It’s hard to find people who admit they like us muskrats unless, of course, they’re discussing fur coats. For obvious reasons, I really don’t like talking about that much!
Here’s what typically happens. Half the people see the photo above and just move right along – nothing good to see here. The other half think I am a beaver and decide I’m cool and industrious until they catch wind of the dreaded “m” word. You would think I have an odour or something.
Living with beavers is like living with the perfect sibling – you know who I mean! No matter what I do, the beaver does it better.
I perfected the slick-back look long before the 60s rolled around – the beavers do it too but wear it better with their larger, curvacious bodies.
I have beautiful teeth – the beavers creatively turned their buck teeth into an endearing smile and an enduring trendy look. Not that there’s anything wrong with buck teeth – just saying.
We build small, eco-friendly houses hidden away. While we skulk around in the reeds, the beavers live in the fancy end of the ponds in huge houses. Who knows what all goes on under the mud in those tony neighbourhoods?
I am hard working, industrious and work twice as hard as the beaver to find food. They just cut down trees and eat the branches. How hard is that?
I will admit to a little jealousy of that huge beaver tail. But do they really have to flaunt it by slapping the water for no good reason? I would never be so vane! Meanwhile I am forced to try to keep my long skinny tail under water so no one sees it.
There’s just so much injustice in my world. The beavers and I both have so many things in common. Yet the beaver gets to be a Canadian symbol and I get stuck with a rat in my name. Not that there’s anything wrong with rats – just saying.
I need to somehow get the truth out – let the world know that muskrats need a little love too.
It’s not easy being me.