It’s the third day of my stay in Dumfries and Galloway. Last night’s rain was heavy, not unusual here, and it’s dark, the sky framed as a charcoal picture on a blackboard. It’s mid-winter, the wind is chill, and my breath is visible when I exhale.
It’s 5 am, and I am packed and ready for an adventure full of wildlife, stunning scenery and a homage to a local author who influenced my younger self.
The whistle on the kettle snaps me back to the present. I make my coffee and fill my flask, excitedly anticipating the adventures that lay ahead today.
Today we are looking for one of the most unique and enthralling mammal species in the UK: the excellent Otter. We are in the right area, as it is said that Dumfries and Galloway have the highest population of Otters in Scotland and, therefore, in the UK.
Otters are aquatic mammals that live in rivers and the sea. Science tells us that Otters are one of the most intelligent species on the planet; this is based on their ability to build and use tools.
Otters are mustelids, meaning they are related to the Pine Martens; we saw deep in the forest yesterday, as well as Stoats, Ferrets, and Badgers. Otters are often compared to Beevers, which is incorrect as Beavers are aquatic rodents.
An otter has a hydrodynamic body shape, a flat body and short legs. They have membranes between their toes that help them to swim and dive. Otters have dense dark brown fur over most of their body, but their belly fur is lighter with a grey hue. An Otters fur is impermeable and combined with its multiple fat layers, which allows it to maintain body heat while in the water.
Otters are long-bodied, typically between 75 to 90 cm, without their long tails that take an overall length of 1-1.25 metres. A wild Otter can live for up to 15 years, with an average of 8-10 year lifespan.
Another popular myth amongst nature lovers is that Otters eat berries and plants similar to their land-based relatives, but this is untrue.
They are undoubtedly opportunistic, but they are carnivores, not omnivores. The primary diet is fish and crustaceans, such as crabs and shrimps, but they will also eat frogs and other amphibians.
Today we are visiting two locations; firstly, we are going to a small coastal village called Elrig, the birthplace of author Gavin Maxwell.
I read Ring of Bright Water as a teenager and was captivated by the story and Maxwell’s charismatic writing; although the graphic description of Mij’s killing haunted me, I went on to read the Rock’s Remain, The House of Elrig; and the Raven, Seek the Brother. All spellbinding, nature-based novels with more than a hint of mishap and tragedy.
My disconnect from Maxwell became apparent as my love of wildlife and nature grew. I cannot agree with taking wild animals and effectively domesticating them as a way of ‘loving them’. That strikes me now as an incredibly selfish attitude, which appears to be a large part of Maxwell’s character. He was “an unpleasant man who was difficult to be with.”
Elrig is home to Mij the Otter’s monument. A beautiful sculpture of a smooth-coated otter – Mij, was, in fact, an Iranian Otter that Maxwell took from the wild and brought to Scotland to live in captivity. Despite knowing this, I still like to visit the monument when I am in the area.
A short distance down the coast is Monreith. Nother small coastal village with a shingly beach, soft sand areas, and a dense natural bank of hedges and shrubs. Ideal territory for Otters.
It was still dark when I arrived. As I walked to the beach, the sea was calm, a far cry from last night’s storm, and the air was fresh and salty. I could see the lights of boats passing by, way out to sea. With the windbreak up, seat and camera set up, I poured a coffee from my flask and waited for the sun to peep above the eastern horizon.
As the sun started to rise, I noticed some ripples forming on the surface of the sea near me. I took a deep breath and readied my camera, setting the lens and placing my finger on the button. Suddenly, a male otter emerged from the water, first with just its head and front claws holding a clamshell, before it flipped onto its back and began devouring the shellfish. After a few moments, it disappeared back into the ocean.
Amazingly, this scenario was repeated twice more. I was captivated and felt privileged to watch a wild otter have breakfast. He dived again, but he was moving on this time, and I didn’t see him again.
I sat on the beach, enjoying the winter sun as it rose in the sky. So tranquil and peaceful. Although a road runs nearby along the coast, there is no traffic, just the hypnotic rumble of the waves lapping against the gravel beach.
At least an hour passed like this, with me feeling very relaxed and happy with what I had seen. I walked along the beach, camera in hand, and towards the rising sun.
The bank along the coast grew taller, and the road was far above me as it climbed to traverse the cliffs. I came to an area near the cliff’s base with a large rock structure in the sea. It was a bay of sorts. The tide was out, revealing a rocky foreshore and a large area of soft golden sand. I positioned myself on the edge of the rocky foreshore and sat upon a rock that was covered with Barnacles and several types of marine plants and seaweed.
A note to myself, I would like to know more about beach wildlife and plants, particularly in the rockpools – but that is for another day.
I saw an otter in the bay in the early winter morning light. It was smaller than the large male I had seen earlier. I wondered if it was a female or one of this year’s cubs.
As I sat and watched the Otter scampering around the edge of the bay, darting between rocks and tiny sand heaps, seemingly following a scent trail, it was immediately apparent how agile
Otters are, and they are quick, moving in zig-zag formation at high speed, nose just millimetres above the sand. It stopped by a Rockpool. It almost slid in, front paws leading the way, but its head never broke the water’s surface.
As it withdrew its front feet from the Rockpool, I could see it had caught a fair-sized crab that it immediately began to eat.
The meal took no more than a couple of minutes to consume, and the Otter was off again, continuing its erratic high-speed running. It was heading in my direction, although still some way out. It again stopped at a Rockpool and, despite fishing for a minute or so, did not find anything to eat.
Now it began to head directly towards me. I could get some beautiful pictures of it, head on, so to speak, but I was also concerned that as soon as it realised I was there, it would leave. I was wrong.
The Otter was now fishing in a Rockpool no more than 20 metres away from me, and it pulled out a clam; having eaten that, it had what appeared to be a razor clam; I couldn’t be sure, but it was a tubular shell, and it was eaten as well.
Then the Otter pulled out a very good-sized crab, its shell was maybe 10-12 cm in diameter; it carried it in its mouth to a nearby rock on the sandy beach and slammed the crab onto the stone three times before it lay on the rock to eat the crab. This whole scenario took place within 10 or 12 metres of me. The Otter took three or four minutes to eat the crab.
By now, I was sure the Otter knew I was there. I was aware that Otters are considered as friendly, non-aggressive animals, except maybe towards another Otter that strays into their territory – then they will fight as they are very territorial animals.
Having finished its meal, the Otter cleaned its fur. Initially, I thought to clear the residue of the meal, but it began to wash the coat on its back, behind its neck.
I knew they could spend several hours daily ensuring their fur was in tip-top condition, but I had never seen it before. The preening continued for maybe 15 to 20 minutes, I mean, who looks at the time when they have a wild otter in front of them – but eventually, it had finished its wash, and it ran off, not toward the sea, but back through the rocks, this time away from me. I watched until I lost sight of it behind a distant rock. Wow, What a fantastic experience.
This is a public area and free to visit. I would, though, ask that if you do want to watch wildlife, any wildlife in its home habitat, please do respect the wildlife, give it space, and always allow the animal to control the situation – by that, I mean don’t try to feed it, touch it or interact with it other than perhaps getting some pictures or video of the encounter. That way, you are making memories but ensuring the wildlife thrives.
I decided not to overstay my welcome and walked back along the beach to head to my following location. Once back in the car, I drove to our following location, the excellent Wood of Cree.
The Wood of Cree is the largest ancient woodland in Southern Scotland. The woodland above the river Cree has been there since the last ice age, some 5,000 years ago. Known as Atlantic Oak or Scottish Rain Forest.
This is an exceptional place. It has been an RSPB reserve since 1984 and is teeming with life. You have every chance of seeing Pine Martens, red deer, red squirrels, in fact, 31 mammal species, including eight species of bat and, depending upon the time of year, birds such as the Willow Tit, Tree Pipit, Pied Flycatcher, Barn Owls, Buzzards 113 bird species have been recorded here.
Still, today, we are here to see the Otters.
The Otter pool is at the very start of the Wood of Cree walk. Taking the left-hand path leads you to the wooden viewing platform. It was around 11 am when I arrived, so I didn’t have high hopes of seeing otters. I was surprised to be the only person on the platform. There were only three cars in the rather large car park, and it felt like I had all 280 acres of this magical place to myself.
After setting up the camera, I sat down and began to visually explore my surroundings. I took out my binoculars to watch a Buzzard starting to climb the air thermals way above me. Then I heard a splash!
Looking back to the pool, I saw a female otter swimming towards the pool’s centre. She was dipping just below the water, like someone doing the breaststroke, clearly not diving for food. I can’t be sure, but I believe she was playing. She was seemingly having fun, swimming fast and then slowly, flipping onto her back and twisting, or rolling in the water.
This ‘play’ continued for a full ten minutes before she exited the pool to the cover of the shrub, before reemerging a few feet along, when she began to perform what is known as the ‘scat dance’.
This is unique to River otters. They stamp their hind feet and lift their tail. They then leave their droppings, which are called spraints. A spraint is a single bowel movement that can vary as much as the Otter’s diet. Unlike most pooh, Otter spraints have a delightful smell similar to violets.
Otters, like other mustelids use a communal latrine area. They exchange information via chemical cues in the faeces. Otters also excrete something called anal jelly that contains secretions from anal glands and shed intestinal linings.
One note of caution, if you find an Otter spraint, is that a cat parasite called toxoplasmosis has been found in cat faeces and is believed to enter waterways through runoff and flushable cat litter. This parasite can be dangerous to Otters and all aquatic mammals; it is also known to affect foxes and other land mammals.
I suggest you follow the woodland trail whilst at the Wood of Cree. It begins right by the Otter Pool, and you follow the tumbling Cordorcan Burn and enter beautiful Ancient woodland.
The path takes you past several delightful waterfalls, and then the Scrubland trail takes you out through scrubland, over bridges and past moss and lichen-covered boulders. You can follow the tracks back to the main route, past the otter pool and to the car park.
If you visit the Wood of Cree Nature Reserve, please tell us about your visit in the comments below.
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