The Otters Tail

Lordy just what can you say about these two 'Jawdie' leg ends

I can be a lucky swine at times often having the knack of being in the right place at just the right time, but I suppose if, if you have spent most of yor life in a/the ‘field’, as I have, then you narrow your chances down. I’ve seen that exact moment when ‘cock robin’ was snatched in mid song by an aerial assassin and the precise emergence of an emperor dragonfly and much much more over the years. I have been very fortunate with many encounters, to the extent that I do become a little blasé at times but still surprised at some of the things you encounter.

Last week I was on a dawn bat survey at the former ‘Byker Grove’ site of all places and was accompanied by swarming bats and a very inquisitive barking fox who obviously had a penchant for the ginger snaps stashed in my bag, and not an ‘Ant’ or ‘Dec’ in sight, thank god. The morning went well the last bat disappearing off site about 5am, but I had seen some behaviour I had not seen before. Bats ‘silent running’ that is we observed bats flying in total silence, just the odd barely audible click, as we presumed female bats took youngsters around the roost sites, basically showing them the ropes; followed by a mini swarm as they warmed up before going to bed, very interesting indeed.

A bat out side my house in flash and security light

Wide awake I flew up the A1 (sorry, my attempt at humour), to my next work destination a bridge crossing near Powburn where I have been working County Council for some time to alleviate the obstructions to migratory fish and otters whilst critical work is carried out repairing the weir and fish pass.

I was there by 6am and descended to the riverbank in 5 minutes for a final site check before the final stages of the work programme to complete the structure. As I approached the river through the din of crashing water was the very audible and very characteristic thin peeping whistle of an otter, hang on not one otter but at least two, youngsters??

Otter cubs wait for a parentasl titbit on a rock on the Isle of Mull

Approaching with all the stealth and guile of a polar bear after its seal pup dinner I crept over the weir sills and peered over the river and towards the edge of the weir, and there it was, the otters tail waving like a flag from beneath the rapids, up popped a head, and crunch, crunch the discernable sound of pulverised fish drifted towards me. Down again it went, squeak, squeak from the bank, up again crunch, crunch and repeat the process over. What was going on and where were the squeaks coming from this I had to discern pretty darn quick as work was due to start at 8pm that morning.


Sat in the comfort of the bucket of the on site digger, I watched the events unfold before me. Downstream was a squeak, in the rocks around the bridge apron was a squeak, in the middle was an adult otter, presumably the mother, swimming between the two, but no visible squeakers. Then there it was staring at me right in the face, the first youngster in the rocks, its whiskered face beckoning attention, the mother clearly seen always, she was trying to encourage the frantic youngster into the water with tasty treats and calls of encouragement. It clearly felt this was not the right option, in and out of the water the mother scrambled and called downstream to check on the other youngster, who incidentally was having a whale of a time by itself in the water bobbing around like a cork.

Wet otter footprints in the rocks at Powburn

Anyway, back to the youngster in the rocks and there it was now perched on the side of the water thinking this is it, now or never, shall I be an otter or stay a weasel, squeak, squeak and then gone, into the water for what may have been the very first time. Magnificent, undoubtably one of the best moments in my otter watching carear. Clambering over the attentive parent, the look of abject terror slipped from its whiskered face as they rolled their way down the pool to the other cub who greeted them wildly wondering what all the fuss was about, a dive and a titbit each and off they went on their exaulted way downstream.

'OW!! that really hurts'

Waiting a good hour I explored the rock armour to discover the den that had been used in the midst of a work zone under the very eyes of hard hats and tractors but as they say, that otters tale will have to wait for another day.



'Right thats it your gonna get it now'