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The Cowardly Beaver glides through the underbrush, stalking his prey.  Slowly, stealthily, he approaches the target.  Within striking distance, he quickly turns and runs.  After all, that is one tough looking tree. He would attack it other days, but today - he has a cold.  That's it, a cold, and he can't smell if there's maybe a lion hiding in the tree.  Better wait to attack the tree when there's a lower chance of falling lion.