Otter
“It’s the magnificant ruff of whiskers that surprises me, and the bulk of him, the fur sleek from fishing out in the loch. I am seized with joy; his eyes look through me as if I don’t exist.”
— Miriam Darlington, author of Otter Country
OTTER
Any Way In
Dip of paddle, blue of sky, murmur of campground sounds receding as pine-bristled slopes slip by. Pale yellow silty muck wavering through green waters. Chat of junco, resounding rat-tat-tat of flicker, shadow of kingfisher clicking, flick of fin. Cool air hangs above the water, sunlight beams hot and intense from above. I nose between fallen trees, my kayak awkward – a straight, unyielding sixteen feet that has none of the give and curl of most of the bodies that navigate these shores.