Otter Chaos!

by Michael Broad

  The beavers looked very pleased with themselves as they bundled back inside the lodge. All except Chip, who paused to prod the dam with his stick, frowned at it, and then followed his family inside.

  Woody and Sooty left their overhanging branch and hurried after their elders, who were swimming back downstream. Their fathers were up front, with their grandpas close behind still grumbling about honour and bravery and wanting to give Chuck the beaver a knuckle sandwich. The two young pups trailed behind everyone, looking and feeling completely deflated.

  “I can’t believe our dads backed down,” said Woody.

  “I think the beavers are very selfish,” retorted Sooty.

  “Shellfish!” gasped Woody. “No more clams and mussels!”

  “And no more crayfish,” gasped Sooty. “No more fish at all!”

  “I don’t think we’ll be able to stay here if there’re no fish,” sighed Woody. “And I like living together. It’s so much more fun than when our families lived in separate dens.”

  “You don’t think we’ll have to split up, do you?” asked Sooty.

  “I don’t know,” said Woody. “But I doubt there are many other dens that two families would fit in so comfortably.”

  The young pups looked ahead at their fathers, who they thought must be feeling pretty awful after their confrontation with the beavers ended so badly. Just then Papa Black and Papa Brown looked back and caught the looks on Sooty and Woody’s faces.

  “Cheer up, otters!” smiled Papa Black, with a twinkle in his eye.

  “Last one home’s a bubbly fish fart!” smiled Papa Brown.

  Both otters winked at their pups before diving down with a splash. They soared underwater at high speed, taking the lead as they raced everyone home. The grandpas, always keen to show how fit they still were, also joined the race.

  “Our dads seem strangely cheerful,” frowned Sooty.

  “That must mean they’ve got a plan!” exclaimed Woody, and the two friends shared a happy high-five, before diving underwater with a double splash and zooming after the others.

  ll otters gather in the central chamber!” yelled Papa Brown, leaping out of the river and on to the mooring pad, with Papa Black following close behind. The rest of the returning group clambered after them and hurried into Cottonwood Lodge.

  When everyone was assembled, Papa Brown called for quiet and then addressed the two families. Sooty and Woody sat at the back and couldn’t wait to hear their fathers’ plan of action.

  “Our meeting with the new neighbours did not go well,” said Papa Brown gravely. “In fact, it went very badly indeed. The beavers refuse to move their dam and we don’t know what to do about it.”

  The otters all gasped and stared, wide-eyed, at him.

  “However …” prompted Mama Brown, elbowing her husband.

  “Huh?” said Papa Brown, who was always bad at giving speeches.

  “The good news is that we all have different skills and talents!” Mama Brown continued, opening her arms wide. “And if we all put our furry heads together, we’re sure to come up with something brilliant!”

  “HOORAY!” cheered the otters.

  Papa Black stepped forward and began to scratch on the mud wall with a stick.

  “There are six beavers in total,” he said, drawing six beaver-shaped blobs in a line and in order of size. “And the dam stretches the entire width of the river, blocking the flow of fish to us,” he added, drawing a wiggly line with a bend in the middle and two thicker lines cutting across the top.

  “Where are we?” asked Nutmeg, raising her paw.

  “Don’t you know where you are?” chuckled Chestnut, mocking his twin sister as usual. “Nutmeg doesn’t know where she is!”

  “I meant in the diagram, nitwit,” Nutmeg groaned.

  “We are right about here,” said Papa Black, following the river bend with his stick and drawing a cross to mark the location of Cottonwood Lodge. “And the water flows in this direction, from here to here,” he added, drawing a curved arrow from the dam to the lodge.

  “Now we just need to find a way to make these go away,” said Papa Brown, pointing at the pictures of the beavers. “Or to make this go away,” he said, pointing to the dam.

  “Turn the beavers into toads!” giggled Storm.

  “Or turnips!” giggled Shadow.

  “Turnip toads!” they giggled together.

  “Thank you for your input,” sighed Papa Black, shaking his head and casting his eyes over the sea of black and brown fur. “Does anyone have any non-magical solutions?”

  “Can’t we ask them nicely to go away?” whispered Beanie.

  “I’m afraid we’ve already tried that, my darling,” smiled Mama Brown. “Though, I suspect if the female otters and female beavers got together, we might still arrive at a sensible solution.”

  “Hear, hear!” said Mama Black.

  “You didn’t see the female beavers!” said Grandpa Jack. “I think they were more into chomping than chatting. What did they call the three daughters?”

  “The Saw Sisters,” said Papa Brown. “They were pretty scary.”

  “Well, I think we should set a pack of wolves after them!” growled Grandpa Bruno. “The only danger there would be making sure we didn’t get eaten ourselves.”

  “That’s a little extreme, even for you,” frowned Grandma Maple. “Having beavers in our back yard is bad enough; we don’t want wolves at the door as well.”

  Papa Brown was beginning to look rather worried. “Does anyone have any other suggestions at all? What about Coco and Berry?”

  “We can’t concentrate with those two whispering!” growled Coco, pointing an accusing finger at her little brother and his friend at the back of the chamber. “Otherwise we probably would have come up with something really, really clever.”

  “Woody and Sooty,” said Papa Black. “Do you have any thoughts you’d like to share?”

  “Holes!” said Woody, jumping up excitedly.

  “Excuse me?” said Papa Brown.

  “We can make lots of little holes in the dam,” said Sooty, also jumping up and down. “That way the beavers can stay where they are, but the fish can carry on swimming down the river as usual.”

  “And the beavers probably won’t even notice,” added Woody.

  “Holes …” pondered Papa Brown, scratching his chin. “I like it!”

  Papa Black turned back to the wall and started prodding the drawing of the dam with the end of his stick, making little holes all along its length. He then added lines showing water flowing through and drew baffled expressions on the blobby beavers’ faces.

  “Holes!” he said cheerfully.

  “Holes!” confirmed Papa Brown.

  “HOLES!” cheered the otters.

  “All we need now is a crack team of dam busters and a cool name for the operation,” said Papa Brown, obviously excited to be taking action at last. “Any suggestions?”

  Storm and Shadow swiftly put their paws up.

  “Any suggestions that don’t involve toads or turnips?” added Papa Brown, at which the twins lowered their paws with a sigh. “A name that will inspire greatness in the brave team entrusted with this mighty task?”

  There were cries of “Woodworm Warriors!” and “Operation Fish Holes!” and “Beaver Deceivers!” Then Woody put his paw up and waved at his dad. “You’ve already given it a name!”

  “What did I say?” asked Papa Brown.

  “Dam Busters!” said Woody. “Operation Dam Buster!”

  The otters selected for Operation Dam Buster were not the most obvious choices, but they were the ones most likely to work quickly and quietly and with the least amount of fuss. So Papa Brown and Papa Black left Cottonwood Lodge with Woody and Sooty because they had come up with the idea of Operation Dam Buster in the first place – and were far more responsible than their older brothers and sisters. The beavers would still be sleeping in their lodge and they needed to stay that way for the plan to succeed.
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  “I wish we could just be friends with the beavers,” whispered Sooty as the young pups turned the bend in the river and followed their fathers towards the dam, swimming slowly with their heads just above the surface of the water.

  “Me too,” agreed Woody. “There’s enough fish for all of us.”

  “Our dads did try to talk to them,” said Sooty, “but they didn’t seem very friendly at all.”

  “Maybe it’s because we woke them up?” said Woody. “I know Grandpa Bruno can be grumpy when he’s disturbed. Grandma Maple tells us all to hush when he’s having a nap so as not to wake the ogre!”

  The four otters reached the dam and Papa Brown and Papa Black made paw signals to instruct Woody and Sooty to dive underwater and spread out along the length of the structure. When the dam busters were in position they began to pull away lumps of grass and moss and removed some of the smaller branches, letting them rise to the surface and drift downstream.

  The two adults continued to give paw signals through the murky water, and the pups dashed up and down the dam, seeking likely locations for brand-new holes. Despite wishing to make friends with their new neighbours, the young otters were having a brilliant time pulling apart the beavers’ enormous dam. In fact, they were having so much fun they got a little carried away.

  “I’ve made seven,” said Woody as they came up for air.

  “I’ve made four,” said Sooty. “But they’re all bigger than yours.”

  “Not for long!” laughed Woody, diving back under as his friend chased after him.

  They had both started out making small holes, but when they discovered that only small fish could swim through, they made the holes wider to let the large fish through, for bigger meals.

  Papa Brown and Papa Black were no better with their hole control, so when the dam busting was finished there were more holes than dam and white water was gushing through in torrents. All that remained of the structure was a mess of loose logs and branches clinging to the central tree trunk. Soon the whole thing began to bend and creak as the full force of the river pounded against it. Eventually there was an enormous crack that sent the otters rocketing to the surface.

  The tree trunk splintered in two under the pressure of the water. The thinner top end drifted downriver, along with the remaining logs and branches. The thicker root end remained anchored to the bank, supporting the bristly mess that was the beaver lodge. The otters bobbed up and down in the water and drifted downriver with the broken dam. They clambered on to the treetop to rest, riding it home like a giant canoe.

  “I think the beavers might notice that,” frowned Woody.

  “I think you’re right,” replied Sooty.

  “Well, maybe it will teach them a lesson – not to mess with otters and their fishy food supply,” said Papa Black, patting the pups’ heads. “They started it by building the dam in the first place.”

  “I doubt we’ll have any more trouble from the beavers,” said Papa Brown. “Not now they know who they’re up against. I imagine they’ll simply pack their stuff and move on, as we originally suggested.”

  The otters ate a modest mussel dinner served with daring tales from Operation Dam Buster and, having solved the beaver problem once and for all, everyone was in high spirits.

  “We dashed about like lightning,” said Woody, whooshing his arms about to show how fast they moved, “making holes in that huge dam and watching shoals of fish dart through!”

  “But we stayed completely silent,” whispered Sooty, “because we could hear those mean beavers snoring their heads off while we worked under their very noses!”

  “WOW!” gasped the rest of the young otters, gripped by the story.

  “But that’s not the best bit,” said Woody, nudging his friend.

  “Then we broke the whole thing wide open!” added Sooty excitedly.

  “BOOM!” roared the pups, jumping up with their paws in the air.

  Everyone chuckled and clapped with delight, happy that the otters had triumphed against the beavers. They were also keen to fill their rumbling bellies with fishy goodness.

  The otters all went to bed early that evening so they could rise early the next day and reap the rewards of Operation Dam Buster. After a night of regular water flow the fish stocks would return to normal and by morning the river would be jam-packed with delicious food.

  he following day the otters got up bright and early and dashed out to the mooring pad. One by one they dived into the river to catch their own favourite fish for a celebratory breakfast banquet.

  “I bet I catch the biggest fish!” boasted Woody.

  “You wish!” replied Sooty.

  Woody and Sooty then back-flipped into the river, with a cry of “CRAYFISH!”

  Coco and Berry stayed on the mooring pad and planned to point at the fish they wanted, but then Jet did a somersault over their heads and splashed into the water, soaking them through. The females shrieked and jumped in after him, swiftly followed by all of the other hungry otters.

  Everyone was in a great mood until they realised that something was missing. It certainly wasn’t otters because every member of the Brown and Black families was present … it was the fish that hadn’t turned up!

  The otters scoured every centimetre of their section of river but couldn’t find a single clam or crayfish. They eventually gathered in the middle, treading water and looking around. It was then that they turned their heads upriver, past the bend, and saw a sight that made their empty mouths drop open.

  “They can’t have!” gasped Papa Brown.

  “But how?” gasped Papa Black.

  The otters swam upriver to find an even bigger dam than the one they had destroyed. It was a monstrous mound of tree trunks, logs and branches that loomed over their heads and cast everyone in shadow.

  “You have to give them points for effort,” sighed Mama Brown.

  “They must have been at it all night long!” said Mama Black in amazement.

  The otters spread out along the colossal structure, looking for any cracks or weak points, but the wood was solid and any gaps had been tightly packed with grass and mud.

  “This one’s not going anywhere,” frowned Grandpa Black, patting the wood.

  “I could probably punch through it with a few good swings,” bragged Grandpa Bruno, air-boxing as he bobbed up and down in the water. “It’s a good job the beavers are hiding or that big one would finally get what’s coming to him!”

  “I imagine they’re sleeping like pups after all this work,” said Grandma Maple.

  “WRONG!” roared a voice from above.

  The otters looked up and saw the head beaver, Chuck, appear at the top of the dam. His wife, Twiggy, swiftly followed, scowling at the intruders. Then the Saw Sisters appeared, looking even more ferocious than before. The beavers all gnashed their teeth and snarled like wolves. They looked pretty terrifying, towering over the otters, until Chuck glanced left and right, rolled his eyes and sighed.

  “CHIP!” he growled through the corner of his mouth. His hind paw tapped impatiently as the young kit clambered up the dam, fell backwards into the water, and then clambered back up again.

  “Grrr!” Chip croaked, rather weakly. He wobbled back and forth as he struggled to stay upright on the uneven platform of branches.

  His father turned back to the otters. “You destroyed our dam!” he said gruffly.

  “Technically, yes,” confessed Papa Black, smiling awkwardly. “But it was more of an accident, really …”

  “It’s actually quite a funny story involving holes,” chuckled Papa Brown. “You’ll probably laugh when you hear it.”

  The head beaver snorted through his nostrils and looked as though he’d never laughed once in his whole life, and wasn’t about to start now.

  “The time for talking is over,” said his wife, nodding to the rest of the family, who all cracked their knuckles and bared their teeth. “Now it’s time to start chomping!”

  The beavers leapt off th
e dam together and belly-flopped into the river, causing six huge splashes that poured over the startled otters. Beanie squealed at the top of her voice and everyone else looked around in a panic.

  “Swim for your lives!” yelled Mama Brown, taking Beanie’s paw.

  The otters dived underwater with eighteen rapid tail-splashes and then fanned out. The dam limited their escape options so they headed for home at speed.

  The beavers took off after them, zigzagging back and forth, their teeth chomping like turbo-powered wood-chippers, but the otters were faster in the water owing to their long sleek bodies and narrow tails. They also didn’t want to have their bottoms bitten. The beavers might be less agile swimmers, but they had strength and sharp teeth, and their flat tails worked like fins, propelling them through the water like furry piranhas.

  When the otters turned the bend in the river, they all sprinted for the safety of Cottonwood Lodge. The beavers were only chasing the adults, really, so the young otters reached the lodge first. They leapt out of the water on to the mooring pad, swiftly followed by the grown-ups. Once they’d all scrambled inside, the Blacks and the Browns collapsed in a wet heap, gasping for breath.

  “Are they still out there?” panted Mama Black.

  “What are they doing?” gasped Mama Brown.

  The papas and grandpas peered though the holes in the woven outer walls of the lodge and scanned the river. Chuck and Twiggy were bobbing in the water, glaring at the otter lodge. They shook their fists when they saw otter eyeballs peeping at them.

  “Stay away from our dam!” yelled Chuck.

  “Or we’ll smash this place to splinters!” added Twiggy.

  The pair flicked their tails crossly before paddling back upstream, followed by their three large beaver daughters. Chip, however, was only just arriving. His sisters shook their heads and motioned for him to turn round and head back to the dam.

  “They’re going home now,” said Grandpa Jack.