In the woodland, among unruly snow-dusted branches, an unexpected movement occurred. The movement was certainly that of a bird, but it was the bird itself that made the movement unexpected.
Clumps of crescent-shaped seed pods embellished a dried plant that stood a few feet tall. The plant lined an open trail and called for a closer examination.
The ice over the pond was thinning, betraying the dark water beneath its increasingly transparent surface. A trio of beavers was there.
