My Story: Otters
The morning air on the Isle of Mull was crisp, carrying the faint scent of saltwater and seaweed. I adjusted my camera strap and made my way down the rocky shore, scanning the water's edge. The sun, still low on the horizon, cast a warm glow across the surface of the bay, but the wind carried the chill of autumn.
I had been here before—countless times, in fact. The Isle of Mull, with its rugged coastline and untamed beauty, always drew me back. This time, though, I had one goal: to photograph the otters. These elusive creatures, playful and yet cautious, had always fascinated me. They moved between land and sea so seamlessly, living a life of quiet freedom that i had longed to capture through my lens.
Otter eating a large Dogfish
Taken: Nikon Z9 - 400mm f/2.8:TC
The rocks were slick beneath my boots, and the sound of waves lapping against the shore was rhythmic, soothing even. But I was alert, scanning every ripple, every dark shadow that might give away the presence of an otter. I had found a good vantage point behind a cluster of rocks and crouched, steadying my camera on my knee. The wait began.
The minutes passed slowly, each one testing m patience, but I just knew it would be worth it. The otters could show up at any moment, or not at all—it was part of their charm. As the tide crept in, I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye. A sleek, dark shape broke the surface near the kelp beds.
My heart raced. There they were—two otters, a mother and her cub, gliding effortlessly through the water. I waited and watched as they dived and resurfaced, tiny splashes and bubbles marking their playful dives. The cub tumbled over the mother, nipping at her, and she responded with a playful bat of her paw. They seemed so at ease, unaware of the world watching from the rocks.
Two Otters on the kelp
Taken: Nikon Z9 - 400mm f/2.8:TC
As I lifted my camera, adjusting the focus, tracking their movements. The sound of the shutter filled the quiet space around me. With each click, I captured their fluid grace, their joy in this simple moment of play. But I was careful not to disturb them, keeping my distance, knowing that any sudden movement could send them diving out of sight.
After a while, the mother led her cub onto a rock not far from where I was crouched. She began grooming, rubbing her face with her paws and rolling onto her back. The cub imitated her, though more clumsily, still learning the way of things. i just couldn’t help but smile, feeling a deep sense of privilege at witnessing this scene.
Otter came ashore with a Dogfish
Taken: Nikon Z9 - 400mm f/2.8:TC
The morning light caught the water on their fur, making them glisten like silver. I snapped a few more shots, but mostly, I just sat and watched. There was something about these creatures, something untamed and wild, that spoke to me. It wasn’t just about getting the perfect photograph—it was about being part of the landscape, sharing a moment with the wildlife that called it home.
Eventually, the otters slipped back into the water, disappearing beneath the surface with barely a ripple. I stayed there a while longer, listening to the soft lapping of the waves, camera resting in my lap. The photographs would be beautiful, no doubt—but the memory of that quiet morning on Mull, with the otters playing in the golden light, would stay with me forever and ever.