The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A large, old-growth redwood tree lies on its side, hollowed out to form a massive, natural tunnel. Like, the air's pretty damp and musty, smelling of decaying wood and earth, as a few rays of late afternoon sunlight filter through the opening, casting dappled shadows on the tree's interior. Umm, a family of beavers is quietly repairing an intricately carved, ornate wooden door inside the tunnel, somehow expertly fitting tiny wooden pegs together without any visible tools or hands. Gentle, melodic bird calls fill the still air, as a lazy stream flows softly through the tree's center.