OTTER TABLE
O T T E R T A B L E
I was fishing the east bank of the Mill Loch on the Hebridean Isle of Coll when I saw a sleek shape rippling through the water. I stopped casting my fly and remained quiet and still as the swimming otter approached me. When it was close enough I threw one of my trout to it; the fish was quickly consumed and the otter came to me for more, this time with paws resting against my waders and head stretched up towards my hand, until it was fed again. After rifling my fishing bag he fished with me for a while, diving and swimming around my feet in a stream of bubbles until we both decided it was time to move on.
This is my memory of the moment – captured last year.
Otto, the otter of the story, was actually known to me. I first met him as an orphan kit being hand-reared by an islander friend of mine and had spent a little time in his company as he grew up. I had never bumped into him in the wild though, miles from home – as far as I know he's never approached anyone else. I like to think he recognised me, it was certainly a memorable encounter.
Scottish elm, legs in fumed oak, hand-rubbed oil & beeswax. 2018
