In Otter News
Team member Sarah Malcolm has been in North Devon during lockdown but has been keeping us updated with footage from the Wildlife Worldwide camera trap. We're delighted to share it with you here, as mentioned in our previous enewsletter.
I bullied through the brambles that inconveniently criss-crossed the human torso portion of an animal path leading to the river. Whilst nettles nipped at my ankles, I wondered if this ‘playback’ through the camera trap was going to be a success, or if the same showboating heron was still hogging the memory space on the SD card, as if I was his personal paparazzi.
The idyllic backdrop of a primrose and wild garlic carpet soaked up a dappled light before sloping off into the gently flowing river … I didn’t feel too sorry for myself as I rubbed my ankle with a dock-leaf. I was tempted to stay a while, yet I didn’t want to disturb the wildlife too much with my homo-sapien scent!
Skipping past the inevitable unflattering mug shot of myself, which I had just prompted as I leant in to access the camera, I then proceeded to rifle through the events of the last 72 hours. Various tracks along the exposed bank revealed that the area had been active, and the recording was about to tell me when and with what species…
The bushy tail of the busy grey squirrel, twitched away as it drank from the river, presumably quenching its thirst having just devoured the offerings of the bird table…
[Heron again]
A quick dart onto the screen in the shape of a larger mammal gave me a false alarm... not the otter, but a red fox. This graceful canid made its tentative examination of the camera around 5 am so we unfortunately weren’t graced with the rich russet colours of its coat which daylight affords us.
[Heron again]
A pair of mallards on their honeymoon floated downstream, happily enjoying some peace from the marauding bachelor ducks. Then a quick investigation of the area and its cocktail of scents by my neighbour’s spaniel, before the heron reconfirmed its vanity.
I intensified my squint at the minute screen of the camera trap and there it was, the otter, trundling back and forth along the riverbank in the dark. Confident, inquisitive and shimmering with water having emerged from the trout filled river into the moonlight. In an excited rush back to the house, to plug in the SD card and see the otter on a bigger screen, the brambles were unnoticeable!
On my most recent check of ‘Otter Cam’ I nearly flicked passed a video, which at first glance appeared to be a false trigger (often camera traps are set off by a gust of wind pushing foliage around). A few seconds into the clip, however, at the bottom corner appeared a rolling shape of two frolicking otters in the shallow water. In the darkness of their river bend the elusive duo played, undisturbed.
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