The Kids Are Alright

Winter had her icy jaws locked on to the countryside, and most sensible animals were sheltering from her. The silvery moonlight brought its own chill. Even Winter, though, in the blackest heart of her inexorable dance, can't compete with the razor teeth and tough jaws of an otter. Most creatures become accountants when the ground is frozen, and food scarce. Energy lost hunting or foraging, plus energy lost to the bitter cold. These debits must be weighed against the slim chance of a little energy gained. Otters don't seem to keep this kind of balance sheet, and otter pups would find it frankly funny. This was the first really serious freeze this particular pair of pups had ever seen, and they seemed impervious to it. It was an adventure, rather than a hardship. Their curiosity and youthful enthusiasm seemed to offer some protection, just as their layers of fur and fat insulated their sleek and shiny bodies. They were following their mother in a haphazard way. If anyone had braved the chill to watch them, it would have looked like they were playing. Circling each other, nipping, wrestling; the fact they were going in the same direction as their mother looked accidental. When they reached the right spot, she showed them how to break the ice. They paid about as much attention as any pair of exuberant boys at the start of a grand adventure. "Watch me," she might have said. "I'm going to show you how to hunt under the ice." They would have rolled over and over one another, each intent on gaining ownership of some fascinating new pebble, and maybe she would have sighed, or scolded them that Winter Fishing - Rivers and Streams was sure to come up in their GCSE. Then, she'd have followed her snarling empty belly through the hole she'd made, and become a cunning shadow under the ice. While she slaves away under the frozen slab to catch dinner, her offspring slide about on top of it, having an absolute whale of a time. She is painstakingly showing them how to survive this time next year, and are they grateful? No. Gratitude is, apparently, an unnatural emotion. They feel sure, in their innocence, that she will bring dinner up to the hole before long. They are also confident that she will take them to safety if the Dogs are coming. She has surely warned them not to follow her. It would be dangerous. They could get trapped, unable to hold their breath long enough, and not quite strong enough to break through to the surface. Much as they adore to swim, having long since got the hang of it, they have no intention of following her. Not when the slippery surface offers so much playtime potential. Eventually she does bring them fish she's caught, and they tuck in as greedily as if they'd hunted it for themselves. She grooms herself, one keen eye on her pups, maybe thinking this was time well-spent. Maybe she assumed they did observe her lesson. Before dawn lightens the sky, they're done with fishing and eating, and the mother moves on. The pups take their wrestling match in the same general direction. It seems like it's more luck than judgement, but maybe they're observing her more than they're letting on. Maybe, next winter, they'll be OK.

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Thank you for reading!

Did you see Winterwatch this evening?

There are not enough stories about these absolutely adorable creatures!

Terry Nutkins was a staple on TV when I was growing up. If you can think of a better surname for a presenter on animal shows for kids, I'd like to hear it. If you can think of a cooler way for that presenter to lose the ends of his fingers than having them bitten off by an otter, I'd like to hear that, too.

Thanks again!