Tag: fish

I had not planned on any more “wet fur” posts, but this was irresistible.

Ten days after the fish-eating otter in my recent post, a group of three appeared.

One sunbathed on a small rock.

Two swam around in formation for a bit, catching the occasional fish, and moving northwards up the pond as I followed quietly in the bushes.

Some diving and splashing, and then they suddenly turned towards the shore, and me. The one in front had a fish, and the other was shadowing him in the hope of a mishap:

The owner of the fish needed to get out of the water to eat it, and to protect it from its marauding sibling, so it headed for the closest option, a fallen branch sticking partly out of the water.

Still a bit low down:

With some difficulty, it hauled itself high enough for safe eating:

Teetering slightly precariously on its inadequate perch:

it set to work:

As the branch slowly sank, the second otter lurked close by, just in case:

Their teeth are impressive:

There were no slips, and the second otter, crestfallen, swam away hungry.

PS Here is a picture of the otter’s teeth, showing its four huge canines, from Tumlinson et al (2022)

The day after I saw the beaver, a even more special encounter..

I saw two otters at a distance, swimming, diving, and apparently fishing. I swiftly headed in their direction, towards a spot which they often use in the wintertime, and just before I reached it I glimpsed one, through the trees, hauled up on a rock devouring a fish. There was a space between two branches at knee height, so I crouched down, slowly, and took these pictures.

It was in deep shade, with the sunlit water at its back, but the photos I hope still give a sense of its pleasure in the meal, and the power of its jaws.

I think it sensed my presence, but it was hungry, so it finished its meal:

The fish, I am told, is a hornpout, another name for the Brown Bullhead, a type of catfish.

In maybe six years of watching otters on this pond, I have never before seen one out of the water eating a fish close by. St. Cuthbert, the patron saint of otters, was watching over me. *

PS St. Cuthbert was a 7th century Northumbrian monk. The historian Bede tells that Cuthbert used to pray standing waist-deep in the freezing North Sea, and the otters used to come and lie on his feet to warm them, then dry them with their soft fur.