I know my otter isn’t really a ghost, but for a week or so we really wondered if Will had actually seen what he thought he had.
A little gray head, the V of the water surrounding him, swimming away from our dock in the midst of calm morning water…well, that looked like an otter to Will. And then it disappeared as Will ran to get a better view from a different window.
Uh, where did it go?
Then on Tuesday morning as I sat here at my desk looking at the bay, there was the otter. Swimming towards the dock in the glassy water. And then, as I raced to another window to follow its progress, it was gone.
I googled “otters”, of course. River otters can hold their breath under water for eight minutes. At the rate of speed they swim, they could travel a long way–way past our window range–in eight minutes. In our years here at the lake, this was the first summer to see an otter. We suspect he lives around the bend, in a quiet little Forest Service-owned part of the bay sandwiched between homeowners. Has he been fishing for bass underneath our dock?
“Watching for the otter” is now on my morning to-do list, along with “watching for the geese” and “watching for the eagle” (who shocked me by flying just above the water between the dock and the beach on Monday morning–he was huge!). And of course, there is always “listening for the osprey”.
As you can see, I am very busy.
Today is exciting because we are driving to Clark Fork this afternoon to pick up books at the library (open three days a week, masks required), go to the dump, and get ice cream at The Pantry (masks optional but always a good idea for my guys, who will wear them).
Such is quarantining at the lake.
It’s going to be a quiet summer. And that’s just fine with us.