Next thing we know, they'll build an espresso bar.

Our next door neighbors are building a deck. It is awesome. Neither Carter nor Ty could build anything like this.

And, just as an observation, why is it that carpenters and handymen on HGTV have fraternity, preppy-like names but the men who come to my house to repair my washer and dryer are named "Stan" or "Jeb?"

So, anyway.

Our neighbors are constructing what could be the deck of all decks next to the pond and I suggested to them yesterday that they should seriously consider renting it out as a wedding reception location. All they need are some of those lights that you drape around the top and voila! It's time for the Chicken Dance.

M (the husband) works on the deck on the weekends and during the week when he comes home from work. I keep telling them he needs one of those big Trading Spaces canopies. There is some professional construction going on.

Because he has been outside working nearly every day building their dance floor, he has observed a lot of wildlife behavior.

Namely, beavers.

And if you are tired of hearing my beaver stories, then I recommend that you just turn away or subscribe to another blog because it appears that we are not going to be rid of them and, that being the case, I am just going to keep on, keeping on writing about them.

Still here?

Okay.

M said he has seen the beavers swimming in the pond in the late afternoon and that they suddenly appear right next to our property line, near our shed. Yesterday, D (the wife) decided she just couldn't stand it any longer and she waded in the pond to look.

The pond with the snakes. Yes, M'am.

Not even I would do that.

So she waded in the pond and found a hole along our bank. My Hubs went out there to look, too (without wading.) Sure enough. The beavers are tunneling under our shed.

Y'all, I totally opened the shed to see if they had dug a hole and set up house in there. I know there is a floor made of plywood, but plywood is no challenge for these beavers. They are insane.

It's like The Great Escape in reverse and with no Germans or POW's.

We haven't the slightest idea what we are going to do about the tunnel. If we plug up the hole, they'll just make a new one. There is a reason for the saying, "busy as little beavers."

Only it should be, "Busy as Big Beavers Who Terrorize the Neighborhood."

Just the other day, D was out cleaning the beaver dam, just as she does every morning to keep the water level low. (After all, her hubs is wading out there to put in pilings for the deck.)

When she walked over to the clean the dam, she found a sandbag. Her sandbag. From her yard. The beavers have stepped up their dam building game; they're using supplies from Home Depot.

Our concern is what the beavers are going to do once the neighbor's deck is finished. If we see them out there doing the Chicken Dance, I'll be sure to let you know.