Why I Otter Kill You!

I write in a makeshift office, in the corner of the master bedroom.  

When I sit at my desk, face forward, my monitor is just to the left of my keyboard. 

Straight ahead is a window, through which I can observe a lagoon teeming with wildlife, constantly distracting me from my well-intended efforts to write The Great American Novel.

Last November, I commenced work on my NaNoWriMo effort . . . The Journey.  

For those of you not familiar with NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month), NaNoWriters embark on a thirty-day Odyssey to produce a 50,000 word novel.  By Day Twelve, writers should be approaching (or past) the 20,000 word mark.   

By Day Twelve of my effort, I had managed to reach word 17,237. 

Close enough, but no cigar.

On Day Twelve, as I sat at the keyboard, allegedly working toward the 50,000 word destination, I became hopelessly distracted by the view outside my window.  

As indicated in my last post, Florida Is For The Birds, many fine feathered Floridian friends attract (and hold) my attention on a daily basis.

On Day Twelve, pelicans, ibis, cormorants, anhingas, herons, egrets, and ducks paraded around outside my window ~ but none were to blame for distracting me. 

Instead, two otters captured and held my attention with their captivating playful antics for most of the morning. 

I first spotted the otter pair as they strolled amiably out of the mangroves, side by side, and slid down the grassy bank into the water at the far side of the lagoon, a short 30 yards from my desk. 

Running to get the binoculars, I watched them playing in the water for a few minutes, heads bobbing up, then disappearing after each dive, with long, lean tails whipping through the air behind them in one fluid movement. 

Then, almost as if they knew they had an audience on the other side of the looking-glass, they finished their morning swim, and decided to put on a delightful stage show, just for my amusement. 

Up out of the water they charged, racing each other to the tree line.  The victor quickly butting heads with the loser, then turning tail to bounce away.  The loser giving chase and playfully tackling his opponent. 

Down they went, rolling and tussling and tumbling together in an amusing display of agility punctuated by the flash of sharp pointed teeth. 

With lightning speed, the tagged leader would race away, playing Catch Me If You Can, before rolling quickly onto its back to expose its belly for the follower to pounce on, nibble at, then bounce off, before racing away as the new, undisputed, otter-weight champion of the world!  

Of course, even otters run out of steam eventually. 

When they did, one lay down on the bank, directly in front of my window, and the other, using the first otter’s sleek furry back as a pillow, lay down at a perpendicular angle.  

Satisfied that the show was over, I got back to the business at hand (writing, writing, madly writing) in a well-intentioned effort to reach the short-term goal of 20,000 words by the end of Day Twelve.  

Then, obviously sensing that they had lost their audience, both otter heads popped up simultaneously, and stared directly into my window, compelling me to pick up the binoculars anew.  

Recharged and rejuvenated by their brief nap, the otter antics began again as they kicked it back into high gear, taking turns playing Follow-the-Leader and Ring-Around-The-Rosie, with the temporary leader being tackled into submission by the follower, who taunted and teased the leader, rapidly chittering, Why I otter kill you! ~ all the while chasing and bouncing and pouncing and tussling until it was time to switch roles once again.

So, that’s why, self-imposed deadlines or not, I rarely write as much as I otter.