Otter Chaos! (5 page)

When the otters turned the bend in the river, they all sprinted for the safety of Cottonwood Lodge. The beavers were only chasing the adults, really, so the young otters reached the lodge first. They leapt out of the water on to the mooring pad, swiftly followed by the grown-ups. Once they'd all scrambled inside, the Blacks and the Browns collapsed in a wet heap, gasping for breath.

“Are they still out there?” panted Mama Black.

“What are they doing?” gasped Mama Brown.

The papas and grandpas peered though the holes in the woven outer walls of the lodge and scanned the river. Chuck and Twiggy were bobbing in the water, glaring at the otter lodge. They shook their fists when they saw otter eyeballs peeping at them.

“Stay away from our dam!” yelled Chuck.

“Or we'll smash this place to splinters!” added Twiggy.

The pair flicked their tails crossly before paddling back upstream, followed by their three large beaver daughters. Chip, however, was only just arriving. His sisters shook their heads and motioned for him to turn round and head back to the dam.

“They're going home now,” said Grandpa Jack.

“Good riddance too!” growled Grandpa Bruno.

“We're lucky they didn't attack the lodge,” said Papa Black, patting the sturdy wooden structure. “With their teeth they could have turned it into a pile of sawdust in no time.”

“Especially after what we did to their dam,” agreed Papa Brown. “I know it was an accident and we only wanted to make a few holes, but they must think we set out to demolish it.”

“They're builders,” said Grandma Maple wisely.

“What do you mean?” asked Mama Black.

“Maybe it's not in their nature to destroy things,” she explained.

“They destroy trees,” said Mama Black.

“And cut off other animals' food supplies,” added Mama Brown.

“Perhaps they didn't mean to cut off the fish,” said Grandma Maple. “Maybe it was just an accident and we've misjudged them.”

“If that's true then we may still be able to reason with them and reach a compromise,” Mama Brown said hopefully. “When the dust has settled, of course.”

“They might even let a few of us climb the dam each day to fish on the high side of the river,” said Mama Black. “Or dig an underwater access tunnel.”

“I'm not crawling through a dam!” gasped Coco. “It snagged my coat just swimming near it earlier. I'd probably go bald if I had to crawl through a hole with twigs pulling out tufts of fur!”

“I agree,” huffed Berry. “I'd rather eat riverweed!”

“Maybe we should all eat riverweed,” said Grandma Maple, fully aware that plans made in the heat of the moment were not always the best. “At least until everyone calms down – us and the beavers. Then we can all come back together and decide what to do.”

“We should fight to the death!” snarled Grandpa Bruno.

“Hear, hear!” growled Grandpa Jack.

“I think you've both done enough fighting for one lifetime,” Grandma Maple replied firmly. “Now we're going to try the
opposite
of fighting and see where that takes us.”

“What's the opposite of fighting?” the old otters said together, frowning.

“Eating vegetables!” she smiled.

he following days of eating only vegetables did not have the calming effect on the otters that Grandma Maple had hoped for. Mama Black and Mama Brown sent everyone out to forage for any interesting edible vegetation they could lay their paws on and everyone came back with riverweed. There were a couple of berries and a few tufts of grass too, but the rest was riverweed – great slimy mounds of the stuff!

Mama Black and Mama Brown then set to work preparing a selection of new meals. On day one there was riverweed soup, which was riverweed served in river water. Day two was riverweed stew, which was riverweed in river water, with extra big lumps of riverweed. Day three saw a special riverweed salad, with a grass and berry garnish. But a bird swooped down and grabbed the berries, so it became just a pile of riverweed with grass on it. On the fourth day they prepared a vegetarian version of their ever-popular fish wraps. These certainly looked the part, but where the original recipe called for delicious oily fish-heads to be dunked in clam juice and then wrapped in riverweed, all that was inside the new version was more riverweed.

No one took to being vegetarian and everyone became increasingly bad tempered, all secretly wondering if their bellies would ever feel full again.

Woody and Sooty sneaked out one night and returned to the overhanging tree, just to gaze at the moonlit dam and imagine all the crayfish swimming on the other side.

“Think of all those crunchy claws!” sighed Woody.

“And the tasty tails too,” added Sooty.

“Hello!” said an unfamiliar voice behind them.

The otters squeaked when they saw a beaver bobbing in the water, its big teeth gleaming in the moonlight. Then they realised it was the young kit, Chip, and he was smiling at them cheerfully.

“Hello,” the otters replied together.

“I'm sorry about the dam and the fish,” Chip said awkwardly. “And for chasing your family down the river. My dad is pretty stubborn when it comes to his building work.”

“It's not your fault,” said Woody. “And we did break the last dam.”

“Our parents can be just as stubborn,” added Sooty. “Grown-ups are weird.”

“Do you want to play?” Chip asked hopefully. “I've been working on an obstacle course that I usually run on my own, but it'll be much more fun with three of us!”

The otter pups nodded eagerly and followed the beaver up the bank as he vanished into the woods. Chip led the otters to a huge adventure playground he had built himself, using logs and vines and anything else he could lay his paws on. There were rope-swings, seesaws, slides and climbing walls, all running up and down and round the trees.

“WOW!” exclaimed Woody and Sooty.

“Last one round is a rotten clam!” laughed Chip.

The beaver ran for the start line, with the otters chasing after him and catching up in no time. The otters were faster, but the beaver was familiar with the obstacles, so the trio overtook each other throughout the whole course, tugging tails and roaring with laughter. Woody and Sooty then helped Chip build even more obstacles from plans he scratched out in the mud. The otters and the beaver raced each other a few more times until they all collapsed in a heap, rolling around and giggling, like the very best of friends.

“I thought your dad said you were no good at building,” panted Woody, looking up at all the complicated network of ramps and pulleys. “What you've done here is completely brilliant!”

“You should definitely show this to your dad,” added Sooty. “Once he sees how clever you are, he'll be bragging about you like he does about your sisters chopping down trees.”

“I've tried to make my dad look at my plans and ideas, but he thinks they're silly and won't work,” sighed Chip. “He only ever wants to build traditional dams, and I prefer coming up with designs for new ones.”

“Well, we like your ideas,” said the otters.

When they got up the next morning, Woody and Sooty noticed that their families were much grumpier than the day before. Even Mama Brown and Mama Black had lost the will to invent new dishes and simply sculpted the riverweed into fish-shaped blobs for breakfast.

To take their minds off their own rumbling bellies, Woody and Sooty made a secret game out of watching all the members of their families to see who would crack first. They both expected Grandpa Jack or Grandpa Bruno to be the first, seeing as they were pretty crabby to begin with and had spent the whole week moaning. Or Nutmeg, who had taken to wearing a clamshell on her nose because a side effect of only eating riverweed was gassiness. All the otters had been farting non-stop, including Nutmeg herself!

Coco and Berry were pretty fed up too when they ran out of fish oil and their fur began to frizz. They looked like a pair of over-pampered poodles. But, as it turned out, the one who eventually snapped was the least vocal otter of them all.

“I CAN'T TAKE IT ANY MORE!” shrieked Beanie, startling everyone with her sudden outburst. As the otter who loved food the most, she was the one who had been the most miserable, but she spoke for all of the otters when she sobbed, “I MISS MY FISHY FOOO-OOO-OOD!” at the top of her voice.

“That's it!” said Papa Brown, standing up heroically and casting aside the soggy remains of his fish-shaped riverweed blob. “I'm going out fishing for crayfish. I may be some time!”

This would normally have been the point where the otters lifted their spirits and cheered, “Hooray!” but they simply frowned at each other and then looked at Papa Brown strangely.

“There are no crayfish, dear,” said Mama Brown, standing up and patting her husband's head, wondering if the riverweed had finally addled his brain. “The fishes have all gone away, remember?”

“There are none in
this
part of the river,” sighed Papa Brown, “but there's a stream a short way west of here where I can lay my paws on all the crayfish we can eat.”