Come at dusk. Stay quiet.

And maybe you can see a little nature.

I live in a small town where a new stop sign gets us all talking. So when a beaver (or beavers) started to build a dam in a creek just off the main street, the town was buzzing.

Beaver dams can last up to 100 years. They can also create wetlands, upon which some 60% of threatened species rely. But try telling that to people whose homes are near beaver dams, which can also cause costly flooding. (Also? Beavers are not dainty about destroying trees.)

Still, we have added to our daily routine “check on the dam,” which is an engineering marvel. Most days — so long as we check at dusk and stay quiet — we get to see at least one beaver and sometimes two gliding through the dark water ready to do some creating.

One recent evening, as the sun slipped behind the ridge, we stood watching the beaver work. A nerdy friend (and this is important because everyone in the group is nerdy, but the friend is more so) walked up. He’d seen the dam and watched a documentary so he could education himself, and then he proceeded to share the documentary with us frame-by-frame. Another woman drove up and parked. Her property is just downstream and she said that though she hates the sight of all the trees the animals have destroyed, she is fascinating by the dam. A third woman came by. She lives in Fairfield, but owns property in town. (We later agreed that she looks like Miss Jane of “Beverly Hillbillies,” but we didn’t share that with her.)

It struck me as we all stood there discussing nature that we would probably not see each other again (except for a handful of us) but that for a moment, we were all Junior Scouts intent on Learning More. It felt like a moment of peace in a sea of nonsense. For a moment, we were all kids again, playing outside until the streetlights blinker on.

And then they did, one by one up the street. And though most of us are too old to have mothers waiting by the front door, we disbanded and wandered home.