Christmas Encounter

 

I have stated in my blog before that I am a lazy wildlife watcher. I find it hard to get up at the crack of dawn, and I would rather be tucked up in the warmth when it is dark. I am easily distracted by every living creature, and so staking out a particular species is always a challenge. In the past, I have tried to sit patiently at the bankside for Kingfishers, but this always failed; a buzzard behind me or a fox on the other bank would me draw my attention away from the Kingfisher, which would appear the minute I moved from my spotting spot.

I rely primarily on luck, providence and divine intervention when watching wildlife. I go out with no real intentions other than just a destination in mind, and let the wind take me and see what turns up.

On this Christmas Eve, I was not particularly inspired; the weather had taken a turn for the colder, and I was in a somewhat melancholic mood. My usual survey day is a Sunday; then I walk my standard route, recording all birds and animals seen or heard. Part of this walk includes the patch of land I manage, where I swap out the memory cards on my trail cameras. This Sunday, I was unable to collect the card from Otter Cam because the flood waters were too high for me to reach the camera.

With this in mind and knowing that a bracing walk is always a mood booster, I opted to pop down and collect that memory card. Despite the winter sunshine, there was a cold wind, and I decided to just take the most direct route to the camera and then head home.

As soon as I arrived, I spotted a Little Egret on the mill pond island and then a Cormorant on the river. By the camera, I spotted a buzzard and then spooked a deer in the undergrowth. At the feeding station, I saw a Great Tit and Robin. Each of these encounters lifted my mood so that by the time I reached the path, I was ready to stay out a little longer. I did not feel like walking downriver and instead opted for something I rarely ever do. I chose to carry straight on and walk by the mill pond on the peninsula managed by Saxon Mill Fishery.

It was this very whim that created a magical moment. As I neared the riverbank, I spotted a Kingfisher on a nearby branch. It was spooked by my approach and took flight, but my attention was drawn to something in the water, a dark flash of something moving behind a tree. I had a hunch, but I did wonder if it was a duck. I peered around the tree expecting to see the mallard, but there was nothing. Whatever it was had dived – a little grebe perhaps? I then noticed the telltale sign of small bubbles; my heart leapt. Otters often leave a trail of little bubbles when they swim underwater. I tried to follow the trail through the surging, muddy water, but soon lost it. I scoured both banks with my binoculars and caught a fleeting glimpse of a small otter emerging and then submerging by the far bank. I spent the next ten minutes tracking up and down the bank trying to spot it, rewarded only with the glimpse of a tail or the loud splash as it dived. Fairly soon thereafter, all went quiet, and I decided to head round to the mill and home.

At the mill, I peered across the mill pond, and in the distance, I spotted the distinct wake of something swimming in the water. Zooming in, I was treated to the sight of not one but two otters crossing. I quickly set up my camera and settled in to watch.

The pair of otters was known to me as an adult female and her cub. I see them quite regularly on the trail camera. This late in the year, the cub was nearly the same size as the mother, distinguished only by a smaller face and lighter throat markings. The pair swam together across the mill pond, diving frequently.

Interestingly, as they dove, you could see their arched backs, which looked a lot like the serpentine movement of a monster. Some suggest that this is what people see when they think they have seen the Loch Ness monster, and I believe that this has some merit—trying to spot the otters in the wind-swept muddy waters.

It was obvious that the pair were foraging. The dives were deep, and there was no evidence of play behaviour. The river is full of fish but with the water still high it is heavily silt laden reducing visibility considerably. It is in these conditions that the otters’ strong whiskers come in useful, which they use to sense prey. Despite their skills they did not appear to catch any sizeable fish. I did see them eating something, but it was small and unidentifiable. Other than crossing the mill pond they tended to keep to the banksides, foraging along the edges and around the driftwood. I watched them from a comfortable distance for 20 minutes until they drifted off downriver and disappeared.

This encounter is proof that you never know what you are going to find when out in the great British countryside. Were it not for that split-second whim to try the other path, I would never have seen these two otters, my fourth-ever live sighting of Otters in the UK. Be it Lady Luck or the lord himself, providence definitely shone on me today.