An otter... against the odds

Tonight, at the usual spot, I finally saw the otters I'd been told about.

Sitting on a silty 'beach' by the river, enjoying the peace, the birdsong, the absence of people, the occasional splash of a fish on the water. I was aware of, but not particularly expectant from, some splashing in the water. Seeing a lonely swallow flying earlier had heightened a sense of... I don't know really. It was kind of melancholic in a way.

Turns out that, having told myself it wouldn't be, the splashing was actually an otter. Or a pair of them, which proceeded to tumble their way across the far bank of the river in front of me over the next ten minutes or so. Otters are something magical, slightly other worldly, elusive; it feels like a privilege to see them, as if they are letting their guard down and inviting you to watch their secret show. I was scared to move so stood, rooted to the spot, as they constantly dove in one beautiful motion, with the back arching as they ducked and the tail slipping in after. At one point one of the pair half-climbed the bank as if exploring the land, whiskers glinting in the evening sun.

For some reason I felt tears in my eyes and my pulse quickening. In some respects, this was euphoria at seeing such wonderful creatures in what was already a peaceful, strangely 'real' evening after a day at a desk. A roe deer or two grazing the rough grass behind the otters added to the effect. But after thinking a lot recently about a wilder national park, one where nature comes first or at least equal, it also felt saddening watching the otters. I imagined the otter hounds that not long ago chased these beautiful beings, and why? Because humans seem unable to co-exist with anything moderately large. I thought about the pesticides, chemicals and litter that were no doubt in the river they swam in, simply because of greed, ignorance and selfishness. They seemed to me lonely, beautiful and enchanting yes, but only parts of what once was, a fully functioning, natural, wild ecosystem now stripped down and malfunctioning because of us.

Another roe deer, a young buck, watched me warily walk past on the way home. It's undeniable that they're handsome, with trembling eyes and smart antlers, but the pessimist in me saw even further evidence of what we've lost in the three nonchalant, quite unperturbed deer sharing the fields, safe in the knowledge we've removed all their predators.