Guests at the Pond

This February, we had visitors on the farm. While it took a bit of time to confirm their identity, we eventually did. Two river otters took up residence at our pond and provided great entertainment, along with both joy and sadness.

Cathy was the first to see them. She saw something moving across the pond and then disappear below the surface for a period of time. At first she thought it was a turtle, as we do have snappers in the pond, but this was moving too fast. Then she saw a second fast moving object. It came towards her, and suddenly “stood up”* in the water and looked at her! What?!

She told me about it later that evening and we discussed the possibilities. Beavers are what first came to mind, although it seemed strange they would establish a home in a pond – I’d presumed they needed more moving water than our small streams. We did some research online and three other options popped up – muskrats, mink and river otters.

Cath saw them again the next day, and then I did too. They were definitely not beavers – their tails were wrong. And then due to size, we eliminated mink and muskrats. They were probably somewhere between 15-25 pounds, much larger than mink or muskrat. Plus they were definitely staying in the water for long periods, which eliminated the mink, and were eating fish, which pretty much eliminated the muskrat. River otters had taken up residence in the pond.

We started watching for them on a daily basis. Cathy would see them while crossing the berm at one end of the pond to go horse riding. I’d see them in the morning while putting the horses out. Swimming, diving, eating fish, appearing, disappearing and reappearing. Ripples on the pond when there was no wind. They were quite entertaining.

It looked as if they set up a dwelling under a fallen tree on the pond’s edge. It was one of several large trees we lost last June during a major wind storm that passed through the area.** I marveled at Mother Nature taking away several large trees and an unknown number of bird nests last summer, only to give the otters a home with one of those trees this winter.

Cathy talks about our pond acting as the center of life on the farm and she’s right. There are of course fish, turtles, frogs and snakes in the pond but it attracts so much more. We’ve seen deer and raccoon on the banks, and a bear stopping in for a drink, before meandering on it’s way. There is amazing bird life – in addition to small birds, we have observed a couple types of duck, geese, owls, hawks and even an eagle. Often, there are blue heron standing silently in the water while fishing. If you watch for even a few quiet minutes you are likely to see some gift from Mother Nature. The pond is certainly what brought the gift of the otters to us.

After they arrived, I was blessed early one morning with a memory I won’t forget. I had already fed the horses, and was back in the kitchen drinking my coffee. Using a pair of binoculars, I tracked the otters moving around the pond, diving and resurfacing. As I watched, a pair of geese were swimming in the shallows closest to me. Two heron were flying back and forth overhead, possibly irritated by the presence of the otters. I sat mesmerized for five or ten minutes, taking in all of the activity on our pond. It wasn’t yet 8AM.

Cath and I developed a daily habit of asking each other if we’d seen the otters and what they were doing. It was fun and also renewing. These two small creatures brought wonder and marvel to Rohan Farm.

Perhaps seven or ten days after they first arrived, the otters disappeared. We didn’t think too much about it the first day. Then a second day passed with no sightings. After a week with no viewings, we assumed they were gone.

We didn’t know what happened, but had so many questions. Where did they come from to begin with? Were they just passing through and stopping to eat for a few days? Did they start to make a home, and then with us, the horses and the dog in the area, decide there was too much activity here? Did they fish the pond for a while and decide there wasn’t enough food to support them long term? Did something kill them? We didn’t know.

Eight or nine days after their departure, I happened to look out the bedroom window in the morning, as I was preparing to start the day. There was no wind and there were no geese in sight, but there were ripples on the pond. I hurriedly finished dressing and went to feed the horses. I didn’t want to break my routine, rush straight to the pond and scare any potential visitors.

I fed the cats and then walked from the barn to the feed room to get the horse’s grain. I could see part of the pond, but trees blocked a total view. Finally, as I was carrying hay from the barn to the paddock, I saw a head above the water moving quickly, and creating ripples in it’s wake. I watched for a couple of seconds, and then it must have seen me as well – it “stood up” in the water, looked at me, and then continued about it’s business. The otters were back.

Now of course there were a whole new set of questions. Were they here the whole time, but becoming more nocturnal? Were they moving between the several ponds in our area? How long would they stay? How do we not waste this wonderful opportunity to watch them?

We’ve lived here for almost twenty-five years and have never before seen an otter. It never even occurred to me to look for a river otter. And then this small miracle occurred. I know this is how that strange and wonderful thing we call life works some times, but it still amazes me.

I will remember this winter and the pure joy the otters have brought us. I will also remember the sadness I felt when I thought they departed. We don’t now know their future plans and their time with us may still be fleeting. I feel lucky to have had the experience with them at all – and I am grateful for both the delight, and the sadness I have felt. I promise myself I will continue to enjoy them, and marvel at them, for as long as they allow it.

Addendum:

• * I later learned that what we called “standing up” in the water is referred to as periscoping. Otters “periscope,” meaning raise their necks far out of the water, to see farther. They also do this to identify each other.
• ** I mentioned the storm from last June knocking down the tree that apparently has become the home for the otters. Here’s a blog about the storm event. Eight months later, I can still hear the sound of the crying birds in my head – “When I went outside to assess the damage after the storm passed, the first thing I thought of was the musician Prince. There were probably no doves, but as I stood on the porch, I could hear hundreds (thousands?) of birds plaintively crying out, over and over and over. This wasn’t good” […] Continue at: https://mnhallblog.wordpress.com/2022/06/23/when-birds-cry/