crafty ecosystem engineers, served up with an insightful analysis of American history, the economy, evolving land use, biodiversity, resource extraction, and how we’re learning about resilience on a landscape that continues to be altered by climate change. The book guides us through places where beavers are keen helpers and annoying hindrances, but ultimately why it behooves us to consider more widespread coexistence with Castor canadensis, North America’s largest rodent.
In “Eager,” award-winning journalist Ben Goldfarb weaves the tale of beavers with levity and all the seriousness that such an impactful species deserves. We talked with Ben about how he connected with beavers, effective environmental journalism and becoming a Beaver Believer.
JL: What started your interest in doing a deep dive into beavers for a book? And did you start out as a Believer when you wrote this book, or did you become a Believer because of your research?BG: I grew up hiking, fishing, canoeing – activities that gave me a baseline appreciation for how cool and interesting beavers are. (I can still remember paddling a lake as a child and being startled half to death by an explosive tail-slap next to our gunwale!). But I didn’t become a true Believer until 2015, when I attended a beaver conference near Seattle, thinking it might make for a good story. At that gathering, one scientist after another got up to explain why beaver ponds and wetlands were so crucial for ecological health. Beavers weren’t just cute, fun rodents, I realized that day: They’re among the primary architects of our continent, and vital to the health of our landscapes. I’ve been obsessed with them ever since.
JL: Were you surprised that you turned up with such a long and frankly damning human history when you delved into the natural history of beavers?
BG: I knew that colonists had killed a lot of beavers in North America – perhaps several hundred million between the early 1600s and the late 1800s. Still, I was amazed by how thoroughly beavers were woven into early American history. Practically every significant event prior to the Civil War, from the American Revolution to the Louisiana Purchase to the War of 1812, was motivated at least partly by the relentless pursuit of beaver pelts. And I was astonished to learn how dramatically the industrial slaughter of beavers had changed the American landscape, through processes such as stream erosion and wetland loss. One historian even described the destruction of beavers as an “aquatic dust bowl.”
JL: Do you have a sense of what your book has done to expand or contract the Beaver Believer movement in the world? And can you share a particular community action or impact your book may have sparked?
BG: The public response to this book has been immensely gratifying. I’ve corresponded with biologists at state wildlife departments who changed their agency’s approach to beaver management after reading “Eager;” Forest Service hydrologists who devoted themselves to beaver restoration; and even private landowners who were motivated to spend their life savings on protecting beaver habitat. A couple years back, a rancher came up to me after a talk and told me he’d read “Eager,” stopped killing the beavers in his irrigation ditches, and bought copies of the book for his neighbors – who’d stopped killing their beavers! Obviously I’m just one tiny part of the vast and growing Beaver Believer movement; still, it feels good to know that “Eager” has added a couple of sticks to the dam.
JL: What’s your elevator pitch for explaining the connection between beavers and climate change resilience?
BG: In the American West, we get much of our water from the gradual melt of snowpack in the mountains. Because of global warming, though, we’re losing that snow – which means we need another way of holding water on the landscape. As it happens, there’s a certain industrious rodent capable of building thousands of little reservoirs up in the high country, storing water and gradually releasing it into our streams, rivers and irrigation ditches. Sounds pretty good to me!
JL: You’ve had a few years, including the lull of a pandemic and another successful book about road ecology, since you wrote “Eager.” Has time and ongoing conversations about wildlife changed any of your perspective on human cohabitation with beavers? Has time made you more of a Believer – or more wary of the movement?
BG: Oh, I remain fully beaver-pilled. If anything, the argument in favor of beavers has only gotten stronger since “Eager” was published. For example, when I was researching the book, I heard lots of anecdotes about beaver ponds blocking the spread of wildfire, but there was precious little peer-reviewed science documenting the phenomenon. In the last several years, however, a great beaverologist named Emily Fairfax has published some wonderful research showing that beaver ponds and wetlands create fire-proof oases that stay green even as the surrounding landscape burns – including in Colorado. Beaver ponds also filter out the ash and debris that run off hillsides after fire, protecting downstream water quality. As Emily suggests, maybe it’s time that the Forest Service change its mascot, from Smoky Bear to Smoky Beaver!
JL: You have woven some sly humor through your book, starting with a play on the idiom “eager beaver,” in your title. What role does wit play in your work and environmental storytelling in particular?
BG: We’re bombarded by bad environmental news: melting glaciers, vanishing wildlife, you name it. Gloom often feels like an appropriate response to those many problems (and I’m certainly susceptible to it myself). But I also think it’s important that we retain our capacity for hope, which is one of the things that attracted me to the beaver story in the first place. Humor and joy, in my opinion, are vital to buoying our spirits and keeping us going in the fight for nature. Plus, beavers are rodents of unusual size who cut down trees, build walls and form lakes – how can you not laugh about how wild that is?
JL: In your research, you’ve undoubtedly had some surprising beaver encounters. Have you got one particularly memorable or weird experience you can share?
BG: Because male beavers don’t have external genitalia (it wouldn’t be very hydrodynamic), the only way to tell the sexes apart is by sniffing the secretions they squirt to mark their territories. Which, more or less, is how I once found myself holding down a captive beaver and gently palpating his anal gland to squeeze a dollop of musky yellowish fluid onto a tissue. I swear this is true: Beavers whose secretions smell like motor oil are males; beavers who smell like old cheese are female. Don’t try it at home, kids.
JL: We know about the tree-chomping teeth and the big paddle-like tail, but what are some of their other amazing traits that beavers have? Got one favorite beaver fact?
BG: Here’s a good one: They have a second set of lips behind their front teeth, which they can close like a valve to seal out water. That lets them carry around branches underwater without drowning. Evolution really got the beaver right.
JL: Not everyone is enthusiastic about having beavers on the landscape – from taking out trees to flooding inconvenient spaces. How can landowners respond in ways that are good for human endeavors and the environment?
BG: Obviously I’m a beaver apologist, but even I recognize these can be tricky animals to live with – though I’d argue that it’s us, not them, that tends to be the “nuisance species.” Fortunately, we have all kinds of creative non-lethal techniques, from tree fencing to flood-reducing pipe systems called “flow devices,” to help agencies and landowners solve beaver conflicts without resorting to traps or guns. (Check out The Beaver Institute to learn more.) And when those coexistence strategies fail, we can capture beavers and relocate them to public land instead of killing them. Ultimately, beavers are worth so much more to society alive than dead – instead of persecuting these brilliant, invaluable animals, why not flourish alongside them, both for their sake and for ours?
Meet the author: Learn about Steamboat’s community read, extracurricular beaver education events (including NASA’s partnership with beaver-focused biologists), and Ben Goldfarb’s live talk at Bud Werner Library on Tuesday, March 18. www.SteamboatLibrary.org/events/one-book-steamboat.
This year’s One Book Steamboat community read is an engrossing investigation of beavers. “Eager” offers a charming profile of nature’s most crafty ecosystem engineers, served up with an insightful analysis of American history, the economy, evolving land use, biodiversity, resource extraction, and how we’re learning about resilience on a landscape that continues to be altered by climate change. The book guides us through places where beavers are keen helpers and annoying hindrances, but ultimately why it behooves us to consider more widespread coexistence with Castor canadensis, North America’s largest rodent.
In “Eager,” award-winning journalist Ben Goldfarb weaves the tale of beavers with levity and all the seriousness that such an impactful species deserves. We talked with Ben about how he connected with beavers, effective environmental journalism and becoming a Beaver Believer.
Jennie Lay: What does it mean to be a Beaver Believer?
Ben Goldfarb: To be a Beaver Believer is to have faith that a humble rodent can help us address some of our most pressing environmental problems! Beavers, of course, build dams to create ponds and wetlands, which in turn provide habitat for all sorts of creatures, from trout to waterfowl to boreal toads. We humans benefit, too: Beaver ponds store water in the face of drought, capture carbon, filter out pollution and slow down destructive wildfires, to name a few services. We Beaver Believers are folks who celebrate this keystone species and are working to restore it to its rightful place in American ecosystems. I swear we’re not a cult!
JL: What started your interest in doing a deep dive into beavers for a book? And did you start out as a Believer when you wrote this book, or did you become a Believer because of your research?BG: I grew up hiking, fishing, canoeing – activities that gave me a baseline appreciation for how cool and interesting beavers are. (I can still remember paddling a lake as a child and being startled half to death by an explosive tail-slap next to our gunwale!). But I didn’t become a true Believer until 2015, when I attended a beaver conference near Seattle, thinking it might make for a good story. At that gathering, one scientist after another got up to explain why beaver ponds and wetlands were so crucial for ecological health. Beavers weren’t just cute, fun rodents, I realized that day: They’re among the primary architects of our continent, and vital to the health of our landscapes. I’ve been obsessed with them ever since.
JL: Were you surprised that you turned up with such a long and frankly damning human history when you delved into the natural history of beavers?
BG: I knew that colonists had killed a lot of beavers in North America – perhaps several hundred million between the early 1600s and the late 1800s. Still, I was amazed by how thoroughly beavers were woven into early American history. Practically every significant event prior to the Civil War, from the American Revolution to the Louisiana Purchase to the War of 1812, was motivated at least partly by the relentless pursuit of beaver pelts. And I was astonished to learn how dramatically the industrial slaughter of beavers had changed the American landscape, through processes such as stream erosion and wetland loss. One historian even described the destruction of beavers as an “aquatic dust bowl.”
JL: Do you have a sense of what your book has done to expand or contract the Beaver Believer movement in the world? And can you share a particular community action or impact your book may have sparked?
BG: The public response to this book has been immensely gratifying. I’ve corresponded with biologists at state wildlife departments who changed their agency’s approach to beaver management after reading “Eager;” Forest Service hydrologists who devoted themselves to beaver restoration; and even private landowners who were motivated to spend their life savings on protecting beaver habitat. A couple years back, a rancher came up to me after a talk and told me he’d read “Eager,” stopped killing the beavers in his irrigation ditches, and bought copies of the book for his neighbors – who’d stopped killing their beavers! Obviously I’m just one tiny part of the vast and growing Beaver Believer movement; still, it feels good to know that “Eager” has added a couple of sticks to the dam.
JL: What’s your elevator pitch for explaining the connection between beavers and climate change resilience?
BG: In the American West, we get much of our water from the gradual melt of snowpack in the mountains. Because of global warming, though, we’re losing that snow – which means we need another way of holding water on the landscape. As it happens, there’s a certain industrious rodent capable of building thousands of little reservoirs up in the high country, storing water and gradually releasing it into our streams, rivers and irrigation ditches. Sounds pretty good to me!
JL: You’ve had a few years, including the lull of a pandemic and another successful book about road ecology, since you wrote “Eager.” Has time and ongoing conversations about wildlife changed any of your perspective on human cohabitation with beavers? Has time made you more of a Believer – or more wary of the movement?
BG: Oh, I remain fully beaver-pilled. If anything, the argument in favor of beavers has only gotten stronger since “Eager” was published. For example, when I was researching the book, I heard lots of anecdotes about beaver ponds blocking the spread of wildfire, but there was precious little peer-reviewed science documenting the phenomenon. In the last several years, however, a great beaverologist named Emily Fairfax has published some wonderful research showing that beaver ponds and wetlands create fire-proof oases that stay green even as the surrounding landscape burns – including in Colorado. Beaver ponds also filter out the ash and debris that run off hillsides after fire, protecting downstream water quality. As Emily suggests, maybe it’s time that the Forest Service change its mascot, from Smoky Bear to Smoky Beaver!
JL: You have woven some sly humor through your book, starting with a play on the idiom “eager beaver,” in your title. What role does wit play in your work and environmental storytelling in particular?
BG: We’re bombarded by bad environmental news: melting glaciers, vanishing wildlife, you name it. Gloom often feels like an appropriate response to those many problems (and I’m certainly susceptible to it myself). But I also think it’s important that we retain our capacity for hope, which is one of the things that attracted me to the beaver story in the first place. Humor and joy, in my opinion, are vital to buoying our spirits and keeping us going in the fight for nature. Plus, beavers are rodents of unusual size who cut down trees, build walls and form lakes – how can you not laugh about how wild that is?
JL: In your research, you’ve undoubtedly had some surprising beaver encounters. Have you got one particularly memorable or weird experience you can share?
BG: Because male beavers don’t have external genitalia (it wouldn’t be very hydrodynamic), the only way to tell the sexes apart is by sniffing the secretions they squirt to mark their territories. Which, more or less, is how I once found myself holding down a captive beaver and gently palpating his anal gland to squeeze a dollop of musky yellowish fluid onto a tissue. I swear this is true: Beavers whose secretions smell like motor oil are males; beavers who smell like old cheese are female. Don’t try it at home, kids.
JL: We know about the tree-chomping teeth and the big paddle-like tail, but what are some of their other amazing traits that beavers have? Got one favorite beaver fact?
BG: Here’s a good one: They have a second set of lips behind their front teeth, which they can close like a valve to seal out water. That lets them carry around branches underwater without drowning. Evolution really got the beaver right.
JL: Not everyone is enthusiastic about having beavers on the landscape – from taking out trees to flooding inconvenient spaces. How can landowners respond in ways that are good for human endeavors and the environment?
BG: Obviously I’m a beaver apologist, but even I recognize these can be tricky animals to live with – though I’d argue that it’s us, not them, that tends to be the “nuisance species.” Fortunately, we have all kinds of creative non-lethal techniques, from tree fencing to flood-reducing pipe systems called “flow devices,” to help agencies and landowners solve beaver conflicts without resorting to traps or guns. (Check out The Beaver Institute to learn more.) And when those coexistence strategies fail, we can capture beavers and relocate them to public land instead of killing them. Ultimately, beavers are worth so much more to society alive than dead – instead of persecuting these brilliant, invaluable animals, why not flourish alongside them, both for their sake and for ours?
Meet the author: Learn about Steamboat’s community read, extracurricular beaver education events (including NASA’s partnership with beaver-focused biologists), and Ben Goldfarb’s live talk at Bud Werner Library on Tuesday, March 18. www.SteamboatLibrary.org/events/one-book-steamboat.