And the beaver proclaimed to himself, “Forest, trees, wood, paper and owing to the fact I am presently situated on this fine piece of water color paper I can paint as I choose. My colours can move and play and sing across the flatness. They can float and undulate and dance toward the sky and embrace the rocky surface and the flowing river. The water and pigment can fuse together and express a sentiment of innocence and beauty and naivety. I can speak with color, shape, form and texture. Oh to be an artist. But I hear my mother calling me to help my brothers and sisters with the building of the dam to stop the fast flow of water. Then we have to construct our safe house , I mean lodge.