When Once Is As Good As a Feast

A brief encounter with the otter kind

Photo by Ryan Grewell on Unsplash

One of my favorite walks takes me along a narrow country road. The paved but pitted road bisects protected woodland, with numerous small streams and hidden ponds.

For years this quiet walk has been a source of inspiration for my nature poems and short essays. But one day especially stands out in my mind.

The one and only time I saw a family of otters.

I have a special place in my heart for otters. I have always said that if ever I get to come back as another animal, I want it to be as a river otter.

I love their sleekness, playfulness, sociability, and daring. I don’t particularly shine in any of these areas in my own life, but I like to think as an otter I might mend my awkward ways.

But back to the encounter.

I was about halfway down the road, just where it started to dip down a hill, when I froze in my tracks. About fifty feet in front of me a mother otter and her baby were scampering across the road.

Spotting me, the mother urged her baby along with a series of imperative squeaks. The pair swiftly dove into the woodland on my right.