1975 was one fine year for the beaver fan, especially for those with a particular fondness for the Castor Canadensis—the Canadian beaver. That year marked the start of the beaver’s official role, alongside the maple leaf, as a Canadian national symbol. However, 2011 has proved to be a much more traumatic year for beaver aficionados. Nicole Eaton, a Conservative senator, has advocated that North America’s largest rodent—whom she calls a “toothy tyrant”—should “step aside” as a national emblem, and be replaced by the more “splendid mammal,” the polar bear.
Such a proposal is, I believe, as unnecessary as it is unfair. A defence of the beaver as Canada’s national emblem must therefore be raised before this anti-beaverist movement gains any further momentum.
The polar bear may be, as Sen. Eaton claims, more “majestic” and photogenic than the beaver. But national symbols are about relevance to national character, not beauty pageants. And the beaver embodies far more of what it means to be Canadian than the polar bear. Of course the polar bear is bigger and more powerful; no one is saying otherwise. But physical strength does not necessarily make for strong symbolism. The polar bear uses its strength to be a vicious predator which preys on weaker animals, sometimes even humans.
This makes the polar bear an atrocious Canadian emblem for two reasons: firstly, it seems bizarre to have a national symbol which has killed a fair few of that nation’s citizens; and secondly, having a predatory animal as the national emblem smacks of an imperial mindset reminiscent of the British lion or the American eagle—a desirable trait for those who wish for Canada to adopt a more hawkish foreign policy, but not one that reflects the reality of Canadian neutrality. The beaver, on the other hand, possesses an array of wonderful qualities which are much more akin to what many Canadians either strive for, or ought to be striving for: with their vegetarian diet and small scale logging projects, beavers are champions of sustainability; with their strong sense of family ties and monogamy, they are paragons of responsibility; and with their complex infrastructure projects which adapt the landscape intelligently to their needs, they are exemplars of innovation. A beaver may not have the same strength as a polar bear, but it is far more creative, constructive, and industrious with what strength it has: can a polar bear chop down trees with its teeth?
Even history is on the side of the beaver: the lure of valuable beaver pelts kickstarted the economies of early Canadian settlements, and fuelled the settlers’ desire to go west. With good reason it was the beaver that appeared on Canada’s first stamp, not the polar bear.
A nation should never try and escape from its past, nor should it be disloyal to its traits: replacing the beaver with the polar bear would therefore be as groundless, arbitrary, and unjust as replacing it with a walrus. Besides, Coca Cola already lays claim to the polar bear—does Canada really want to be seen aping a private company? I think not.
