All that week Miena sought Dooro out whenever he rested on the bank. This was partly because the other ducks left her alone when she was with him and partly because he was so happy to see her. They would discuss whatever came to mind, which could be about some difference between ducks and beavers, or the relative threat of such enemies as bear and cougar, or even where they might end up if they flew or swam in one direction forever.
Then one morning Dooro invited Miena to accompany him while he worked. She paddled beside him as he swam gracefully and powerfully closing his forepaws into fists and carrying them close to his chest as he propelled himself forward with webbed hind feet, using his tail as a rudder. When Miena dipped her head underwater for a piece of duckweed Dooro lowered his head too. Instead of ordinary eyelids, his eyelids were transparent. When he closed them it was like looking through windowpanes and he could see her with perfect clarity.
Miena felt exhilarated. She was at home in the water, her feathers providing perfect insulation, and now that she didn't have to worry about other ducks chasing her she could relax and enjoy the surroundings. She loved to paddle against the soft liquid resistance and smell the crisp snap of spring air with its hints of floral bouquet. Even better, by accompanying Dooro she felt she was participating in something important and necessary. She swam alongside him, passing other ducks and beavers, until they had reached the edge of the lake and turned into a narrow canal just wide enough for the beaver's body. She followed him to the end, about 150 feet further, and they climbed out, he shaking his fur and she fluffing her feathers.
Dooro began walking into the forest. Because his short powerful legs made him slow and awkward, he was not graceful on land as he had been in the water, Miena, too, did not glide along but walked with a gimpy waddle. Dooro passed half a dozen trees hesitating momentarily before stopping at the seventh tree to sniff the bark and open his mouth. But unexpectedly the duck sounded an alarm.
"What's wrong?" Dooro exclaimed.
Miena was emphatic. "Not that tree. There's a nest in it."
She lifted her head to point and Dooro saw that there was, indeed, a nest halfway up the tree hidden in the branches. He watched Miena fly to it.
The duck recognized the nest because she had hatched in one just like it. Although ground nests were more common, occasionally some were put in a tree. She found eight olive-green eggs nestled between soft brown feathers and wondered where the parents were. But the nest did feel warm to her feet so she realized the mother duck had only recently left and would return shortly. She rejoined Dooro who had already selected another tree.
Using his tail as a stool on which he could sit upright, Dooro gripped the trunk in his forepaws and began chewing the bark of the six-inch willow sapling, dropping chips as he worked. It took only 15 minutes before the tree began to sway on the verge of toppling. Taking one last bite, Dooro slapped his tail on the ground setting off distant thumps and pistol-like pops as other beavers followed suit on ground and water. Even Miena knew this was the beaver's version of "Timber!" an emergency signal that reverberates throughout the beaver colony telling others to seek the safety of water until they are sure no enemies have been attracted by the sounds of a falling tree. Dooro too returned to the canal and waited ten minutes before he got out and began dismembering the branches of the tree and chewing the trunk into pieces about three feet long. Gripping a branch in his teeth he splashed back into the canal, with Miena close behind.
The beaver was tireless and Miena accompanied him as he made 20 trips to the lake and back. He ferried the branches and trunk sections to the dam and with dexterous forefeet and strong jaws pushed, pulled and wove them into the tangled structure. Occasionally another beaver helped him work a particularly large trunk section over the top and rest it at an angle, further buttressing the back of the dam.
Because he was single-minded in his effort Door and Miena talked only occasionally. The beaver had cut down, sectioned and transported two trees to the dam before deciding it was time for a morning break. They sat on the bank watching other beavers still hard at work.
"Were you born here?" asked Miena, nibbling at some watercress that had sprung up at the water's edge.
"Yes," answered Dooro, "In the lodge at the center of the lake." He began rubbing oil on his coat from the scent glands near his tail and using the split toenails of his back feet to comb through his thick mat of underfur. "How about you, where were you born?"
"A lake close by -- one night's flight from here. I left, though. I didn't feel safe there."
"Why not?"
Miena hesitated. "That's where a snapping turtle grabbed me by my foot when I was a duckling. My parents beat at him with their wings until he let me go. If I'd been in deeper water and not so shallow at the time. . ." She shuddered as her voice faded.
"I understand," said Dooro sympathetically. "Aiera the wolf gives us grief, too, but one thing he cannot do is sneak up on us from underwater. That's why we are working so hard right now to keep the water high. Kits are being born. My mother has two new ones."
"Really, where are they? I haven't seen them," exclaimed Miena with interest.
"Oh, she will bring them out soon. They are not yet a week old, but already she is teaching them how to swim. They learn at the edge of the eating shelf inside the lodge."
"Eating shelf?"
"Oh, I forgot, you have never been inside a lodge, " said Dooro. "We have two levels. The upper level is for sleeping and the lower level slopes to the water and is for eating and a place to dry off. Would you like to see it?"
"Oh, I couldn't disturb your mother and her babies," said Miena.
"No. I will show you my lodge," said Dooro proudly. It's the smaller one near the dam. The back entrance isn't that long."
"Back entrance?
"A tunnel I made from the bottom of the pond to my lodge, maybe 20 feet long. It's a couple of feet wide. I'm sure you could make it."
"I don't know." Miena said. She didn't mind diving, but the image of a dark tunnel unnerved her.
Dooro insisted. "Come on. I will be with you." He coaxed her into the water and over to the area above his tunnel. Then they dove, Dooro leading the way.
As with all beavers, Dooro was endowed with an almost miraculous ability to stay underwater. He had outer ears he could fold shut and flaps of skin in his nose he could close to keep water out. His oversized lungs allowed him to submerge for as long as fifteen minutes and to swim underwater half a mile. When he dove his heartbeat slowed automatically and his body prepared to absorb what to other animals would be poisonous amounts of carbon dioxide. But Miena was not so endowed. Certainly she was able to dive for minutes at a time, but that was under conditions where she could see her surroundings and had immediate access to the surface. Dooro realized there was a problem well before he had reached the entrance to his lodge.
Almost halfway through the tunnel Miena panicked. Pushing against the walls with her webbed toes, she sought to swim faster but only stirred up mud, twigs and debris that clouded the passageway. And once she couldn't see she became disoriented, thrashing about in terror. Sensing trouble, Dooro turned and swam back to her, pushing and guiding her back out of the tunnel with his chest and forepaws until she was into clear water. She stopped floundering and hesitated only a moment before rushing to the surface to draw in deep breaths of air. She made her way to the bank and lay exhausted.
It didn't help that Dooro caught a disapproving glance from his father who was working on the dam. Dooro was overwhelmed with shame. "Miena," he exclaimed. "I really thought you could do it."
"Ohhhh," she gasped. "I'll never do that again. Even if I was chased by 100 turtles I could never, ever enter a tunnel again."
"I'm sorry." Dooro didn't know what else to say.
"I know you're sorry," Miena reassured him. "You just thought ducks are like beavers -- and we're not. I'm not. Just don't ever mention that horrible place again."