Otter News Archive

Two otters on the rocks. Photo: Brydon Thomason SCALLOWAY Fire Festival presented the crowds with near perfect conditions for photographs last Friday, with just enough breeze to give the flames some character, but not enough to ruffle the black, glass smooth sea around the burning galley. It is always far more enjoyable if you are with someone who has never seen an Up-Helly-A' before.

This time I was with Ewan Walker, a visiting environmental impact assessor who, sensibly, had taken a few days extra leave to see something of these islands before returning to the city and was delighted that his visit coincided with Scalloway's biggest night of the year. He hadn't expected to see much wildlife at this time of year but the prospect of the burning galley created some very wild images of its own.

The night was bitterly cold and the pavements icy. Breakwater rocks were coated in sheet ice, but after the galley reached peak heat, the warming air melted all the ice within its reach. As we watched, the exquisitely symmetrical writhing flames, either side of their black waterline centre looked like a mad, exploding insect with matching red and gold wings. At times it was a moth, with delta flamed wings, then it was a tropical mantis followed by an angry giant centipede. A swallow tail butterfly broke through the dizzy image and in a slight gust of wind, it turned into a pheasant in flight, trailing long tail feathers.

Later, over a cup of tea, Andrew and I listened to some of the highlights of Ewan's handful of January days in Shetland. He had hoped very much to see an otter while he was here, having only glimpsed one in his life, years before on a stretch of mainland Scottish coastline. He kept his eyes open and made the best of his brief visit, taking in parts of Whalsay, Skerries, Laxo, Voe, Fetlar and Yell. He didn't manage to see just one otter, he had seen six, in just three days! We couldn't wait to hear the details. I hope I have got them all right.

On his way from Whalsay to Voe, he noticed first, a dead otter, lying on the roadside verge near the Laxo ferry turn off. Saddened that the only otter he had seen was a dead one, he nevertheless took a picture of it, then headed on to Voe. In Voe, after taking a lunch break at the pub, he wandered down to the pier to make a call to his office when he spotted two otters playing in the water only a few yards away. He couldn't believe his luck.

The otters were having a great time, diving, splashing, swirling round each other and chasing through the water. Now and again they vanished, but always reappeared soon afterwards. Eventually both otters disappeared and after waiting for several minutes, Ewan turned and began to walk back up the pier to return to work. But he hadn't gone more than a few yards when he heard a sudden splash. He turned and caught a glimpse of one otter hitting the water from mid air and vanishing beneath. He waited no more than a few seconds before it reappeared, emerging like a missile from the sea and arcing up and over like a dolphin, plummeting under the waves and moments later, shooting up again. It went at speed away from the pier and Ewan described at least seven of these high speed dive, leap, dive, leap figures before it made a final dive and Ewan didn't see it surface again.

The images of the playing otters stayed with Ewan all day; three sightings, albeit one dead, nevertheless, two very much alive. Friday brought a day off work and a visit to Skerries with birds, scenery, but no more otters. Saturday however, brought a trip to Fetlar, where after exploring the island, visiting Funzie and seeing huge boulders in fields where recent storms had hurled them, he met Roger Brimmelow who recommended a walk east from the Hamarsness ferry pier.

Ewan took his time and kept his eyes peeled. Sure enough, as he approached Urie Ness, he thought he saw something moving out in the water. Seal or otter? A black blob some distance away, it was hard to be certain. He ducked down and waited. After a while, a second blob appeared and then there was no doubt. Two otters began to play, diving and cavorting about the shallows of the headland, giving no sign of having seen him. Five otter sightings, in only three days!

Ewan began to walk back along the banks towards the pier when a large otter suddenly raced past ahead of him, on its way from the hill to the sea. He stopped in astonishment and watched it drop over the lip of the banks. Following after it, he peered over the edge. There, right below him, the otter was crouching, motionless, possibly waiting until, as it may have hoped, the human intruder had gone away. Then it looked up and straight into Ewan's eyes.

In a flash it was across the beach and into the sea. There, to Ewan's amazement, it turned back, standing on its back legs in the water and began to jerk its head
at him, mouth opening wide, obviously making noises, though the combined sounds of sea and wind prevented him from catching the sounds. He watched fascinated as the animal raged at him, snaking its head backwards and forwards, sometimes with a sideways, twisting motion, teeth bared. There was no mistaking the message; clear off Anyway, Ewan had a ferry to catch.

A sixth otter! Not only that but, one displaying fantastic behaviour focussed directly at him. It was unbelievable. On Saturday night we enjoyed his accounts of all the otter sightings, sharing a few of our own, and eventually, Sunday morning saw us going our different ways. I was surprised later, after a brief run into Lerwick, to find a folded A4 sheet of paper with my name on it, lying on the doormat. It was from Ewan. He had decided to take a short drive before returning and heading for the airport and the flight to Glasgow. He had, completely unexpectedly, seen four more otters!

Setting off down East Voe, he had decided, since his flight wasn't going until 2.30pm, to head out west for a last Shetland run, before turning back for Sumburgh. He went as far as Bixter and stopped for a wander along a last piece of island shoreline about 400 yards west of the village. I can't improve on his own report, so here it is.

"I saw a female, with two young, playing on the frozen voe! They were punching holes and popping in and out of the ice. Then they ran along the coast and settled on the grass for five minutes rolling around and resting a little. I was five to 10 metres away and took some pictures.

"Then they walked further along and I noticed an adult otter following them, so I headed after all of them. About 50 metres further along the shore it caught up with the three otters and the two adults had a very aggressive scrap. I watched from only about five metres away. The youngsters stayed back until the fight was over. Mother and young were constantly whistling to each other while the scrap, face-off wound down. Then they wandered off across a field.

"The lone otter licked its wounds and then it spotted me, leaped up and straight into the water, where it behaved very similarly to the Fetlar otter on Saturday, facing me, moving its head and making noises. This time I could hear very well clear snorts and sniffs. I left it alone at this point. Fifteen minutes (of amazing otter watching) Absolutely amazing!" At that point Ewan's description came to an end. Boy was I envious!

I have had some wonderful sightings myself over the years, most dramatic of all, the time when I had one in the van with me; picked up apparently dead, but it had only been stunned and came round with a vengeance. Once or twice I have glimpsed a family playing, but so many sightings, in such a short space of time, never! Not only that, Ewan witnessed truly extraordinary behaviour patterns as well.

Days may still be short, and the weather may have nasty surprises in store, but nothing is going to stop me heading for the winter shores, in the hope of some more otter watching thrills. Maybe winter isn't such a bad time for wildlife watching after all.

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