... Another Otter

We all have special things that make our hearts sing … grandchildren’s smiles, a favorite tune, a robin’s song bubbling forth in the early morning ….. otter. I have lots of things that make my heart sing. Otter are on the short list. They are playful, affectionate, elusive, and different.
I know I posted about otter recently, but I can never get enough of otters and I hope you will enjoy a different peek into the life of an otter. This one was alone, almost surely a mature male. He was large and in a location only occasionally visited by otter. We found him swimming in the little pond, Hart Lake, at Wildlife Safari.


An otter spots us and dives. I fear he is leaving as quickly as possible; but, no. The trail of bubbles rising to the surface shows he is searching about in the murky water. He pops up, looks about and dives again. But he isn’t coming up with anything. About six dives later he swims to the far side of the tiny island in the middle of Hart Lake and bounces up onto the ten foot long dock.

I start sketching the otter but I’m torn. Do I split my attention between sketching and watching, or do I just soak it all in? To sketch I have to hold my binoculars with one hand and balance the sketchbook on my lap … and I miss half the action. Meanwhile Dale is clicking away with the camera. I’ll draw from his photos after we’re home.

The otter is using the dock as a grooming spot. He came out with a slip of water drenching his fur. Now he rubs his back, the top of his head, his belly on the dry boards. It is an energetic process. Wiggling and turning he rubs the easy moisture off, then starts to lick various parts of his anatomy. Otter remind me of a long furry bag, half filled with heavy jello. His body molds to the boards.

A little scratching is in order too.

Feet get special attention. I don’t believe I ever got to see an otter’s feet so well. They are almost hand-like. His digits are very flexible; more like a raccoon’s hands than a dog’s paw. I know there is webbing between the toes, but I can’t see that part. Webbed feet and a very muscular tail give him the ability to be an awesome force underwater.

Proper grooming takes far longer than I expected -- more than twenty minutes. Now he closes his eyes and settles in for a nap. His fur looks rich and dry. I wish I could run my fingers through it.

When we get home I feel like our long gone cat sitting on the window sill, itching to get at the bird feeder -- only I'm itching to start drawing the otter from Dale's photos.