Michael Broad - Otter Chaos - The Dam Busters

“They mentioned a mother too,” said Woody.

“And sisters,” added Sooty.

“A whole family?” said Mama Brown, furrowing her brow.

“Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about,” chirped Mama Black, seeing the frowning young otters peering up at her. And when the other adults saw the concerned looks on the youngsters’ faces, they immediately agreed and smiled.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” said Papa Brown.

“Nothing at all,” added Papa Black.

“It’s getting late,” said Mama Brown.

“Time for bed then,” said Mama Black.

“Yes, come along, sleepy pups,” said Grandma Maple merrily, herding the young otters towards the indoor pool. “Let’s get those paws and furry faces washed and then it’s off to beddie-byes for all of us!”

Woody and Sooty thought the beaver sighting was odd, but hadn’t really thought there was anything to worry about. Not until their parents started saying there was nothing to worry about!

“Why do you think everyone behaved so strangely when we mentioned the beavers?” whispered Woody, as they lay in their grass and moss beds.

“Maybe they think the beaver family are the ones who used to live here,” said Sooty. “And they’re afraid they might want to take Cottonwood Lodge back.”

“But the beavers didn’t come this far down river,” said Woody. “And they would know where their old home was. It looked to me as though they’d never been around these parts before.”

“I agree,” said Sooty, with obvious relief. “So there’s probably nothing to worry about after all. The grown-ups are just being weird again, as usual.”

Woody and Sooty both laughed until a series of loud “SHHH!” noises came from the other chambers. They stifled their giggles and settled down to sleep, happy in the knowledge that all was well in their riverside world and nothing terrible was going to happen.

he following morning was warm and sunny, but instead of waking to the sound of birds singing cheerfully and dragonflies fluttering dreamily, the two otter families were startled awake by the familiar voice of Beanie Brown, from outside the den.

“SOMETHING TERRIBLE HAS HAPPENED!” she cried.

There was a sudden surge of activity as dozens of panicking otters raced out of their chambers, through the tunnels and out on to the mooring pad, where they found Beanie gazing into the tranquil water.

“What’s wrong, my darling?” gasped Mama Brown.

“Yes, tell us, my dear,” added Grandma Maple.

Woody Brown knew his shy sister could become even more unconfident when put on the spot, so he stepped alongside Beanie and held her paw. “What is it?” he whispered.

Beanie frowned at Woody and then pointed to the water.

The assembled otters moved closer to the edge of the mooring pad and peered into the river, expecting to see something terrifying like a crocodile or an alligator. What they saw was … absolutely nothing.

“There’s nothing there, sis,” whispered Woody.

“I know,” said Beanie, sniffing and wiping her shiny black nose with a paw.

Woody Brown looked into the river again and considered why Beanie might be up before everyone else and what could possibly make her scream in terror – and then gasped when he eventually worked it out.

“The fish have all gone!” he said.

“Fish don’t just vanish overnight,” said Grandma Maple, dipping her tail in the water and swishing it from side to side, in the hope of drawing a few nibbles to the surface. “They must be just hiding.”

As the main providers of food for both families, Papa Brown and Papa Black dived into the river. They darted about deep underwater, stirring up clouds of bubbles intended to scare up any fish that might be lurking at the bottom, but there was nothing except riverweed, rocks and old empty shells.

Mama Brown clutched the paws of Mama Black as their husbands returned to the surface and shook their heads gravely. The rest of the otters appeared baffled by the mystery, with the exception of Grandpa Bruno, whose eyes widened as he understood what had happened.

“Beavers!” growled the old otter.

“Beavers!” agreed Grandpa Jack.

“How could beavers steal all of our fish?” asked Woody.

“They don’t steal them,” said Grandpa Bruno. “They stop them.”

The old brown otter jumped into the water and swam to the middle of the river where he could see past the bend. “They’ve built a dam right across, just a short way upstream,” he yelled. “All of our fish have carried on swimming downstream and no new ones can get through.”

“They’ve blocked the flow of the river!” gasped Grandma Maple.

The black and brown otters all dived into the water and swam out to Grandpa Bruno and saw for themselves that the dam was huge. There was an enormous felled tree, its trunk stripped, stretching from one bank to the other. Along its length the trunk was piled high with branches and logs, all packed tightly together with mud and grass. There was also the bristly roof of a lodge on the riverbank that had to be the beavers’ home.

“Everyone back to Cottonwood Lodge,” growled Grandpa Bruno, snorting through his nostrils. “I’m going to have a polite word with our new neighbours.”

“I’ll come too,” added Grandpa Jack. The old black otter knew only too well how hot-headed Bruno could be and wanted to keep an eye on him.

“You’re not going without us!” said Papa Black and Papa Brown.

“Be careful, all of you,” warned Grandma Maple, looking fretful. “I don’t want any trouble.”

Mama Black and Mama Brown made their husbands promise to be safe and to look after the old boxers, whose advancing years had done nothing to quell their fighting spirit. Then the two wives hugged and rubbed noses with their husbands, waved them off and herded the young otters back to the lodge.

Along the way the mother otters answered questions about beavers from Coal and Beanie, calmed fears of fish-oil shortages from Coco and Berry and told the two sets of twins to stop squabbling, all the while assuring Grandma Maple that Grandpa Bruno would return in one piece. So it was no wonder they failed to notice that two young pups were missing.

Woody and Sooty had crept away to spy on the elder males, swimming silently as they approached the dam. Then they hid behind an overhanging tree and watched as Papa Black and Papa Brown called into the entrance of the beaver lodge. The grandpas were grumbling and growling like a pair of grumpy gargoyles.

“Hello?” called Papa Black.

“Is there anyone home?” added Papa Brown.

“They must be home,” said Grandpa Jack.

“Eating our fish, no doubt!” snorted Grandpa Bruno.

“Stop that,” warned Papa Brown. “We’re being polite, remember?”

Papa Black was about to call into the dark hole once again when he heard movement from inside. The four otters stepped back just as a big rust-coloured beaver stepped out, bleary-eyed and scratching his head.

“What’s all this noise about?” he growled, and then yawned. The beaver had obviously been fast asleep and didn’t appreciate being woken up. “Don’t you know I work nights?”

“Well, that’s what we’ve come about,” said Papa Black, motioning to the felled tree and mesh of branches blocking the flow of water. “You appear to have spent the whole night building a dam that happens to be very close to our lodge.”

“Our river level is now rather low and moves much more slowly,” added Papa Brown, seeing how high the river was on the other side of the dam. “And it also appears to be entirely fish free.”

“So?” said the beaver.

“We were wondering if you wouldn’t mind moving it somewhere else,” Papa Black smiled, hopefully. “You see, there are eighteen otters already living on this section of river, all with hearty appetites, and we were here first.”