Went back to visit the young cubs today. Left the boat at opposite side of the isle so as to make a silent approach. From the top of the hill where I cross the isle I scan with my scope, the tide is ebbing, I just catch a glimpse of the mother as she slips into the water and heads out to feed. I watch for a few minutes till she is some distance away, diving on her favourite reefs.
I keep an eye on the wind and keep low and out of view from the cubs, who I hope will be in the usual place close to the shore. When I reach the old drystone wall of the old sheep pen, I pear through the gap as I have done so many times before and there they are, seemingly a little livelier than last time I think to myself as I watch them play on the bank.
They stay very close to a hollow on the grassy bank, the same hollow that many an otter has made a bed of before. I watch them for about a half an hour, playful but not yet as mischievous as they soon will be. The overcast day Id been thinking was not too bad soon turns into retched rain, the wind starts to rise as I think to myself its time for home.
