Otter Chaos - The Dam Busters. Michael Broad

But every one of them stopped what they were doing when they heard the fishing basket open; all were eagerly waiting to see what was for dinner. Mama Brown and Mama Black slowly squinted inside the basket, nodded in approval and cuddled their husbands. Papa Brown and Papa Black then tipped the contents out on to the floor for everyone to see.

      “HOORAY!” cheered the otters as a massive haul of crayfish poured out.

      Woody and Sooty were so excited at the sight of their favourite meal that they forgot all about the beavers they had seen. It was only after dinner, when everyone had eaten their fill and a little bit more, that the youngsters remembered their strange encounter.

      “We saw beavers today,” said Woody, sucking on a crayfish claw.

      “Where?” asked Grandpa Bruno, narrowing his eyes.

      “They were round the bend in the river,” replied Sooty.

      “How many?” asked Grandpa Jack, sitting up straight.

      “Two,” Woody and Sooty replied together.

      They were surprised that their grandpas had shown such interest in the beaver sighting. The old otters usually fell asleep after dinner, and sometimes during. Papa Brown and Papa Black sat up too and frowned at Mama Brown and Mama Black. Then they all shook their heads and chuckled their secret fears away.

      “Two beavers don’t mean anything,” said Papa Brown.

      “This used to be a beaver lodge, after all,” added Papa Black, indicating their fine surroundings. “So we should expect one or two beavers passing through here from time to time.”

      “They mentioned a mother too,” said Woody.

      “And sisters,” added Sooty.

      “A whole family?” said Mama Brown, furrowing her brow.

      “Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about,” chirped Mama Black, seeing the frowning young otters peering up at her. And when the other adults saw the concerned looks on the youngsters’ faces, they immediately agreed and smiled.

      “There’s nothing to worry about,” said Papa Brown.

      “Nothing at all,” added Papa Black.

      “It’s getting late,” said Mama Brown.

      “Time for bed then,” said Mama Black.

      “Yes, come along, sleepy pups,” said Grandma Maple merrily, herding the young otters towards the indoor pool. “Let’s get those paws and furry faces washed and then it’s off to beddie-byes for all of us!”

      Woody and Sooty thought the beaver sighting was odd, but hadn’t really thought there was anything to worry about. Not until their parents started saying there was nothing to worry about!

      “Why do you think everyone behaved so strangely when we mentioned the beavers?” whispered Woody, as they lay in their grass and moss beds.

      “Maybe they think the beaver family are the ones who used to live here,” said Sooty. “And they’re afraid they might want to take Cottonwood Lodge back.”

      “But the beavers didn’t come this far down river,” said Woody. “And they would know where their old home was. It looked to me as though they’d never been around these parts before.”

      “I agree,” said Sooty, with obvious relief. “So there’s probably nothing to worry about after all. The grown-ups are just being weird again, as usual.”

      Woody and Sooty both laughed until a series of loud “SHHH!” noises came from the other chambers. They stifled their giggles and settled down to sleep, happy in the knowledge that all was well in their riverside world and nothing terrible was going to happen.

      

      he following morning was warm and sunny, but instead of waking to the sound of birds singing cheerfully and dragonflies fluttering dreamily, the two otter families were startled awake by the familiar voice of Beanie Brown, from outside the den.

      “SOMETHING TERRIBLE HAS HAPPENED!” she cried.

      There was a sudden surge of activity as dozens of panicking otters raced out of their chambers, through the tunnels and out on to the mooring pad, where they found Beanie gazing into the tranquil water.

      “What’s wrong, my darling?” gasped Mama Brown.

      “Yes, tell us, my dear,” added Grandma Maple.

      Woody Brown knew his shy sister could become even more unconfident when put on the spot, so he stepped alongside Beanie and held her paw. “What is it?” he whispered.

      Beanie frowned at Woody and then pointed to the water.

      The assembled otters moved closer to the edge of the mooring pad and peered into the river, expecting to see something terrifying like a crocodile or an alligator. What they saw was … absolutely nothing.

      “There’s nothing there, sis,” whispered Woody.

      “I know,” said Beanie, sniffing and wiping her shiny black nose with a paw.

      Woody Brown looked into the river again and considered why Beanie might be up before everyone else and what could possibly make her scream in terror – and then gasped when he eventually worked it out.

      “The fish have all gone!” he said.

      “Fish don’t just vanish overnight,” said Grandma Maple, dipping her tail in the water and swishing it from side to side, in the hope of drawing a few nibbles to the surface. “They must be just hiding.”

      As the main providers of food for both families, Papa Brown and Papa Black dived into the river. They darted about deep underwater, stirring up clouds of bubbles intended to scare up any fish that might be lurking at the bottom, but there was nothing except riverweed, rocks and old empty shells.

      Mama Brown clutched the paws of Mama Black as their husbands returned to the surface and shook their heads gravely. The rest of the otters appeared baffled by the mystery, with the exception of Grandpa Bruno, whose eyes widened as he understood what had happened.

      “Beavers!” growled the old otter.

      “Beavers!” agreed Grandpa Jack.

      “How could beavers steal all of our fish?” asked Woody.

      “They don’t steal them,” said Grandpa Bruno. “They stop them.”

      The old brown otter jumped into the water and swam to the middle of the river where he could see past the bend. “They’ve built a dam right across, just a short way upstream,” he yelled. “All of our fish have carried on swimming downstream and no new ones can get through.”

      “They’ve blocked the flow of the river!” gasped Grandma Maple.

      The black and brown otters all dived into the water and swam out to Grandpa Bruno and saw for themselves that the dam was huge. There was an enormous felled tree, its trunk stripped, stretching from one bank to the other. Along its length the trunk was piled high with branches and logs, all packed tightly together with mud and grass. There was also the bristly roof of a lodge on the riverbank that had to be the beavers’ home.

      “Everyone back to Cottonwood Lodge,” growled Grandpa Bruno, snorting through his nostrils. “I’m going to have a polite word with our new neighbours.”

      “I’ll come too,” added Grandpa Jack. The old black otter knew only too well how hot-headed