Otter Chaos!
Page 3
“Good riddance too!” growled Grandpa Bruno.
“We’re lucky they didn’t attack the lodge,” said Papa Black, patting the sturdy wooden structure. “With their teeth they could have turned it into a pile of sawdust in no time.”
“Especially after what we did to their dam,” agreed Papa Brown. “I know it was an accident and we only wanted to make a few holes, but they must think we set out to demolish it.”
“They’re builders,” said Grandma Maple wisely.
“What do you mean?” asked Mama Black.
“Maybe it’s not in their nature to destroy things,” she explained.
“They destroy trees,” said Mama Black.
“And cut off other animals’ food supplies,” added Mama Brown.
“Perhaps they didn’t mean to cut off the fish,” said Grandma Maple. “Maybe it was just an accident and we’ve misjudged them.”
“If that’s true then we may still be able to reason with them and reach a compromise,” Mama Brown said hopefully. “When the dust has settled, of course.”
“They might even let a few of us climb the dam each day to fish on the high side of the river,” said Mama Black. “Or dig an underwater access tunnel.”
“I’m not crawling through a dam!” gasped Coco. “It snagged my coat just swimming near it earlier. I’d probably go bald if I had to crawl through a hole with twigs pulling out tufts of fur!”
“I agree,” huffed Berry. “I’d rather eat riverweed!”
“Maybe we should all eat riverweed,” said Grandma Maple, fully aware that plans made in the heat of the moment were not always the best. “At least until everyone calms down – us and the beavers. Then we can all come back together and decide what to do.”
“We should fight to the death!” snarled Grandpa Bruno.
“Hear, hear!” growled Grandpa Jack.
“I think you’ve both done enough fighting for one lifetime,” Grandma Maple replied firmly. “Now we’re going to try the opposite of fighting and see where that takes us.”
“What’s the opposite of fighting?” the old otters said together, frowning.
“Eating vegetables!” she smiled.
he following days of eating only vegetables did not have the calming effect on the otters that Grandma Maple had hoped for. Mama Black and Mama Brown sent everyone out to forage for any interesting edible vegetation they could lay their paws on and everyone came back with riverweed. There were a couple of berries and a few tufts of grass too, but the rest was riverweed – great slimy mounds of the stuff!
Mama Black and Mama Brown then set to work preparing a selection of new meals. On day one there was riverweed soup, which was riverweed served in river water. Day two was riverweed stew, which was riverweed in river water, with extra big lumps of riverweed. Day three saw a special riverweed salad, with a grass and berry garnish. But a bird swooped down and grabbed the berries, so it became just a pile of riverweed with grass on it. On the fourth day they prepared a vegetarian version of their ever-popular fish wraps. These certainly looked the part, but where the original recipe called for delicious oily fish-heads to be dunked in clam juice and then wrapped in riverweed, all that was inside the new version was more riverweed.
No one took to being vegetarian and everyone became increasingly bad tempered, all secretly wondering if their bellies would ever feel full again.
Woody and Sooty sneaked out one night and returned to the overhanging tree, just to gaze at the moonlit dam and imagine all the crayfish swimming on the other side.
“Think of all those crunchy claws!” sighed Woody.
“And the tasty tails too,” added Sooty.
“Hello!” said an unfamiliar voice behind them.
The otters squeaked when they saw a beaver bobbing in the water, its big teeth gleaming in the moonlight. Then they realised it was the young kit, Chip, and he was smiling at them cheerfully.
“Hello,” the otters replied together.
“I’m sorry about the dam and the fish,” Chip said awkwardly. “And for chasing your family down the river. My dad is pretty stubborn when it comes to his building work.”
“It’s not your fault,” said Woody. “And we did break the last dam.”
“Our parents can be just as stubborn,” added Sooty. “Grown-ups are weird.”
“Do you want to play?” Chip asked hopefully. “I’ve been working on an obstacle course that I usually run on my own, but it’ll be much more fun with three of us!”
The otter pups nodded eagerly and followed the beaver up the bank as he vanished into the woods. Chip led the otters to a huge adventure playground he had built himself, using logs and vines and anything else he could lay his paws on. There were rope-swings, seesaws, slides and climbing walls, all running up and down and round the trees.
“WOW!” exclaimed Woody and Sooty.
“Last one round is a rotten clam!” laughed Chip.
The beaver ran for the start line, with the otters chasing after him and catching up in no time. The otters were faster, but the beaver was familiar with the obstacles, so the trio overtook each other throughout the whole course, tugging tails and roaring with laughter. Woody and Sooty then helped Chip build even more obstacles from plans he scratched out in the mud. The otters and the beaver raced each other a few more times until they all collapsed in a heap, rolling around and giggling, like the very best of friends.
“I thought your dad said you were no good at building,” panted Woody, looking up at all the complicated network of ramps and pulleys. “What you’ve done here is completely brilliant!”
“You should definitely show this to your dad,” added Sooty. “Once he sees how clever you are, he’ll be bragging about you like he does about your sisters chopping down trees.”
“I’ve tried to make my dad look at my plans and ideas, but he thinks they’re silly and won’t work,” sighed Chip. “He only ever wants to build traditional dams, and I prefer coming up with designs for new ones.”
“Well, we like your ideas,” said the otters.
When they got up the next morning, Woody and Sooty noticed that their families were much grumpier than the day before. Even Mama Brown and Mama Black had lost the will to invent new dishes and simply sculpted the riverweed into fish-shaped blobs for breakfast.
To take their minds off their own rumbling bellies, Woody and Sooty made a secret game out of watching all the members of their families to see who would crack first. They both expected Grandpa Jack or Grandpa Bruno to be the first, seeing as they were pretty crabby to begin with and had spent the whole week moaning. Or Nutmeg, who had taken to wearing a clamshell on her nose because a side effect of only eating riverweed was gassiness. All the otters had been farting non-stop, including Nutmeg herself!
Coco and Berry were pretty fed up too when they ran out of fish oil and their fur began to frizz. They looked like a pair of over-pampered poodles. But, as it turned out, the one who eventually snapped was the least vocal otter of them all.
“I CAN’T TAKE IT ANY MORE!” shrieked Beanie, startling everyone with her sudden outburst. As the otter who loved food the most, she was the one who had been the most miserable, but she spoke for all of the otters when she sobbed, “I MISS MY FISHY FOOO-OOO-OOD!” at the top of her voice.
“That’s it!” said Papa Brown, standing up heroically and casting aside the soggy remains of his fish-shaped riverweed blob. “I’m going out fishing for crayfish. I may be some time!”
This would normally have been the point where the otters lifted their spirits and cheered, “Hooray!” but they simply frowned at each other and then looked at Papa Brown strangely.
“There are no crayfish, dear,” said Mama Brown, standing up and patting her husband’s head, wondering if the riverweed had finally addled his brain. “The fishes have all gone away, remember?”
“There are none in this part of the river,” sighed Papa Brown, “but there’s a stream a short way west of here where I can lay my paws
on all the crayfish we can eat.”
“The Wild West!” gasped Mama Brown, swooning at the thought.
“It’s not as bad as all that,” replied Papa Brown.
“Anywhere away from the safety of the river is too dangerous!” said Mama Black, fanning her friend. “The Wild West is mostly forest, and we all know otters can’t always make a fast getaway on land.”
“We’ve been there before,” said Papa Black, standing alongside his hunting partner. “If we’re cautious and watchful it will be perfectly safe. We’ll be back before you know it with a huge crayfish feast!”
Mama Brown looked at the other otters and sighed. Beanie was wiping her tears away and had already started drooling at the mention of crayfish. The rest of the black and brown otters were all gazing at Mama Brown hopefully.
“Well, if you’re sure it’s safe,” she relented, giving Papa Brown a big hug – and taking the opportunity to whisper a word of warning. “But if you get eaten by a bear, I will never speak to you again!”
“Can I come?” asked Woody, jumping up and down excitedly.
“Me too!” said Sooty.
“Not this time, my darlings,” said Grandma Maple, patting the young pups’ heads. “Your dads will need their wits about them in the forest, and I’m going to need an extra pair of volunteers to prepare for the feast.”
“Awww,” sighed Woody and Sooty, who knew when they were being given the brush-off.
“We need to go alone the first time, to make sure there’s no danger,” said Papa Brown. “But once we know our way around the forest, there’s no reason why we shouldn’t take you on the next outing. It’s almost time for us to start teaching you to forage for yourselves.”
“Hooray!” cheered Woody and Sooty together.
Fortunately, Papa Brown and Papa Black returned from the Wild West later that day, laden with fresh crayfish and salmon. The fishing expedition had been a complete success and they encountered nothing more dangerous than a low-flying butterfly. The feast that followed was full of family cheer and everyone was happy to have their diet, and their lives, back to normal.
The following day Papa Brown and Papa Black went out west again, but this time with Woody and Sooty, who paused every few moments to look, sniff and listen for danger. It was their first time out foraging in the forest and the pups’ enthusiasm was matched only by their excitement.
“Now, always stay close,” said Papa Brown, as the otters dashed from one tree to the next, sneaking through the forest like furry ninjas. “And never spend too long out in the open, or in any high place where you might be spotted.”
“How do we find the stream?” asked Woody.
“Look for clouds of tiny insects, and pay attention to where birds and dragonflies are flying to,” said Papa Brown, pointing overhead at a speckled thrush that was swooping in and out of the overhead branches, flying in the same direction they were heading. The thirsty thrush was swiftly followed by a pair of tiny warblers. “The birds always know where the water is because they are high up and have a good view.”
“But always remember that other animals will want to use the stream and are watching too,” warned Papa Black, pointing in the distance to where a lone wolf was wandering away in the opposite direction. “Not everyone is friendly, so you need to be aware of who’s about.”
“This is such a brilliant adventure!” Woody said to Sooty.
“I know!” agreed Sooty. “Remind me to thank the beavers for stealing our fish. Without them we might never have been allowed to explore the Wild West!”
The otter dads let the pups take the lead for the rest of the way. Sooty and Woody looked around the forest for clues to take them to the water, using all the new skills they had learnt, just like a treasure hunt. When the otters finally arrived at the stream they all leapt in to the water, darting and diving about, searching for fish to catch. Between the four of them, working together as a team, they managed to haul a feast of fishy goodness that would last both otter families for several days.
Everyone was in high spirits on the way home, laden with fresh fish and not a single strand of riverweed. They laughed about how huge the crayfish were and how much fun it had been to chase them down; how the salmon leapt out of the water, so they had to catch them in the air, and how they found oysters hiding among the rocks. The otters were over halfway home when Papa Black suddenly froze and hushed the others. He stood tall on his hind legs and sniffed the air, whiskers twitching.
Sooty was about to do the same, thinking this might be another training exercise on how to keep a look-out for danger in the forest, when his dad screeched at the top of his voice, dropped the haul of fish and nudged the pup forward with his nose.
“RUN!” yelled Papa Black, and the pair raced away.
Woody didn’t have time to wonder what was going on before Papa Brown did the same to him, and he immediately remembered what to do. The first lesson he and Sooty had been taught, before they even entered the forest, was to head for the river as fast as you can when the alarm is given, and not to look back.
Woody and Sooty sprinted more quickly than they ever had before. They darted between trees, under bushes and over fallen branches. The young otters were fast, but nowhere near as fast as their dads, who ran just behind them, never overtaking but zigzagging from side to side with incredible speed.
The pups could hear the footfalls of a much larger animal bearing down on them. The beast was puffing and panting as it tried to catch their nimble fathers, who were dashing about like deer. The chase caused such a ruckus that it startled birds in the trees, who cawed and flapped away.
Somehow the pups remembered the way back through the forest. Not only that, but they had the good sense to take the shortest route to a different section of the river, as they didn’t want to lead the pursuer to their home. This meant heading south until they reached the curved section of river between Cottonwood Lodge and the beavers’ dam. Woody and Sooty burst through the trees and soared over the muddy riverbank. They plunged straight into the water with two big splashes, and two even bigger splashes immediately followed, as their fathers dived in too. The older otters motioned for the pups to keep swimming underwater, all the way to the bottom of the river.
There the otters sat on the murky riverbed and gazed up at the sunlit surface. Papa Black and Papa Brown pointed as the silhouette of an enormous head appeared.
It was a mountain lion! The pups stared at the beast with wide eyes and bulging cheeks. They almost gasped with fright, but knew to hold their breath. The lion was only young, and not yet an experienced hunter, but he had enormous teeth and claws and seemed like a giant compared to them. The otters watched and waited, trembling in the predator’s shadow.
he mountain lion sniffed the air and looked about, then dipped his mouth into the water and took a few laps before turning on his tail and padding slowly back into the forest. Moments later the otters swam quickly to the surface, gasping for breath. Once they were sure the big cat had gone, Papa Brown and Papa Black led the pups home.
Woody and Sooty felt a little shaken, but they were mostly thrilled to have had such a close encounter with a dangerous animal and couldn’t wait to brag about it to the others. But the impact of their bragging was somewhat ruined by the cuddles and kisses from Mama Brown and Mama Black.
“You are never to go to that stream again,” said Mama Black, hugging Sooty so hard that he squeaked. “It’s much too risky with a lion prowling the forest.”
“The same goes for you,” agreed Mama Brown, licking her paw and flattening the ruffled fur on Woody’s head. “We can all live without crayfish.”
“But—” started Grandpa Bruno, who was promptly silenced by a look from Grandma Maple.
Later that day the otters left the safety of the lodge to forage for more food and the elders insisted that they all stay close together. There was a chance that the mountain lion could try its luck again, now it knew there were otters this side of the river.
The youngsters did as they were told, but seemed more excited than frightened by the danger.
“That mountain lion is lucky I wasn’t there,” Chestnut said to Woody, throwing air-punches like his grandpa. “I would have bopped him on the nose and sent him yelping back into the forest.”
“Yeah, right,” scoffed Nutmeg. “I would have been much braver than you.”
“I would have jumped on the big cat’s back and ridden him through the forest,” said Jet, grooming his Mohawk fur-do. “You two are so lucky to get close to a real mountain lion!”
“It was pretty scary,” said Sooty, enjoying the attention.
“His paws and claws were huge,” said Woody, flexing his own paws and spreading his claws wide. “Not to mention his teeth. I think he could have gobbled us all up in one go!”
“He was so fast!” said Chip. “I’m glad you got away!”
The otters were startled by the voice and looked around to see the young beaver kit behind them. They were so surprised at his sudden appearance that they nearly gave the alarm screech.
“You saw it too?” asked Woody, swimming over to his friend.
“We came up over the dam just as you all dived in,” said Chip. “The mountain lion was right behind you!”
“We could hear his paws on the ground!” said Sooty, swimming over to join them.
“And his loud breathing,” added Woody, doing an impression of a panting lion with his tongue hanging out, which made everyone laugh very loudly.
The rest of the otters swam over to hear what Chip had to say about the predator. The kit appeared to be out in the river alone, so they made sure not to crowd around and frighten him.
“Has your family seen him since?” Grandma Maple asked kindly.