Over the centuries, beavers have earned themselves a reputation for industry, so much so that in the English language 'to beaver away' means to work very hard, and workaholics are more affectionately known as 'eager beavers'.

Rare is the beaver who is chastised for being lazy and standoffish, but this is what has happened to one in Chelmsford, Massachusetts.

The story began 18 months ago when a beaver by the name of Nibi was found all alone by the side of a road. A soft-hearted passer-by called the Newhouse Wildlife Rescue Centre in Chelmsford.

The centre tried hard to find Nibi's parents. However, one beaver looks much like another, and they had no luck. 

Resident in the wildlife centre, Nibi turned out to be something of a social climber, refusing to bond with other beavers, and preferring to pass the time of day with human beings.

Rather than fending for herself in the wild, Nibi seemed happier to stay on at the centre. One can hardly blame her? 

Instead of living in the cold and damp, and having to construct her own shelter, she was handed luxury five-star accommodation, consisting of a spacious enclosure, compete with its own yard and pool.

Nibi's set-up sounds more luxurious than most hotels. These days, even quite posh 'boutique' hotels are apt to offer only a poky shower, no bath, and a single chair. In fact, 'boutique' generally turns out to be a euphemism for 'cramped and overpriced'.

Small wonder that Nibi fast got used to putting her feet up and tucking into delicious fresh food as doting humans waited on her morning, noon and night.

And she might have remained at the centre, happy as Larry, if the puritanical Massachusetts State Department for fish and wildlife hadn't got wind of her residency. 

Nibi first came to the attention of the department when the centre applied for a permit for her to be registered as an 'educational beaver', so that she could tour schools, libraries and town halls. 

But the authorities were having none of it. They not only rejected her permit, but ordered Nibi to be released back into the wild.

And so Nibi became the centre of a court case. One side argued that beavers could only be truly happy and beavering away in the wild, building dams out of twigs, and so forth, and mixing with other beavers. 

The other side argued Nibi would be much happier swanning around in her own luxury enclosure, complete with room service and complimentary snacks.

'It's very difficult to consider releasing her when she only seems to like people and seems to have no interest in being wild or bonding with any of her own species,' argued Jane Woodhouse, founder and president of the Newhouse centre.

Nibi's case is eerily reminiscent of Phillip Schofield's, but in reverse. 

Schofield spent most of his natural life in an artificial studio enclosure, away from fresh air and sunlight, with a sofa and kitchen, tended by human beings. But after many decades, it ended in tears.

He was then released into the wild and forced to fend for himself on a desert island, making a shelter out of sticks and scavenging for fruit and nuts.

Unlike Schofield, Nibi began her life in the wild, obliged to nibble and forage and make small talk with other beavers. She clearly didn't take to it, and yearned for the high life. 

Happily, a stroke of good fortune catapulted her into the Newhouse Wildlife Rescue Centre, ready to enjoy a celebrity lifestyle, tended by adoring minions, and lounging about in the beaver equivalent of a breakfast TV set.

Happily, Nibi is now being allowed to follow her dreams: last Thursday, the governor of Massachusetts declared that 'Nibi has captured the hearts of many of our residents, mine included' and let her remain in her plush enclosure at the centre.

Good news for Nibi. But what about poor old Phillip Schofield? If I were him, I'd dress up as a beaver and make a bee-line for Massachusetts.