Denise Crosby: War waged on backyard intruder

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A beaver makes its way to a new home at an enclosed site in Cotswolds's Water Park, Thursday, Oct. 27, 2005. Six beavers from Bavaria were released in western England on Thursday in a second attempt to restore a species that has been extinct in the country since the 12th century. An earlier effort in 2001 flopped because the beavers failed to breed. The new batch of beavers was released into a 15-hectare (37-acre) enclosure at the Cotswold Water Park. (AP Photo / Barry Batchelor, pa) ** UNITED KINGDOM OUT NO SALES NO ARCHIVE **

Updated: December 23, 2011 8:07AM

Let me preface this by saying I’m a tree person. Would rather reside in a little house in the woods than on oceanfront property. It’s why, whenever I went missing as a kid, Mom always knew to look in the big cottonwood first. It’s why, when I became a mother myself, DCFS probably should have gotten involved because of my belief that tall oaks made much better jungle gyms than anything man could create.

All of which explains my frustration as I watch the trees on my property get taken out by critters big and small.

Five, so far, I’ve lost to the emerald ash borer, that nasty Asian bug doing some serious damage in our communities.

But this latest culprit is a whole lot bigger. And instead of boring into the wood, he’s gnawing it.

Recently a beaver destroyed a beautiful white birch growing ever so peacefully just a few feet from the back door of my family room.

The beaver, the largest North American rodent, appears to have made itself quite at home on Blackberry Creek, which runs about 60 yards behind the house. Obviously not content to feast only on the plethora of trees available along the waterway, the beavers use my backyard landscape lighting to guide them to those delectable soft woods they prefer.

Earlier this month, the orange-toothed culprit downed the tree, leaving behind one thick branch that was claimed a few nights later.

Nice to know they clean up after themselves, I guess.

We’ve done stories over the years on the proliferation of deer, coyotes, bats, raccoons and the latest, skunks. But none of these fine-feathered or furry critters have the capacity to fell every darn tree in your yard. And beavers will keep chewing away as long as there is wood available, said Bob Bluett, a biologist with the Illinois Department of Natural Resources.

According to Bluett, scientific data seem to indicate the beaver population has grown more quickly in Illinois than in any other state, thanks to their migration from the north, where dry summers have forced them to seek new waterways.

And they are “well adapted to all kinds of urban and suburban habitats,” he tells me. In other words, they don’t really care how much backyard lighting you have. Once the TV is off and you’ve retired for the night, they’ll feel perfectly at home chewing down the tree right outside your bedroom window.

More than likely, he says, it’s a couple of beavers at work in my yard — probably in search of food, rather than building supplies. The younger ones — the parents kick ’em out around their second birthdays — also must keep gnawing on wood to wear down their teeth, which continue to grow throughout their lives. Experts say they’ll spend at least 12 hours at night cutting trees, repairing dams and working on their lodges. And they are not only busy beavers, they are quick: One family could easily cut down 400 trees in a single year.

So what’s a tree-loving homeowner to do?

Bluett says wrapping 4-foot-high wire around the trunks is the quickest, if not the most attractive or permanent of solutions. Trapping can be tricky. You can apply for a license (with a couple of fees attached, of course) or turn the work over to a pro, which could run hundreds of dollars.

My son said something about a .22 and a beaver hat. But Bluett points out shooting the critters is not allowed unless the animal is proving an immediate threat to you or your property.

So I tell him about the 50-pound beaver that almost killed a bulldog in the neighborhood a couple years ago. He assures me these creatures are not aggressive unless provoked; and more than likely, the pooch was the one trying to pick a fight.

“Thanks for all the info,” I tell the very nice biologist. “Know thine enemy, I guess.”

Mr. Beaver, indeed, has become my foe. Not yet sure what the war strategy will be. But this is one battle I’m really sinking my teeth into.