Titled: Sea Otter - Putting His Feet Up
Artist: Mark Hobson
In many ways I've had a charmed childhood. I grew up in a small village in Wales: Llanrhaeadr Ym Mochnant, and when I turned 10, my parents sent me to boarding school in Ireland. I'd spend the week at the school, and weekends with my grandmother who lived jut outside of Dublin on Howth Head. A beautiful spot. When I was 12 my family moved to Canada, Victoria on Vancouver Island, to be exact. I spent many happy years growing up there and have some very fond and funny memories....some of which I'd like to share with you.
It's about otters and how I got to be rather familiar with them.
Come below the flowing orange kelp and I'll regale you with tales from yesteryear and awesome pics.
These are river otters, distinct from sea otters by their shorter necks and broader heads. They have better vision than sea otters, and although they can be in the ocean, they require fresh water to clean their fur.
When I was 16, my brother, who was then 19, was walking to work one day and saw two river otters in the front window of a pet store in downtown Victoria. He inquired about them from the owners of the store who told him they were Taiwanese river otters and were brother and sister, taken in captivity when very young, just pups. My brother admired them, but wasn't able (or willing) to buy them.
Weeks passed and my brother noticed the store had closed, but the otters were still there in the front window. He kept an eye on them for a couple more days, realizing they had been left there to die. They had no food or fresh water. My brother decided to rescue them, and after buying a plastic garbage bin, threw a rock through the window. He quickly manuevered the otters into the bin and brought them home. He did phone the police and told them what he'd done. They didn't charge him with B&E, thank goodness!
He somehow cajoled my mother into letting him keep the two otters...don't ask me how! He built a cage in his bedroom for them and warned all of us to be careful going into his room. The male, who he named Bilbo Baggins (the hobbit, animated version, was playing in theatres at the time) was aggressive and would bite. I lost a good thick pair of leather shoes to Bilbo! He attacked the tips every time I visited them. My brother bought smelt (a type of small fish) to feed them. He put water in the bathtub once and tried to coax the otters to go in and feed, but they were having none of that! We thought that perhaps, since they were captured so young, they didn't know what to do with lots of water.
The female, Tiki ( I think named after the Kon Tiki) was tamer than her brother. She was quite biddable and would follow my brother when he called to her. He had put up a child gate at the top of the stairs and sometimes, when he was there, let them have the run of the upstairs. One night, I had just gotten into bed when Tiki showed up in my bedroom. She hopped on my bed and began sniffing around. Eventually she made her way up to my head. Knowing she could bite if I moved suddenly, I kept very still. After exploring my hair, she settled down against me and went to sleep. He brother poked his head in, looking for her. He was shocked to find her curled up behind my back and ran for his heavy leather gloves, telling me not to move a muscle ( DUH!!) He managed to picked up and carry her back to her cage. Whew!!!
The thick leather gloves were the only way to safely handle an animal that could easily bite off your entire finger or nose with just one bite. We all learned NOT to put our hands down for Blbo or Tiki to sniff. We all (I have three brothers and two sisters) still have our fingers, toes and noses!
A week or so later, after Tiki had tried to sleep with me, my mother was having a meeting of the Ladies Auxiliary in our livingroom. There were about 10 ladies, all nicely dressed, discussing the hospital business....when an imp got into my brother. He let Tiki downstairs and coaxed her into the living room. I never saw ladies scramble so quickly onto their chairs!!!! Tiki thought it was great! A new place to explore and new people to meet...too bad they were out of reach and making awful noises.
Not long after that, my pissed off mother insisted my brother find Bilbo and Tiki a new home. The house stunk of rotting fish and the otters were just a little TOO dangerous to have as house pets. My brother found a great place for them with the Vancouver Aquarium. They were shipped over to their new digs, which included a sort of river (water running through moulded plastic troughs) with water slides just perfect for otters to play in. They were very happy there. I managed to visit them once and they were playing in the water, wriggling around and going down the slide. Sadly, they died a year later at about 6 or7 years old.
My brother always was a bit of an oddball. He not only had otters, for pets, but he had a goat, named Mildred, and two white ducks. Mildred and I would play together very often. Her favourite game was chase. I was usually the chasee. If she caught me she'd headbump me and push me over, them whuffle and tickle my face with her whiskers. Her other favourite was "who has the hardest head"....yeah....never play that with a goat. I had spectacular headaches for a while and saw stars.... often. She had a really hard head and liked to put a jump into that headbutt....ouch!!!
There were walkies time that were really funny. My brother would put a leash on Mildred and let out the ducks and the dog. Then everybody would line up...including the cat. They'd all walk down the road in a line. Mildred first, then the dog, then the ducks, who liked to argue with each other...I guess the cat was either hungry or curious...I dunno, but he formed the rear. The neighbours thought it was hilarious and didn't mind when Mildred stopped for a snack on their shrubs and trees.
My brother should be retiring this year. He teaches Physics, rugby and photography and a prestigious private school on the Island. He's still a hippie, just a hippie with money. He still wears socks and sandals and shorts...all winter.
One his best friends is the artist, Mark Hobson, who painted the top pic in this diary. Mark is an old family friend. We all knew him in our teens. I was surprised to find him still living on the Island and had made a name for himself as an artist of international renown. Here's another of his paintings:
I would like to note: keeping a wild animal as a pet is not optimal for the animal. It can be a cruelty for the animal, who is denied a better, fuller life in their natural habitat. I abhor those who poach animals and sell them to pet suppliers. I completely detest those who capture wild animals for food or fighting markets. Those who hunt for food for themselves and their families only, are exempt from my disgust.