Last year Chris and I went to visit puffins up close in Wales and I loved that experience so much, I promised myself to visit one new wild animal each year. This year I was influenced by my wildlife expert friends Hannah Lawson and Helen Corney, who are also fantastic local artists. Hannah’s artwork was being exhibited in our local post office and, sitting there looking at her beautiful maps of Scotland with wildlife painted on them, planted the seed in my head. I would go looking for something fluffy and cute: baby otters.
Otters are a UK conservation success story. They were on the brink of extinction in this country toward the end of the last millennium due to significant human reduction of their habitat, overhunting and pollution in rivers from lethal pesticide run-off from farms. Conservationists and politicians stepped in to ban the most harmful pesticides, cleaning up our rivers enough to help fish and other animals survive (not that you’d know it today with the sewage problem!)
Today otter numbers are slowly increasing and they can be found in every part of the UK, mainly living in fresh water rivers. Around other parts of the world they remain among the most threatened due to shrinking numbers, largely due to destruction of their habitat for farmland and towns.
They have also adapted to live in the sea on the coast, living close enough to fresh water to wash the salt build up off their fur regularly. On Hannah’s artwork was the name of a place I know well from staying there numerous times as a child, the Isle of Mull off the west coast, part of the inner Hebrides.
Chris busy with work, I set off on a mission to find these fuzzballs.
You can see otters all over the UK but it’s slightly easier to spot them along coastlines where they stand out against the water. Hannah and Helen had told me they’d seen loads of otters on Mull, and lots of sources online say the same thing. They inhabit every square mile of the island’s coast.
I suspect otters fall into the category of animal that people see all the time on the off chance when they live somewhere, but remain elusive for people like me dropping in for a short period of time hoping to spot one.
I’d read to look from a distance at low-tide among the seaweed where they like to rummage around for crabs and fish sheltering in the water. Otters are largely nocturnal or crepuscular (active at dawn and dusk, thanks for the word Helen!) but on the coast can be spotted at any time of day wandering about.
So, for the first few days of my trip, I visited different beaches, lochs and coastal spots that looked like good otter habitat. Hanging around in the fascinating, if slippery, seaweed for hours on end, trying to be as still as possible.
No luck. On one beach I thought I’d struck lucky when I saw the unmistakable scamper of a mustelid, silhouetted against the setting sun. Looking closer on my camera however, no, it was a mink! An introduced species that is causing issues for other wildlife by using the resources they need. I didn’t expect mink on Mull. Mink are much smaller, furrier and blacker than otters. Otters are chunkier, about the size of a small dog.
Later, telling the owner of the farm cottage I was staying in about my search, she suggested a local spot known to be frequented by otters. I headed down before low tide and after an hour of waiting behind a rock, through my camera lens, yes! There was the shape of an otter for the first time.
I snapped away for a few seconds with my wildlife zoom lens before it ducked away behind the rock. My first otter! Elated to have been so close, to see the brown of its fur, its lighter head, the muscular body and long pointed tail. But, I hadn’t seen it with my eyes, only in the photos. It was too much of a rush, too far away, with the light starting to go.
I held out hope to see more otters, I had a few photos, now I just wanted to see one with my eyes. To witness how they walk and behave, to form a better grasp of their size.
On my last day, I was losing hope, scanning the coast for miles and miles from the south of the island to the main town, Tobermory in the north. Nothing.
I kept looking, pausing in places to get out of the car, to walk, take in the scenery and to scan the seaweed covered rocks for the dark movement.
When searching for wildlife, be it animal or plant, I’ve learnt that it can be a needle in a haystack. You can hope for a chance encounter, and they do happen, but for real success you have to do your research. Learn about the right habitats, narrow the location down. Ask people for recommendations, often these are essential. Though quite often some people will knowingly give you false information, so be careful.
Give yourself time, wildlife is often spotted after an hour or two of sitting or standing calmly observing the landscape and habitat. Allow the wildlife to grow used to your presence, or better, blend into the scenery so they don’t spot you, standing downwind so they can’t smell you - most mammals have a very good sense of smell. Always stay far enough away to not disturb them. They were here first and are more important than a photograph.
Tracking an otter can be done looking for habitat: seaweed, low tide, close to a fresh water source, looking for their 2-3cm paw prints in sand, finding their green poo that smells of jasmine tea. I used all of this knowledge in the final hours of sunlight on my last day on Mull. Ultimately, resorting to my foolproof wildlife tracking technique: spotting a better wildlife photographer.
Driving along the coast, I noticed a photographer standing motionless, poised on the shore with a large wildlife lens like mine pointing at something. In the next second I saw, curled brown fur of two animals sleeping in the warm sunshine a way from the shore on a bed of yellow ochre seaweed. Would I have spotted them myself? I think I probably would, they stood out like two dogs or small seals asleep on a very visible rock. And they were bigger than I expected, more conspicuous and less bothered by our presence than I’d expected. But I’m grateful to that photographer, whoever he was, for drawing my attention.
Pulling in slowly, there they were, about 40-50 metres in front of me. Two otters, which means a mother and her cub, this couldn’t be better. I stayed in the car to not disturb them with noise or motion, it is their home first and foremost. I also had the fear of being ‘that person’ who scares them away. Thankfully my viewpoint was perfect. For the next 45 minutes I sat in silence, watching otters with my own eyes.
After a time, the mother otter shifted over so I could see her face with button nose. Otter eyes are at the top of their head to see above water when swimming, their bodies largely submerged. They are able swimmers, closing their nostrils and ears when underwater looking for food. Their diet consisting primarily of fish and crustaceans, alongside birds, small mammals and some plants.
At one point, the mother seemed to look right at me.
Then, the cub became fidgety, and I recognised the impatience we see in kittens, puppies and children who are waking up first and wanting slower mum and dad to get moving.
It was fun watching them enjoying the warmth of the last sun of the day.
The cub looked slightly larger and darker than the parent, which I believe suggests it is a male. And he soon decided it really was time to wake up.
Lots of yawning, scratching, preening and play fighting happened reminding me of almost every other mammal behaviour.
This allowed me to witness all kinds of details, from the healthiness of their strong sharp teeth able to break open crabs, to the fingernails on their webbed but fingered paws. Heartening, watching two wild animals enjoying life together.
Eventually, when the pup is about a year old, they will each head their own way. For now though, how privileged to share in this moment of playfulness affection between two animals as they lovingly cuddled for warmth and then set about their afternoon.
I’d gone looking for baby otters never really thinking I would be this lucky, seeing just one otter would have been enough. Spending so long in the presence of two wild animals, witnessing their behaviour and natural habitat, well, it doesn’t get better.
What a beautiful piece of writing and even more beautiful encounter! Thank you for sharing it with us. The photos are splendid... Talk about the right place at the right time!
I was sure I'd spotted an otter right here in the River Calder in the centre of Mytholmroyd. It was a female moving it's kits one at a time to a new holt on the river bank. Everyone I mentioned it to was convinced it was a mink. But I still like to think it was an otter.