The feeble, sobbing infant, still in its stroller, which now acts as a boat, soon winds down a path branching from the main river that dead-ends into a dam of prickly, spiky sticks, built and stood atop by a pack of beavers, who, with the fur at the top of their heads shaved bald in a matching look among them, soon reveal themselves, with their right claws outstretched high above their heads in salute, to be a violent Beaver-Power skinhead river gang, a look of pure wrath upon their faces as they see the inferior non-beaver baby approaching.