Otter magic on Scotland’s Isle of Mull

Mull’s magical otters

I spent a magical week filming a family of otters on the Isle of Mull. The Scottish peninsular is renowned for its wild otters and didn’t disappoint.  The very moment I arrived I was greeted by the sight of a dog otter fishing in the waters of the loch right in front of the cottage I was to stay in. 

I couldn’t wait to start filming and so abandoned the job of unpacking and set my cameras rolling just as the otter landed with a large fish. It was 60 metres from the cottage’s front doorstep. 

The otter finished its meal and began hunting along the shoreline. I followed cautiously, only moving when it dove underwater and crouching down in the bracken just before it surfaced.  

Following wild otters

In this, halting, way I could follow the otter quite closely without it spotting me. As it travelled through the seaweed its long, sinuous body seemed as fluid as the water; twisting and turning through half-submerged rocks.   I noticed the otter couldn’t resist leaving its spraint on virtually every rock as it made its way along the shore. Clearly this was a dominant dog otter.  It was dusk when it finally drifted off to sleep on a rock just a few metres off the shoreline. I watched, enthralled to think that a mammal normally so elusive was so unaware of my presence it could fall to sleep.  

Half an hour later the otter woke and after a short scratch it slipped back into the water and was hunting again.  When it came to a spot where a freshwater stream ran into the sea, the otter swam up the stream heading straight towards me. I stood frozen to the spot as it began swirling around a small pool by a road bridge, rinsing the salt water from its fur.  Then it swam under the bridge and climbed out of the water, leaving one more spraint on the rocks beside the stream before heading off into the gloom.   It was too dark to film by now and so I turned back to the cottage, not quite believing how lucky I had been to have had such a close encounter so soon after arriving.  

Little did I know that this was just the beginning of what turned out to be the most incredible week of watching otters I’ve ever experienced.  The following morning the dog otter was out in the loch hunting. I watched as he dove deep and then popped up like a cork. He was mainly catching butter fish which are small enough for it to eat out at sea.  I spent the rest of the day following him as he hunted, sometimes landing his catch if it was a crab or a larger fish that needed to be held down whilst he ate. 

Finding a family of otters

His day followed a pattern of hunting, resting, grooming and then heading back out to fish again, and ended, like the last, at a freshwater stream where he drank, rinsed off, then headed inland.  But although I had learned a lot watching him, what I really wanted to see was a female with cubs. And so that evening I headed out to see if I could find a family.  As I set off, the dog otter was out at sea fishing again. I left him to it and drove a few miles further down the coast where I spotted another single otter fishing in the loch. Again I passed on by, something I found difficult to do since normally I would feel compelled to stop and watch. 

Then, after scanning the shoreline every few hundred metres, I spotted not one, but two otters: a female with a cub almost the same size as she was. It was too dark to film by now so I just watched them hunting together along the edge of the loch.  Then they headed into a large pile of rocks under a lone mountain ash tree. One cub climbed onto a large rock and left a spraint before disappearing out of sight. I suspected that this was their holt and so I returned at dawn the following morning and waited.  

Otter mum and cubs

But after five hours there was still no sign of them and so I decided to head along the shore to see if I could find them. Otters hunt at night and this family could have travelled a long way since I last spotted them. I spotted a ripple in the water. It was the female and her cub. It was now 15 hours since I had last seen these otters, but the wait had been worth it because I could now see there was a second cub with them. 

I walked along the road towards them and just as I was getting close, all three otters came out of the sea and crossed the road in front of me, heading inland.  At first I thought they might be going to another holt, but I watched them pass through someone’s garden, across a stream and then back out to sea and realised they were taking a 700m land detour to avoid a busy fish farm. I positioned myself further along their path, tucking myself into some rocks so as not to disturb them. There was very little wind, but it was blowing inshore and so I was confident the otters wouldn’t be able to smell me when they passed.  

It was fascinating to see how the family hunted together, working as a team. Swimming in tight formation, the cubs took their cue from the female. When she dove, they dove.  

In this way they flushed out fish and as the fish tried to jump free, the otters caught them floundering in the seaweed.  The cubs were accomplished hunters but whenever the female caught a fish or a crab they hurried over to her, creating a bow wave in their rush to grab at her catch. 

Most of the time she let them take it, but sometimes she fought them off and ate the prey herself.  As the trio passed by my hiding place, I took my eye away from my camera lens to just watch. One cub was much bigger than the other. I guessed they were a male and female.  I let them pass by and then set off along the shoreline to try to get ahead of them again. Using this technique, I kept up with them for hour;, each time getting a bit ahead and then waiting for them to pass.  

On a few occasions the otter family paused to regroup, piling up together on the seaweed and grooming one another. The cubs would climb over the female as if she was just another rock. They were still suckling milk and her body was noticeably thinner when compared to her plump cubs. The tide was low and there was a lot of bladder wrack seaweed floating in the shallow water. As the otters passed underneath it the seaweed moved and occasionally an inquisitive otter head would pop out. 

The cubs where playful and mischievous as they hunted, but the female was methodical.  After a while the family turned back. I watched them run across the road to bypass the fish farm once again, and, assuming they were heading back to their holt, I too headed back there. But despite waiting by the holt for a total of five hours, the otter family didn’t turn up.  

Otters are elusive

The following day I spent a further eight hours searching for the female and her cubs and again had no luck. Disheartened, I headed back to see if the dog otter was still out.  

Sure enough he was there, fishing. I watched him head to a large yellow fishing buoy in the water. Amazingly he hauled himself up it and balanced precariously to leave a spraint on top as the buoy wobbled about in the water. 

I spent the afternoon watching this otter fish and groom. When he dozed off to sleep I decided to see if I could find the female again. By late afternoon I had found her, just half a mile from where I had seen her the previous day.  The family had clearly been hunting for some time because the cubs looked tired and kept trying to curl up to sleep on the rocks. But the female nuzzled them, encouraging them on.

Otter cubs are tired

Eventually they all curled up in the seaweed and she let the cubs suckle. Then, revived, they were off again, heading towards the far end of the loch. 

I was interested to know what they would do when they reached the sandy beach at the end, since here the chances of finding anything to eat were slim. But the female gathered her cubs up and swam across the loch instead. 

Together they crossed the half-mile of water, the female leading the way with her cubs streamlined in her slipstream. At times the cubs tried climbing onto her back, but she swam on determined. When they reached landfall on the other side, she ran up the shore into a large pile of rocks. I presume this was another holt.  The tide was high the next morning and I soon spotted the group fishing out at sea. Up until now I had only seen them fish along the shoreline where they were often hidden by seaweed and rocks, but now they were catching butter fish in the deeper water and I had a clearer view of them.  

But otter mum exhausted

I spotted the male cub catch a crab and drag it onto the rocks. The females didn’t wait for him and by the time he re-entered the water he was 60 yards behind. He began peeping, a high-pitched appeal for them to wait, but the females ignored his cries.  Then the female cub also landed a catch and was also left behind. The female glanced at them but then turned away. The cubs were almost big enough not to need constant guarding and it was clear she was exhausted.    

I saw her slink away and curl up to sleep on the shore. The cubs meanwhile found each other and called out in unison, trying to find her. She spent the rest of the day alone, eating and sleeping. She clearly needed to regain her strength.  But the next day she was out with the cubs again, all three hunting together. Pipe fish and butter fish, blemming fish and crabs were all on the menu. 

Danger looms for cubs

Then I saw her stiffen, holding her head low. I followed her gaze and spotted the dog otter fishing nearby. Dog otters can be a threat to cubs if they are not related. The female quickly gathered up the cubs and all three started to swim so sleekly they barely made any ripples. Otters do this when they are in stealth mode.  It wasn’t long, however, before they all settled back to fishing. Clearly the danger had passed.  

Then they all came to a small rock pool, just big enough to fit all three otters, and there was a moment of pure joy as the cubs started playing with a stone, taking it in turns to chase and push it around with their noses and paws.  Eventually the family moved on and came to a stream where I had seen the dog otter before. I noticed them sniff the ground where the dog otter had left its spraint and they all left fresh spraint on top of it. Then they drank and headed up stream, washing off in a pool before heading under a road culvert. 

Otterly magical

Half an hour later the male caught up with them. He had smelled their scent and was carefully tracing their steps, making his territory several times as he went. Then he headed up the culvert after them. I waited, listening intently, but there was no sound or sign of the otters. I hoped that he was the father of these cubs and that all was well.  On my final day I had a few hours to spare before I caught the ferry and so I went down to the shore for one last look for the otters. The sun was rising and the dog otter was already out at sea. The water was so still and every time he surfaced he created golden rings of light. It was magical.