Beavers are booming in Britain – here’s where to find them

After a 400-year absence, beavers are back and thriving in several parts of the UK – if you know where to look

It’s a warm late summer day here in the lowlands of East Kent, and all around are signs that the season is slipping into autumn. Ripening berries are turning the hawthorn hedges a lustrous red; swallows dash above, feasting on flies in advance of migrating. But my attention is focused on elements of this scenic wetland landscape that have been engineered by an assiduous mammal: the Eurasian beaver. 
Once native to Britain, beavers were hunted to nationwide extinction by the 1500s thanks to demand for their valuable fur and scent glands (the source of castoreum, an oil used as a base note in perfumes). But back in 2002, a pair of the animals was released here at Ham Fen, a 50-hectare nature reserve on the coastal plain near Sandwich. Since then, the rodents have also returned to pockets of the country through “beaver bombing” (unlicensed releases), with Kent now having England’s largest population.
“Although ours was effectively the UK’s first beaver reintroduction, it was really a habitat restoration experiment,” explains John Wilson, the Kent Wildlife Trust warden who is showing me around. “Ham Fen is Kent’s last remnant of this habitat type, but it was drying out and converting to woodland via natural succession. We wanted to show the scientific community that this keystone species can survive here and benefit the landscape.”
Those benefits are clear to see here after two decades of beaver activity. As we walk down a squelchy trail, John points out water-filled channels dug by beavers manoeuvring through the fen, and a pool behind a dam that they’ve built in wattle-and-daub style with sticks and mud. “These structures work in tandem,” John says. “The dams slow the passage of water and the channels distribute it throughout the habitat.”
Such levels of industry aren’t to everybody’s liking. In some areas where beavers have been hard at work, farmers are concerned they may devastate land, trees and crops. Elsewhere, however, there is growing awareness that beavers can help flood-prone communities by retaining water for longer within their upstream territories. That’s something I can vouch for as our Ham Fen walk continues: the ground becomes so sodden that I abandon my shoes and proceed barefoot.
John draws my attention to oaks with skeletal branches reaching skywards – a sign that the trees are slowly dying in these waterlogged conditions. “This standing deadwood supports fungi, bats and birds,” he says, “while the willows and reeds more typical of wetlands are ideal for warblers and cuckoos.” The explosive song of a Cetti’s warbler erupts from the undergrowth, supporting his point. “Water vole and dragonfly numbers have also rebounded,” he adds. 
Despite all the tracks and signs, the one thing we don’t find is actual beavers. “Oh, we never see them here,” says John. “They’re mostly active at night. And besides, they’re impossible to observe as the vegetation is so thick. But they’re out there, living their best lives in this habitat they’ve created.”
With Natural England’s latest survey showing 51 beaver territories along the River Stour, I’m not giving up hope just yet. Surprisingly, it turns out that my best bet hereabouts lies in central Canterbury, where several beaver families have adapted to urban conditions. Although these spaniel-sized animals can be remarkably unobtrusive (especially in rivers, where reliable water levels outweigh the impulse to build dams) their presence here is certainly no secret.
As the day turns to evening, I join a small group of locals who have gathered on the riverbank near to where a stick-and-branch beaver’s lodge lies almost obscured by exuberant brambles. In a convivial air of expectation, we don’t have long to wait. An eruption of bubbles is the first sign of a beaver’s presence – then a head appears at the surface, much to the crowd’s delight. 
Arching its back, the beaver dives and appears again on a sandbank midstream, holding two fistfuls of water plants that it noisily chews before diving for more. The river is so clear that we can observe the animal’s underwater antics. Cameras whirr and enraptured people whisper together as it beavers away. Britain’s waterways may have lacked these animals for centuries, but they’re back – and judging by this encounter, they’re very much at home. 
Ham Fen offers walking tours during drier months (£35pp). Spot beavers themselves on a River Stour canoe trip (£110).