I felt like I was the king of the fucking world whenever my mom would get back from the grocery with one of these sweet bastards. Guess I’ll be having ... whatever the hell I want, bitches.
My consistent inability to decipher if the animal I’m seeing is a beaver or a groundhog is .. maybe alarming? It’s never once been a beaver? I don’t think I even live in an area that falls within a beavers natural habitat?