The beaver built the dam and he was done. Really done. Over it.
But the creek continued. It rushed by, removing twigs and eroding rocks, slowly yet steadily undoing the beaver’s work. The creek was subtle, secretive and therefore effective. It attracted little attention, and projected an image of natural innocence, even beauty.
The beaver flapped his big flat tail, splashing water around, embracing pure joy. Another pebble came loose from the dam. A few small branches were tugged loose by rushing water. Without even giving the dam a glance, the beaver continued to play.
The creek became more intense, the water more forceful. The beaver became more playful. Both were going about their business with wild abandon.
Finally the water broke through completely. The creek rushed free. The water crashed past the creek into a tributary of the river and downstream to the village. A wall of water blasted into the center of Blankville where all the people were playing gleefully and ignoring the bigger events.
They were drowned. The beaver and the creek didn’t know or care.
Moral: Mind your own dam business. But remember that anything coming your way IS your business.