W
henI wastenyearsold,I wasgiven
a copyofoneofthemostevocative
animalstoriestoread.Onthecover
wasa sceneofa riverbankwith
moonlitreeds.Beforethemskulked
a shadowysilhouette.Withhis
glisteningeyes,whiskeredmuzzleandstealthyform,Tarka
theOtterenticedmeintohisworld.Foryearsafterreading
HenryWilliamson’sTarkaI searchedforthemintheRiver
OuseinLewes,Sussex,whereI wasbroughtup.Butdueto
pollution,destructionofhabitatandpersecution,theywere
extinctinmostcountiesinEnglandandWales.LaterI
movedtoDevonwhere,highonDartmoor,theotterhad
stillbeenbreedinginsmallnumbers.Butit wasnotuntil
I wasanadult,whentheotterhadbeenawardedEuropean
protectionanditshabitatswererestored,thattheirnumbers
recoveredI eventuallysawanotterinthewild.Thanksto
theNationalOtterSurveys,wenowknowthatevery county
inEnglandhasa returning population of this shy mustelid.
TarkaCountryin North Devon has been designated
theUK’sfirstUnesco Biosphere Reserve due to its uniquely
richecosystem,partly thanks to the attraction of Henry
Williamson’swriting. We have the Tarka trail and the
Tarkaline,butforme it will always be this description in
thestorythatfirstconnected me to the animal:
“Twilightuponmeadow and water, the eve-star shiningabove the hill, and Old Nog the heron crying kra-a-ark!
as his slow wings carried him down to the estuary.
A whiteness drifting above the sere reeds of the riverside,
for the owl had f lown from under the middle arch of the
stone bridge that once carried the canal across the river.”
The poet Ted Hughes once remarked that when he read
Tarka as an 11-year-old, it “entered me and gave shape and
words to my world, as no book has ever done since...”
It is often stories that alert our sensitivity to nature.
These days, living in our towns and cossetted by central
heating and entertained by digital technology, getting out
is not easy for everyone and books are a good start.
Sometimes, nature comes to us, though: spending long
hours by the River Dart near my home, I began to learn
about how to identify signs that otters were there. I found
their tracks and their oily black droppings, called spraint.
Once you understand the otter’s shy habits, you’re more
likely to know where to see them. Witnessing an otter is
one of life’s special gifts. They remind us, as the poet Ken
Steven once said, “that we are still alive/ that the land’s
edges have not lost their map-less unknown.”
The otter became an icon of nature conservation,
cherished by all. Its recovery and return to our rivers is
a heartening success story.
Miriam Darlington’s books are Otter Country (Granta)
and Owl Sense (Faber). ILLUSTRATION: ZUZA MIŚKOWords:MIRIAM DARLINGTONA
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