There they were. Scattered all over the grass were wilting green leaves from a towering oak tree. They were some of the first to fall this year, having yet to transition into oranges and browns as so many leaves do in autumn.
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.
