The River Wick is tidal to a point, the sea pushing and pulling, exerting coastal influence as far inland as she can, often not far at all, unless the conditions are just right.
Oh, I love watching otters - they are such beautiful, lithesome animals.
I've had a few encounters. I was doing a walkover survey on the Knoydart peninsula directly opposite Armadale on Skye, rounded a corner and a saw a small bay in which a mother was playing with her two cubs in the shallows as the water rolled in and out. Needless to say, the survey was suspended for 20 minutes as I just stood quietly and watched.
Tracking otters up on Shetland, three of us were sitting on some rocks watching a dog otter fish and hoping he would land his catch close enough to us to get some photographs. What he did took us all by surprise: he came out of the water and ran straight towards us! He came so close (probably less than 2m) that I couldn't get a shot with my long lens; we'd also all frozen so as not to spook him. What a look he gave us before running off, lol. We also saw an otter land an octopus that day too - magical.
I love both these tales. I spent quite a bit of time on the opposite (southern) shore of Loch Nevis, which is pretty rugged terrain, with no paths to speak of, beyond those of the deer. The otters there were similarly wonderful, and the rocks and slope gave superb views.
Watching the way mothers and cubs play is mesmerising, such a special thing.
I've yet to visit Shetland! I know several people up there and really would like to spend some time walking those coasts. That's such a great memory, having the otter run towards you like that. Time always seems to slow in those moments.
One thing I realised is that for all the best encounters, the most memorable, I've had with nature, I've rarely even thought of my camera until too late. I suppose it might be because they were unexpected, but still, it would have been good to have at least tried to take a photo!
Thank you for sharing your stories, they're wonderful.
Having lived in the arctic for several years, this brought back memories.
We were on a tidal river that saw incredible arctic char and beluga ride the tide into town for the Inuit fishermen to hunt.
At the end of the winter, the sounds of the tide taking away the frozen river ice was incredible. Like breaking glass as the sun melted just enough to free the ice crystals.
I have only ever heard ice breaking up like that once, and the sound has stuck with me since, even though it was not a large river and the breakup was swift and fleeting.
I love this! I used to spend every morning walking alongside the Animas River in Colorado, and this story makes me miss those quiet moments. It’s truly special to watch wildlife, unobserved. To be in the moment, a part of nature. I once watched a bald eagle catch and eat a trout… just a few minutes from my house.
These moments really do stick with us, they seem to wedge themselves in the memory and return at strange times. I would love to visit Colorado one day, learn about the wildlife there. To be able to walk out and appreciate nature is one of the greatest gifts in life, something I never take for granted.
Many thanks for commenting and sharing your own memory, I love that, thank you.
Love this, Alexander. And especially your encounter with the family of playful otters. Beautiful! I grew up in an idyllic little village with a medieval church, manor, and primary school; a big pond; and a stream flowing beside its main street. The sight and sound (particularly the sound) of that stream will always stay with me. And I remember my friend and I once catching, by hand, lots of little gudgeons. We filled an old ‘aquarium’ with tap water, left them there overnight, and, to my horror, when I came down the next morning virtually all of them were lying belly up on the surface - they had, of course, died from the lack of oxygen. I still feel guilty about that. Tbh, I’m not a big fan of fishing these days. Thanks again for this wonderful post. You write so poetically. ✨
Thank you so much for this, I really appreciate your words.
These memories, those little vignettes, are what make up our lives. The older I get, the more I realise how important they are, small lessons which stick with us year after year. I remember a similar thing, only it was gathering shells at a beach, then going home to find they weren't all empty after all--this was before we lived closer to the shore. I still feel guilt about that.
I think the sound of running water is one of those truly special aural memories. If I open the window of the study, I can hear the mountain stream a double bowshot to the east, if I open the bedroom window, it is the stream a bowshot to the west. Being between these two feels right.
Beautifully told. I felt calmed by your patience and the magic of the experience. I haven’t been so close but we watched the magic of an otter in the waters of Eilean Donan as the sun was setting in a blaze of purples, yellows, oranges …
Many thanks for this! What a lovely memory, and a super place for otter watching, especially with those colours. I miss west coast sunsets! There is something quite magical about otters, about how they move and the way they seem to think about their world. Not only that, but they are very individual, each with a character of their own.
What a beautiful stillness there at the bridge, waiting for the otter family. On my uphill walks, I’m most likely to see small rabbits diving under sagebrush or slow hawks riding thermals and watching for rabbits.
A beautiful stillness really does describe the experience, thank you.
I love what you write here as, even in a few words, I have an image of your environment on your walks, all things connected, sagebrush protecting, rabbits providing food for others, and the rising warmth from the ground enabling the hawks above.
Oh, I love watching otters - they are such beautiful, lithesome animals.
I've had a few encounters. I was doing a walkover survey on the Knoydart peninsula directly opposite Armadale on Skye, rounded a corner and a saw a small bay in which a mother was playing with her two cubs in the shallows as the water rolled in and out. Needless to say, the survey was suspended for 20 minutes as I just stood quietly and watched.
Tracking otters up on Shetland, three of us were sitting on some rocks watching a dog otter fish and hoping he would land his catch close enough to us to get some photographs. What he did took us all by surprise: he came out of the water and ran straight towards us! He came so close (probably less than 2m) that I couldn't get a shot with my long lens; we'd also all frozen so as not to spook him. What a look he gave us before running off, lol. We also saw an otter land an octopus that day too - magical.
I love both these tales. I spent quite a bit of time on the opposite (southern) shore of Loch Nevis, which is pretty rugged terrain, with no paths to speak of, beyond those of the deer. The otters there were similarly wonderful, and the rocks and slope gave superb views.
Watching the way mothers and cubs play is mesmerising, such a special thing.
I've yet to visit Shetland! I know several people up there and really would like to spend some time walking those coasts. That's such a great memory, having the otter run towards you like that. Time always seems to slow in those moments.
One thing I realised is that for all the best encounters, the most memorable, I've had with nature, I've rarely even thought of my camera until too late. I suppose it might be because they were unexpected, but still, it would have been good to have at least tried to take a photo!
Thank you for sharing your stories, they're wonderful.
Having lived in the arctic for several years, this brought back memories.
We were on a tidal river that saw incredible arctic char and beluga ride the tide into town for the Inuit fishermen to hunt.
At the end of the winter, the sounds of the tide taking away the frozen river ice was incredible. Like breaking glass as the sun melted just enough to free the ice crystals.
Oh this is a lovely comment, thank you!
I have only ever heard ice breaking up like that once, and the sound has stuck with me since, even though it was not a large river and the breakup was swift and fleeting.
I really appreciate your comment, thanks again!
I love this! I used to spend every morning walking alongside the Animas River in Colorado, and this story makes me miss those quiet moments. It’s truly special to watch wildlife, unobserved. To be in the moment, a part of nature. I once watched a bald eagle catch and eat a trout… just a few minutes from my house.
Your story captures this experience perfectly!
These moments really do stick with us, they seem to wedge themselves in the memory and return at strange times. I would love to visit Colorado one day, learn about the wildlife there. To be able to walk out and appreciate nature is one of the greatest gifts in life, something I never take for granted.
Many thanks for commenting and sharing your own memory, I love that, thank you.
Love this, Alexander. And especially your encounter with the family of playful otters. Beautiful! I grew up in an idyllic little village with a medieval church, manor, and primary school; a big pond; and a stream flowing beside its main street. The sight and sound (particularly the sound) of that stream will always stay with me. And I remember my friend and I once catching, by hand, lots of little gudgeons. We filled an old ‘aquarium’ with tap water, left them there overnight, and, to my horror, when I came down the next morning virtually all of them were lying belly up on the surface - they had, of course, died from the lack of oxygen. I still feel guilty about that. Tbh, I’m not a big fan of fishing these days. Thanks again for this wonderful post. You write so poetically. ✨
Thank you so much for this, I really appreciate your words.
These memories, those little vignettes, are what make up our lives. The older I get, the more I realise how important they are, small lessons which stick with us year after year. I remember a similar thing, only it was gathering shells at a beach, then going home to find they weren't all empty after all--this was before we lived closer to the shore. I still feel guilt about that.
I think the sound of running water is one of those truly special aural memories. If I open the window of the study, I can hear the mountain stream a double bowshot to the east, if I open the bedroom window, it is the stream a bowshot to the west. Being between these two feels right.
Thanks again for your comment.
Beautifully told. I felt calmed by your patience and the magic of the experience. I haven’t been so close but we watched the magic of an otter in the waters of Eilean Donan as the sun was setting in a blaze of purples, yellows, oranges …
Many thanks for this! What a lovely memory, and a super place for otter watching, especially with those colours. I miss west coast sunsets! There is something quite magical about otters, about how they move and the way they seem to think about their world. Not only that, but they are very individual, each with a character of their own.
Thanks again!
What a beautiful stillness there at the bridge, waiting for the otter family. On my uphill walks, I’m most likely to see small rabbits diving under sagebrush or slow hawks riding thermals and watching for rabbits.
A beautiful stillness really does describe the experience, thank you.
I love what you write here as, even in a few words, I have an image of your environment on your walks, all things connected, sagebrush protecting, rabbits providing food for others, and the rising warmth from the ground enabling the hawks above.
Thanks!
Yes! :-)