Based On Actual Events

Eyes open. Feet, human feet in their rich cladding. Smells, all alien; human again. No water and no water plants, but fish! Out of no logic in this hard place the smell of fish. Under paw pads the hard, very flat ground is thrumming. The only sound seems to be an unimaginably loud roaring threat response from some otter so large he can hardly believe it’s possible. It shakes the space all around.

His stress level rises quickly. Moving his head from side-to-side his whiskers encounter a hard, cold substance he’s never met before; he doesn’t know metal. Just before he’s about to emit an alarm squeal some surprising defense mechanism tells him quiet is his best hope. He shuts up like a freshwater clam.

There is still some mud from the marshes of home shoved deep within his pores and at the base of his fur. The man had struggled valiantly to remove as much of the hard, spiky stuff as possible before stuffing him into the horrid box thing. Holes in the box thing allowed him to see outside and breath the air of his birthright for the last time.

As soon as he was sealed into the evil thing he’d begun to worry away at its weaknesses. From countless generations of life in the harsh world of the desert marshes his kind had developed a wit and a tenacious independence which immediately spoke trouble for the quickly conjured contraption in which the man had wished to contain him. The hinges of the box wouldn’t last long. They were beginning a long, hard journey to the man’s home-place and the otter’s new paradise. The man was filled with anxiety for the well-being of his new, wild fellow traveler.

The man realized his ‘pet’ was awake again. The otter's battle with the now shattered box had been exhausting. Reaching down under his seat he gave the otter a reassuring pat while making sure that the animal picked up his familiar scent. He cast a nervous glance at the glamorous American lady seated beside him. The man reached into his carryall for the treat of fish he’d brought along to help his new friend feel safe.

In fact, the moment he caught the scent of the man the otter’s almost-terror had dampened to a tolerable anxiety and an unexpected perception of hunger. Above his newspaper padded place on the airplane’s floor the otter heard the man speak to the fashionable woman beside him. Of course, the little animal couldn’t understand, but the sound of the man’s voice calmed him further.

“You are being wonderfully accommodating for just having been introduced to us. I couldn’t have hoped for a more tolerant travelling companion!” In truth, the man, a minor British aristocrat, had a low, prejudiced opinion of wealthy Americans and he’d very nearly panicked on first seeing the obviously well-heeled, posh woman enter the cabin and approach her seat. Her instant, even enthusiastic support for his unusual project was another new beginning for the man to start that night. He would begin to learn tolerance of people he didn’t fully understand. The otter taught him this. He placed the fish on the newspaper beside his otter.

“Nonsense!” said the almost supernaturally kind American. “Your little friend is the very picture of polite society. He certainly sleeps a lot, doesn’t he?”

The man’s eyes widened at the realization of the true depth of his subterfuge, but he said nothing. The otter’s sedative must surely be wearing out soon. Beyond the window glazing in the cabin-side the plane’s two port propellers whirred around in a convincing impression of eagle’s eyes. In the otter’s birth home in the Iraqi marshes the eagle was his one true enemy. Fortunately, he couldn’t see them out the windows from his spot on the cabin floor.

The humans gradually settled down and quieted. The steady thrumming of the DC-7's four engines lulled them to a long-delayed sleep. Curtains were closed and the cabin lights dimmed.

Fully awake now, the young otter (he was a yearling and little more than a cub) began to feel his native curiosity overtake his wariness. The man didn’t seem interested in play. Like most of the tall animals in this weird place he even sounded like he was snoring. With all this noise and strangeness; incredible!

Like all precocious, highly intelligent creatures a driving need for investigation and exploration consumed the otter. His courageous sense of play compelled him to look for entertainment the man was presently unwilling to provide. Left loose on the newspaper he began to move about.

Some quiet minutes later a deafening shriek from the far end of the plane, the tail, awoke the entire cabin. “Rat! There’s a rat on this plane!” yelled a Persian woman. Her husband immediately jumped from his seat to stand on it, awkwardly crouched beneath the overhead storage rails. An epidemic of panic coursed through the cabin as the passage of ‘the rat’ attested to the Persian woman’s honesty.

A few less addled passengers were cogent enough to question her rat diagnosis, however. If this creature was a rat then it was a world-threateningly large one! Also, rats were not generally known for their rich, chocolatey fur. The true, theory killing detail though was the long, tapering and fur covered tail which seemed to be a prevalent feature of which most of the passengers eventually caught a glimpse.

The exhausted, frazzled man was desperate, racing up and down the aisle in his attempts to save the day. At one point giggles from a little girl travelling home with her parents gave away the otter’s location temporarily. The man charged down the aisle toward the sounds. He froze when he came in view of the girl and her new friend. The otter was standing in the girl’s lap and running his prehensile fingers delightedly through her long hair. She in turn had him by his ribs and was tickling the animal furiously. A definite grin was spread over the otter’s face.

Taken aback, the man did nothing but stare in amazement at the happy scene. Seeing the tableau, the other passengers nearby were as delighted as the otter and little girl. For a brief moment no one wanted to interfere before the man suddenly realized his chance. He crouched to spring before launching himself wildly at the otter. He missed as the animal dodged away. On the other hand, the little girl’s recently arrived milkshake upended and didn’t miss the man.

With an aircraft full of pandemonium, the Flight Attendants finally reclaimed the cabin with brisk though gently authoritative voices. While one urged the uproariously laughing passengers to return to their seats the other, senior, attendant leant down to pick up the man from his prone position in the aisle. “Let’s get you back to your seat, dear. I’ll get hold of some cloths so we can dry you off and make you comfortable again.” Fully aware of the nature of his lutrine friend and not at all daunted by this new rescue mission, she stepped away calmly to find the otter right after getting the absolutely-beside-himself man to sit and attempt a cleanup. Thoroughly amused, the rich American woman tried to calm the man down with moral support for his discomfort.

Less than two minutes later the senior flight attendant returned holding a squirming, wriggling, delighted mass. In all this strange world in the sky the man was the only familiar thing to this creature new to a world of mysteries, dangers and joys. Seeing the man, he made for the first time the chirping signal which would become so comfortable to both of them in the far distant Scottish cottage they would share. The otter curled up in the man’s lap and instantly fell asleep.

For more on Mijbil's story and his contribution to the modern environmental movement please read "Ring of Bright Water" by Gavin Maxwell (his 'man').