Often, while rearranging her honeypots, Bea would do her BRAIN exercise. During these quiet moments, she would remember to thank the maker of the beaver, especially talented woodcarving beavers. She believed that the maker had Timothy paddle into her life for many wonderful reasons. He was, foremost, a woodcarver. As time passed, he began to carve more and more furniture for her humble cave. The very handsome cupboard which held her most precious honeypots, the very sturdy stepstool that she used for her rigorous exercise program, and the very ornate clay pots were all made by him.

One time, when she was vigorously doing her stepstooling and weightlifting, the weights got too tippy and went crashing to the floor. She was so upset, she immediately stopped all of her other exercises and began her on guard exercise; her fears were back. She didn't exactly understand why she was feeling so unsafe but had an idea it had to do with when she was little and others used to call her clumsy bear.

Because she was so focused on not being criticized, her fears got in the way of her thinking and she forgot to do her notice exercise and stumbled over a root hidden by the thick soft layer of pine needles. Good thing it was a very thick blanket because she landed hard. But what hurt the most was the belittling laughter.

What could she ever tell Timothy? She frantically began her trying to fix the unfixable exercise. She tried to glue and stick the pieces back together with honey. Her "be-good-to-myself" treat had helped with many other problems in the past, but not this time. The jagged pieces would not hold together well enough to look like the clay pot it used to be or to even look like any clay pot.

She felt like a fragile cracked pot, ready to fall apart and never to be put back together again. She jaggedly remembered that one of the glues of a good friendship is honesty. She did her talk to the maker of truth exercise. After a very quiet moment was sure she heard the gentle slapping, sounded upon water. She knew somehow things would work out for both of them.

She immediately set off for Timothy's Pond. She found him busily planting some new young trees, which he had started with acorns and seeds from pine cones which she and he had gathered over time. When she cautiously and trustingly told him what had happened he smiled, not a sneer as she was so used to, but a "knowing" smile. Did Timothy have wisdom too?

He began to tell her of the many, many, many clay pots he had broken, or a better word would be demolished. You see, after he had finished making a nice line of clay pots and had left them to dry in the sun, he decided to cut some trees. You guessed it. And not just one tree came crashing down on the newly dried pots! And not only that time, either.

When others might get very upset about serious things, Timothy the Talented Beaver had such a wonderful way of making them seem almost funny. Bea had never been able to laugh and take things so lightly before meeting Timothy. If there were a way of knowing when a bear smiles you would be able to see the widest and most contented smile on Bea the wee bear's face. She knew that she was certainly smiling in her heart, anyway. Another fact that put her mind at rest was that beavers did not care for honey; their most favorite food was tree bark.

Now, Bea may have snacked on some fine grasses when no honey was available, but never on tree bark. That she could remember. Timothy did not have such an easy time getting at it. The best and most tender bark was at the top of the hardwood trees and since he couldn't climb way up here, he regretfully had to cut down a lot of trees. One of the reasons he made sure to plant some new ones was that he was concerned that someday there wouldn't be any trees left, and he did not want to be responsible for that. Bea had an excellent idea