The Edge of the Wold

By gladders

Joy, sadness and calm

This might have been another blip of Lily launching herself into the river in madcap joy.  Alas, as we came back towards the car at lunchtime, Lily was sniffing amongst brambles on the ungrazed river bank.  When Matt went to look, he saw that she had found a dead otter.  She had been caught in a snare, there was an unmistakeable indented ring round her abdomen, her body had been unceremoniously dumped out of sight in the longer vegetation by the river.

She was almost certainly the animal we had watched in broad daylight on Tuesday, fishing for crayfish.  We had gone back yesterday and today with cameras ready and hoping for another view.  I shall spare you the photo of the body.  Otters are protected species, the Kendal otters are much loved in the town.  But clearly there is someone out there who has a grudge against them.  Matt has reported the incident to the authorities, a post mortem will be carried out - but it looks like she was drowned after being caught underwater in the snare.  

As ever, a sunset on the estuary was the balm I needed this evening after that experience.  It peaked as Gus and I reached my favourite spot at New Barns.

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