The Clovis hunters had vanished into the timber, taking the tension of the forest with them. James shifted his focus, shaking off the lingering unease of the Upright Apes. He needed a plan to secure his future, and he needed Gene Points fast.
Hunting massive, coordinated wolf packs was an option, but the risk-to-reward ratio was erratic. He wanted something more sustainable, something safer. He wanted to engineer a treasure trove of resources that would provide a steady stream of prey without the need for constant, high-stakes tracking.
James began his search across the lower slopes of Mount Elbert. His objective was specific: a freshwater wetland, a swamp, or a pond.
After following a winding tributary for several miles, he broke through a thicket and discovered a wide, stagnant pond. The trees lining the shore were in a state of absolute ruin. Their trunks were marred by deep, wedge-shaped gouges, as if a giant had attacked them with a dull axe. Many had been felled entirely, leaving behind nothing but raw, splintered stumps.
James recognized the handiwork immediately.
He had found what he was looking for: the territory of the Giant Beaver (Castoroides ohioensis).
Visually, they were almost identical to their modern descendants, but the scale was jarring. A Giant Beaver could reach a length of 2.5 meters and weigh between 100 to 150kg—rivaling a black bear in mass. They were the undisputed heavyweights of the Pleistocene rodent world.
James crouched in the reeds, his golden eyes scanning the water.
SPLASH—
A rhythmic paddling sound erupted near a cluster of cattails. The target emerged. It looked like a groundhog that had been hit with a big light of Doraemon , possessing a massive, scaly tail shaped like a flat paddle.
But its most striking feature was the pair of orange, chisel-like incisors protruding from its jaw. These teeth were 15cm long—comparable to James's own sabers. They grew continuously throughout the beaver's life, requiring constant grinding to keep them in check.
James watched from the shadows of the nearby grove. He didn't want to eat the beaver; he wanted to exploit its greatest skill: civil engineering.
"SQUEAK..."
The beaver waddled onto the bank and began its daily grind.
SCRAPE... SCRAPE...
The sound of teeth meeting wood echoed through the quiet grove, sounding like a high-powered pencil sharpener. James watched, fascinated.
Tui~~
The beaver's head moved with the speed of a jackhammer, spitting out wood chips like a motorized chainsaw. Within minutes, a tree the thickness of a human thigh had been gnawed halfway through.
CRACK—
Then, a scene of slapstick tragedy unfolded. The tree groaned and toppled, but instead of falling away, it buckled directly onto the beaver.
James: ??
"Kid, you've got a lot of questions to answer."
Watching the process, James realized the beaver simply gnawed in a circle around the trunk, tapering the wood until gravity took over. This meant the tree could fall in any direction, including right on top of the lumberjack itself.
"SQUEAK..."
The beaver shook off the impact, seemingly unbothered by its own lack of spatial awareness, and went back to work. It grabbed the fallen timber in its massive jaws and dragged it toward the water. Once floating, the heavy wood became easy to maneuver. The beaver began ferrying its prize downstream.
James trailed it from a distance, moving through the reeds until he reached a dry patch of marshland. Here, a massive, dome-shaped lodge sat prominently in the clearing—a tangled mountain of branches and mud. But the beaver bypassed its home and continued further down the channel.
James followed, and soon, the "Great Engineering Project" of the animal kingdom came into view.
A massive beaver dam stretched dozens of meters across the tributary, effectively severing the flow of the river. The foundation was a solid base of mud and gravel, while the upper structure was a dense weave of willow, poplar, and reed stems.
In the natural world, beavers are the most prolific architects aside from coral polyps. The largest known dam in history reached 850 meters—twice the length of the Hoover Dam.
The beaver's motivation for creating dams were simple: They build them to survive.
By blocking rivers and streams, beavers turn fast, noisy water into deep, calm ponds, the exact environment they need. The biggest reason is protection. Deep water hides them from predators like American lions and short faced bears and allows them to slip in and out of their lodges underwater, unseen. In winter, those ponds are even more critical, preventing the water from freezing solid and keeping food accessible.
Using razor-sharp teeth, beavers cut trees and branches, placing them with surprising precision across the current. Mud, stones, and vegetation seal the structure until the flow slows or stops. Most of the work happens at night, and the dam is never "finished" - beavers constantly adjust it as the water changes.
But James saw the unintended consequence.
The dam acted as a one-way valve for the river's fish. They could swim downstream and enter the pond with the current, but they found it nearly impossible to leap back up the structure to head upstream. Over time, the pond became a high-density reservoir of aquatic life.
Since the Giant Beaver was a strict herbivore, it had zero interest in the fish. This place was a buffet waiting for a predator smart enough to use it.
James looked at the shimmering water, filled with trapped prey. He had found his private reservoir. All he had to do now was manage the property.