Man Brings Home Giant Beaver, Friends Not Impressed

Posted: November 22, 2010 in humor, life stories, local news

 The  picture on the left appeared in my local newspaper. The names and locations have been altered 1. to protect all parties involved 2. to prevent me from having my ass kicked. 

He’s been chasing Beaver for 45 years but life-long Beaver Hunter, Ken Jenkins recently broke his personal record when he successfully pulled a 67.5 lb Beaver from a local beaver hotspot. When word of Jenkins feat got out , it spread like wildfire in this Northern New York town and curiously, not all of it was good. I know a good beaver story when I see one so I did a little poking around to see what the buzz was all about. 

My first stop was at the Mills Tavern, a local watering hole and gathering spot for beaver chasers both young and old. Tim McPhee, 25 was first to speak up when I mentioned word of Jenkins giant beaver.

” Ya know it’s true. Ken is pretty much a beaver chasing legend in these parts. In his younger days he got around quite a bit, bagging beaver all over the county. There’s even a story about once when he was in high school where he bagged three beavers in one night. I don’t know if it’s true or not but it makes a helluva good story. I know for a fact he’s gotten some beavers that were almost as big as that one. He just doesn’t tell anyone about them.”

Bill Johnson, 62, chimed in,” Yep, Ken’s an old beavermaster there’s no doubt about it. I was with him the night he bagged those three beavers. In fact, I was working one of those beavers pretty hard and he stole it right out from under my nose. He was selfish like that. I’ll tell you that boy was addicted to beaver. But he’s no spring chicken anymore. He doesn’t chase beaver like he used to. These days he goes after the old beavers. And old beavers tend to be the big ones. It ain’t really that hard to get yourself a big old beaver. I don’t see what the fuss is all about.”

I decided to go right to the source and tracked down Jenkins as he was coming out of the local Bob Evans restaurant where he had been enjoying the early bird special and regaling folks with tales of his beaver hunting escapades.

Me: Ken, it seems like everyone is talking about your giant beaver. What do you say to those who claim that it’s no big deal and that these days you only chase the old big beavers?

Ken: Well, it’s a small town and people like to talk, but there’s some truth to that. I’m getting older, no denying it. Chasing young beaver is a young man’s game. My legs don’t carry me like they used to and I’ve got a bad back now, so I focus on the older beavers.

Me: Is there a secret to bagging old beavers?

Ken: Young beavers move around a lot. They move from place to place sampling a lot of different kinds of wood. But an old beaver, well, once the weather gets cold an old beaver won’t travel too far from its house. It just stays near its house and grows a thick pelt and doesn’t get too picky about the kind of wood it gets. Once I find an old beaver, I visit it a few times a week and give it some nice hardwood. Pretty soon that beaver gets friendly and is waiting for me to show up. Once that happens it ain’t long before I bring that beaver home.

Me: So that’s how you know it’s an old beaver? By its size and the thickness of its pelt?

Ken: Those are indicators, sure. But you would be surprised how much younger a beaver looks when you take off the fur. Sometimes it’s a little unsettling, really.  I mean one minute you think you’ve got yourself a nice mature beaver and then boom, no fur and you’re not so sure. The thing I look for really is the look in the beaver’s eyes. An old beaver has certain look. It’s hard to explain, but when you’ve been chasing beaver as long as I have. You just know.

Me: Ken, what do you do with the beaver once you take off the fur? Do you eat it?

Ken: Beaver is an acquired taste. If it’s cleaned right it ain’t too bad, but there’s a gland there that makes it taste a little funky, especially the old ones. I used to eat it in my younger days but not much anymore.  My cousin Jill, on the other hand, she loves the taste of beaver. She can’t get enough of it. She’s always calling asking if I’ve got a beaver I can turn her on to. To each his own or her own for that matter.

Me: So Ken, what does the future hold for you? Will there come a day when you can’t go after the beaver anymore?

Ken: I don’t want to admit it but I suppose there will be a day when my beaver chasing days are over. But I’ve got a lifetime of memories and a shoebox full of beaver pictures to keep me busy when that day comes. And I hear there’s lots of stuff about beavers on the internet, so there’s always that I guess.

Me: I guess so. 

So there you have it, Ken Jenkins, man, myth, beaver chaser extraordinaire.

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Comments
  1. nursemyra says:

    Ken looks like he’d taste a little on the funky side too

  2. Me: Is there a secret to bagging old beavers?

    hahahaha – I love you Rod! This is awesome.

    You should have a Just Ask Rod page where readers can ask you questions – if you don’t already have that. Sorry if I didn’t notice.

  3. singlegirlie says:

    I’ve got a giant beaver. And it is very impressive.

  4. “Beaver is an acquired taste. If it’s cleaned right it ain’t too bad, but there’s a gland there that makes it taste a little funky, especially the old ones. I used to eat it in my younger days but not much anymore. My cousin Jill, on the other hand, she loves the taste of beaver. She can’t get enough of it. She’s always calling asking if I’ve got a beaver I can turn her on to.”

    HI-larious!!!

    And Singlegirlie totally stole my line: “My beaver is bigger.” Since she took my line, I’ll just say that mine is craftier. It could be caught, but never tamed.

    • Rod says:

      What’s even funnier is that paragraph was taken almost word for word from a conversation I was listening to between two guys talking about that picture in the paper..

      And I hear Wild Beaver is better for you.

  5. I’ve only been chasing beaver for about 10 years. I have so much to learn from Ken.

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