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. She is not a long river, the Wick, or wide, but she is full of character. Dark, peaty waters seep into rivulets, then tiny burns, becoming wider, deeper, carrying sediment laid down over thousands of years, becoming the River Wick and coursing into the North Sea.
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.
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 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.
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. ✨
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 …
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.
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.
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 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!
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. ✨
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 …
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.