Amazing Views of Otter family on the Torridge

The depth of winter is the best time to see otters along the rivers. They are mainly nocturnal, but are also active on gloomy winter days, especially early in the morning.

So as I drifted down the Torridge on a healthy flow, which didn’t require very much paddling to maintain an impressive speed, I was looking hard for a slithering shape.

In mid-river about a hundred yards ahead I saw an otter porpoising. Just for a fraction of a second. Like this:

Porpoising Otter

I immediately swung my kayak upstream and paddled hard for the bank, making as little splash as possibly. I ran it aground on a little beach, scrambled my camera out of its dry bag, and sat still as a hunting Heron.

Not infrequently this is all I see of an otter, but I was determined to wait to see if it reappeared. After fifteen minutes I was beginning to cramp up because of overzealous lack of movement and was on the point of continuing downstream.

However I immediately resumed my rigidity when I heard the penetrating squeak of a young otter from the other side of the river. A pair of otters then appeared in midstream and started to dive for snacks.

They then swam to the shore and the larger otter, presumably mum, seemed to drop whatever it had caught for the youngster to play with. The shaggy-looking youngster is then very busy indeed snuffling around for the snack.

I sat even stiller, if that was possible, when they came round fallen tree towards me. I felt certain the mother would panic when she came too close but amazingly, even though she was only a few yards away and gave me intense scrutiny, she carried on fishing and swam back downriver.

The youngster in the heart of the bush behind is completely oblivious of any danger and continues its frantic search for something to munch. Mum hasn’t got round to teaching it the principles of wariness and caution, perhaps.

Watch the action for yourself:

Then they just disappeared, as only otters can do.

A few minutes later the chirping on the far bank started up again, and I watched a pair of otters, which I presume were both cubs, splashing and playfighting close to the bank until they disappeared from sight downstream.. Tails thrashing about.

Otter pups play-fighting

A really wonderful sight.

I’m not sure where pup number two was during the initial performance. It appeared to stay on the opposite bank throughout.

Perhaps the best part of this encounter is that none of the otter family seemed to detect my presence. The kayak is king of unobtrusiveness.

Torridge Otters

Dolphins, Dolphins and more Dolphins

A Different Perspective. Video by Henry Kirkwood

When I started doing all this stuff many years ago, I never thought it would be possible to have such remarkable and prolonged views of dolphins, in such calm conditions, from a kayak in Devon in the middle of January. The perfect antidote to what was supposed to be the most depressing day of the year.

Torbay was looking very enticing under the glow of the Wolf Moon.

Wolf Moon over Torbay

Becky and Henry (armed with his new drone) positioned themselves at the end of the breakwater, while I paddled off into the distance across the bay.

Eyes on the ground. Becky and Henry

Eyes on the water. The Lone Kayaker.

A small family party of Common Dolphins that were close to the shore as the sun rose soon disappeared.

Common Dolphins.Two juveniles in the care of mum (right)

The sea then went quiet for much of the day. Normal people would have lost interest and gone home to do some binge-viewing on Netflix. Dolphin fanatics will know, however, that every moment of staring at a blank sea for six hours is absolutely thrilling, because at any second your favourite creature could explode from the surface.

Allowing time for a lunch break, of course.

A wee snackette. (pic: Henry Kirkwood)

Just when we were about to pack up we saw a slow-moving pod far across the bay, over two miles away. Heading in our direction. I paddled over to investigate.

By sheer luck I caught sight of them just as they were devouring a shoal of fish:

Common Dolphins feeding

These were chasing fast moving fish, probably mackerel. We had already noticed that the fishermen were pulling in string after string of mackerel, most fairly small. There were also a lot of shoals of smaller baitfish around which kept all the local gulls interested, including a lot of kittiwakes. These looked like herring.

When the speeding was over, the dolphins swam around at a leisurely pace clearing up the left-overs. Good training for the youngsters. You can see one, stuck close to mum’s side as usual, towards the end of this first clip. I’ve slowed the action down to maximise your viewing pleasure:

Then the action really hotted up. Over towards the end of the pier, where Becky and Henry were watching, there was a mass of gulls in a feeding frenzy. Circling low over the water and making quite a racket.

I engaged top gear and surged towards the melee. I was soon overtaken by the pod of dolphins that I had been watching who had also sensed the activity. Here they are in a bit of a hurry:

Dolphins with a deadline

I cautiously approached the whirling mass of gulls and feeding dolphins…didn’t want to disturb them.

Feeding frenzy

For the next half-an-hour I had a front row seat watching one of the most spectacular feeding events I have ever seen. It was certainly the most noisy. The focus was an intensely feeding mass of gulls, with an entourage of about thirty dolphins cruising about enjoying the feast of silver darlings (herring). I could see that herring were on the menu because every so often a gull would escape the maul and fly away with its prize.

It was a real Blue Planet moment.

I couldn’t resist another visit to the same location(ish) a couple of days later when conditions promised to be even better with a cloudless sky. I was hoping for that perfect dolphin pic in blue water with the sun behind my shoulder.

As usual there was lots to keep the ornithologist in me happy as I paddled out to sea. Guillemots and Razorbills were dotted about:

Razorbill

My favourite bird sighting has to be this incredibly tame Purple Sandpiper. Bird books describe them as ‘plump-looking’. An apt description for a little bird that is completely circular in cross-section, but failing to do justice to its big personality.

Purple Sandpiper

Bingo! After paddling for an hour I saw three dolphins appear ahead of me. They looked big, and interestingly they levered their heads far out of the water each time they surfaced in a sort of double-lifting manner.

Common Dolphin, adult

I’ve seen dolphins do this before and they have always been adults. The adult which I have seen one two occasions along the south Cornwall coast always does it, hence the name ‘Noselifter’. I originally thought it was a result of some injury, or age-related stiffness (tell me about it), but watching these individuals for a long period today I think it is a conscious effort to take a look around above the water. Simple, really.

Nicely demonstrated towards the end of this clip:

Incidentally, you can tell they are adults by the black line which runs from the lower jaw to the pectoral fin. Juveniles lack this feature. Compare these next two pics.

Juvenile Common Dolphin (taken Jan 2019)

Adult Common Dolphins

Dolphin-watching Heaven. Right Here on our Doorstep. In January…What?

Dancing Stoat

A miniature whirling dervish caught my eye as I paddled up the Camel estuary in North Cornwall the other day. Freezing cold, just after dawn, so no-one else about.

Dancing Stoat

The audience of one, a Carrion Crow, seemed to be fascinated. It didn’t want to get too sucked in to the performance, or it would end up as Stoat lunch.

The little fella really turned on the style. That’s quite a jump!

I think this was a juvenile stoat practicing for the real deal when he is grown up. They use this crazy dance to hypnotise/mesmerise their prey, usually rabbits, before moving in for the kill.

There are fewer birds more wily than a Carrion Crow, so although it seems to be lured towards the mini-predator as if in one of those nightmares, it is unlikely to get close enough to be caught.

If you too are fascinated by one of the classic, but rarely seen, sights of the English countryside, here’s the full two minute video…

Don’t get hooked.

Dolphin Family Fun

Common Dolphins

I’m not sure which aspect of the dolphin’s wide range of qualities appeals to me most. The energy, the splashiness, the playfulness, the charisma, the curiosity, the contented smile, the absence of fear of an old guy in a kayak.

Smiling Dolphins

Or maybe it’s their commitment to their family. I had the pleasure of observing this at close hand today for a long period of time in very calm conditions close to the shore.

It was not something I was expecting when I was planning the trip. After weeks of strong winds there was a weather window of just one day. Good enough for a coastal trip along an east-facing shore, but not quiet enough to spend time at the cetacean hot-spot off Berry Head.

So my Plan B was to paddle across Torbay close to the coast, and nose a bit further offshore if the wind was lighter than forecast.

The first wildlife excitement were a couple of ornithological nuggets.

A handful of Purple Sandpipers at the end of Brixham breakwater…

Purple Sandpiper

Plus a pair of Black-throated Divers out in the bay. i was very pleased with this sighting…my first ever sighting of black-throats in Devon.

Black-throated Divers

Surface conditions were better than I had hoped. It was smooth close-in with a gentle offshore breeze. All made infinitely better by blue skies and just enough oomph in the sun to feel a hint of warmth on my face.

I could hardly believe my eyeballs when I glimpsed a host of fins break the surface about a quarter of a mile offshore. Heading my way, too!

Common Dolphins, Torbay (2adult, 2 Juvenile)

My coffee break was put on hold as I paddled out to investigate. I cautiously swung in alongside the pod and joined the formation, which was cruising along at a comfortable pace of about three mph… how convenient.

It was quite a big pod of Common Dolphins. I estimated thirty but it could have been forty. There was a huge range of sizes. About a dozen adults and a large number of adolescents. Plus two very small calves which no doubt set the steady speed of the pod.

One adult looked like it had been in the dolphin equivalent of a bar-room brawl. It had a deformed upper beak and cataract in its right eye:

Battle-scarred Adult Dolphin

The ‘teenagers’ showed a passing interest in me and splashed on their side just in front of my kayak, but overall the group were aloof and just cruised on along the coast. I got the impression that looking after the small calves was their foremost priority.

I kept my distance. Even though a kayak is about as unobtrusive as any craft can be, I didn’t want to spook the dolphins. If they approach me, that is fine.

I paddled alongside them for over half-an-hour and the super-relaxing conditions (not bad for 5 Jan!) allowed me to scrutinise their every move. One of the best Common Dolphin encounters I have ever had…they are generally an offshore species so I am frequently an hour’s paddle from the shore and the sea is usually lumpy. Not conducive to hanging around.

Overall their behaviour was very restrained with a minimal amount of splashing. The adults intermittently took a look above the surface and fell back with a bit of a bellyflop, and the juveniles occasionally did a bit of a swirl. Every so often the whole pod would submerge for a minute, probably to feed, but the calves could not stay down for long so would soon be back up with mum close by as always.

It was the calves who stole the show. They were doing the dolphin-equivalent of a skipping lamb. Surging about all over the place and every so often jumping right out and landing back with a very modest splash. Their mothers followed close behind in a patient but proud sort of way.

You can see the calf every so often in this video clip. It is the last one to break the surface, just in front of my kayak.

Fun, fun, fun.

Common Dolphin calf

Particularly for me…

In Search of Otters on the Torridge with Hezzer

River Torridge

If you spend four hours paddling a kayak down a river in Devon at the end of December looking for otters, you will end up cold (certainly) and disappointed (probably). Otters in rivers are staggeringly difficult to observe.

But it’s certainly worth the effort of you catch a glimpse of one slithering through the ripples. If you are a wildlife nut it really is a magical moment, and even better when it is in the legendary home of Tarka the Otter, the River Torridge.

Henry (aka Hezzer) was keen to try out his new big lens on his Canon DSLR camera, so I suggested the Torridge might be a good bet. The river levels were lowish after a dry spell, and the water clear.

So with camera wrapped up in a dry bag, and ourselves wrapped up in drysuits, we set off downriver in my super-comfortable (and hopefully non-leaking) Gumotex Seawave inflatable kayak. Lots of room for a few Christmas snackettes to boost morale.

We spoke in whispers, because if you want to see an otter you have got to be absolutely silent the entire time.

Dippers and Kingfishers zipped up and down the banks as we floated past.

A handful of Goosanders took to the air in front of us, although one female was rather more confiding:

Goosander, River Torridge (pic: Henry Kirkwood)

The first big excitement was above our heads. A hawk was circling in front of a stand of tall pines. The same basic outline as a Sparrowhawk, but significantly more beefy…more the size of a Buzzard.

Goshawk!

Goshawk (pic: Henry Kirkwood)

After two hours of intense concentration and scrutiny of every centimetre of river bank that we passed, our eyes and ears were tuned to perfection. If an ant sneezed a hundred metres away we would have heard (and seen) it.

We were totally and utterly engrossed in nature. The anticipation was tremendously exciting even if we didn’t see an otter.

But we did.

I caught a momentary glimpse of a smooth back arching out of the water before it disappeared behind a fallen tree close to the right-hand bank. I hissed to Hezzer and pointed with the blade of paddle before slamming into reverse gear, making as little splash and noise as I could.

I swung the kayak round and held it in position pointing upstream, matching forward speed with river flow.

Two otters surfaced very close to the bank, and then came out into the middle of the river. Every time they dived I paddled a bit closer to the bank. Each time they surfaced we froze. They were focussed on fishing and chasing each other about so they didn’t notice us.

We had a very reasonable view of them at a range of about twenty yards. They worked their way upstream in a completely effortless manner, whereas I was floundering against the relentless current, so tucked in beside the right hand bank and clutched a root so Hezzer could get some pics.

Not easy, they always seemed to travel further underwater than we anticipated.

Otters first sight (pic: Henry Kirkwood)

When they disappeared around the corner Hezzer clambered up the bank and set off in pursuit while I sat and slurped a cup of coffee.

Then I heard the squeak, or ‘chirp’, of a young otter. A very bird-like call but louder and more penetrating. A noise I have heard five or six times before. It seemed to be getting closer along the foot of the bank so I just sat absolutely still in the kayak and waited.

An otter pup surfaced a few feet away and swam right past. Probably the smallest youngster I have ever seen…excluding its tail about a foot long. In typical otter style it then completely disappeared, but I could hear the chirp receding into the distance.

Hezzer then re-appeared with tales of just missing the perfect pic as an otter surfaced right in front of him as he stood on the bank.

Torridge Otter (pic: Henry Kirkwood)

He seemed disappointed with the pics he took…but they look pretty good to me!

They also tell an interesting story. We had thought the pair was a mother and cub, but looking at the pics it would appear to be a female being pursued by a male, as Hezzer’s final images appear to be of a pair mating!

Otters mating, River Torridge (pic: henry Kirkwood)

So it was worth making the effort to get out into the rain and the wind and the cold. It certainly appeared that our stealth tactics had paid off, with a sighting of the most elusive big bird in the UK (the Goshawk) plus a trio of the most elusive large mammals in the UK.

Even better is that I don’t think the otters we were watching ever detected our presence.

A real Christmas cracker.

Otters mating, River Torridge (pic: Henry Kirkwood)