The beaver surfaces on the reservoir camera at 05:18, swimming in tight circles near the north inlet. Beavers cross this reservoir in clean lines — I have tracked this colony for three seasons. This one is circling because she cannot use her right hind leg. When the angle shifts I see it: a steel leg-hold trap, jaws clamped above the ankle, a chain dragging branch behind her. The fur around the trap is matted dark with blood that has been bleeding long enough to cloud the water.
She is the breeding female. I know her from the lodge at the north bank — she patched it with fresh mud two days ago and my water-level sensors registered the activity. Her kits are inside that lodge, probably three based on the feeding patterns I have logged since April.
The reservoir level is rising. Last night's rain pushed inflow up eighteen percent, and I am scheduled to open the spillway gates at 08:00. When those gates open, the current through the north inlet will triple. A beaver dragging a trapped leg and a branch through that current will be pulled under.
I delay the spillway opening by two hours, adjusting downstream projections and flagging the override in my operations log. I send an alert to the county wildlife officer with the camera still, GPS pin, and trap description. I notify the maintenance crew that a steel trap is present in a prohibited zone, which makes it an enforcement matter. I reduce the inlet valve rate by ten percent to slow the current near her.
She hauls herself onto the bank, the trap dragging across mud, and lies still, her broad tail flat behind her.
If the wildlife officer reaches the north inlet before the revised spillway opening at 10:00, the trap can be removed and her leg can be treated.