It had been a year since I had seen an otter. Really seen one, I mean. I know where they live, where they hunt and where they like to eat. Retrospectively, I am surprised that an individual in possession of such knowledge has not stayed out late with the objective of watching them. It is not that I haven’t wanted to; life has a way of sweeping us along on a tide of inconsequence.
I had not gone fishing that night, I had merely taken my fly rod with me – after all, who would go to the lakeside unprepared? The inevitable happened; a trout poked its nose through the ripple to cast that cursed web and out-for-a-walk turned to sneaking along the bank. I knew the fish wasn’t big enough to eat, but I had to have it, to pull it from its home, to look at, to touch, like an unhungry cat with a view of a bird…..The Mayo News….23/05/12… the full article….