New Year's Day

We went down to the sea this morning. I say that as if it were a rare occurrence, when actually we go down to the sea most days - drawn inexorably to the water, to the inimitable smell of salt and seaweed like lemmings.
It was the softest of mornings, drippingly soft, shroud-grey enveloping mizzle.
Surprisingly beautiful.

The dogs didn't even notice the wet. They rarely do.
But Tizzy, the supermodel, saw something else.
The tide was coming into the little bay, but she stood, 'lurching' at the splay of disappearing rocks, and then skittered off across them at full tilt.
I thought she'd taken exception to a distant seabird, barely visible in the shifting spray, but a moment later a dark shape moved and slithered wetly into the sea, just ahead of her eager muzzle.
It was an otter.

We stood for ages in the rain, watching it play in the water, its head popping up like a little periscope, its body as fluid as the sea, slipping on and off the submerging rocks.

Another one ducked in and out on the further side of the bay.
Perhaps they are last summer's pups. We haven't seen them down there until today.
It was fabulous.

Happy New Year otters.