Otter Chaos!. Michael Broad

know you did,” said Grandma, patting her husband’s paw.

      Further along the bank, Woody had finished packing his collection of amusingly shaped pebbles and was helping to load the last of the food stores, while keeping a constant vigil on the opposite bank. He was hoping to catch sight of Sooty before they left because there was no time to cross the river and tell him the news in person.

      “I’m sure your friend will understand when you explain that we had to move fast before another family nabbed Cottonwood Lodge,” said Mama, packing down the supplies and tying the rafts together. “And we can send word back by river rat as soon as we get there.”

      Woody knew his mama was right and decided to focus on the adventure ahead. The young pup had never moved house before – he’d never even been that far up the river – and he was sure Sooty wouldn’t want him to miss out on all the fun.

      “The current is picking up,” yelled Papa, standing on a log with his tail dangling in the water. By wiggling his bottom, he was able to test the exact tug and flow of the river. “It’s now or never, otters!”

      Papa dived into the water and pulled up the rock anchors of the rafts so they began to drift out across the river, while Mama swam up and down, organising the moving party. Grandma Maple and Grandpa Bruno were perched on the bedding on the central raft and everyone else was in the water, positioned at different points along the train of smaller rafts.

      “Goodbye, old home,” said Beanie. “We will miss you.”

      “I won’t miss sharing a room with you lot!” scoffed Coco.

      “And I won’t miss snoring sisters!” said Chestnut.

      “I definitely won’t miss farting brothers!” said Nutmeg.

      “New home, here we come!” yelled Woody.

      “HOORAY!” cheered the Browns as they began their journey, all swimming together and pushing the chain of reedy rafts up the river as they headed for a whole new world.

      That whole new world and their new home were only some hundred metres upriver. In fact, they could have seen Cottonwood Lodge from their old home if they had stood on a rock and looked in that general direction. Still, it was a huge adventure for the family and everyone was very excited.

      Things got even more exciting just a few moments later when the river quickened, the rafts broke their tethers and each of them floated away in a different direction, spinning and bobbing like rubber ducks in a whirlpool.

      “HOLD ON TO THE NEAREST RAFT!” yelled Papa, who was gripping the bedding raft with Grandma and Grandpa. He was swimming with all his might to keep it moving upstream and not get carried off by the current.

      The smaller store rafts that had spread out were now divided between the Browns. Mama had one, the twins had another and Beanie and Woody shared the third, leaving Coco one all to herself. The otters were swimming hard to push the rafts upstream. All except Coco, who perched on top of hers, busily flattening down her fringe, completely unaware that she was drifting away from her family on the ever-increasing rapids.

      “COCO!” yelled Mama. “GET OFF THAT RAFT!”

      “I don’t want to get wet,” the otter sighed wearily, and only then looked up to see that she had left the convoy and was floating quickly downstream. Coco perched on the edge of the raft and gazed fearfully into the rushing water.

      “JUMP!” cried Mama. “Don’t worry about the supplies!”

      “I’m not,” huffed Coco. “But I’ve just dried my fur!”

      “JUMP IN RIGHT NOW, YOUNG LADY!” Mama shouted sternly.

      Coco rolled her eyes and dived into the water, paws paddling frantically, so it took her no time to catch up with the otter flotilla.

      “Is everyone still with us?” asked Papa. He climbed on to the bedding raft, looking out to count heads along the three remaining smaller vessels. Mama and the five young otters were all present and accounted for, and all they had lost was one raft of food.

      “HOORAY!” cheered the Browns, who like most otters were generally optimistic and preferred to look on the bright side. Only Beanie still looked fretful and raised a paw to get Papa’s attention.

      “It’s OK, Beanie,” Papa said kindly. “We won’t run out of food.”

      “I wasn’t thinking about the food,” she frowned, even though she had been thinking about the lost supply raft moments earlier. “I was just wondering where Grandma had gone.”

      Everyone looked up at the top of the bedding raft to see Grandpa Bruno fast asleep on his back, who just then snuffled awake and said, “Are we there yet?” Then he stared, wide-eyed, at the empty space beside him.

      “Nobody panic; she can’t have gone very far,” said Papa, scratching his head and looking up and down the river. “Now, I don’t think she could have fallen off the raft…”

      “I didn’t hear a splash,” said Mama.

      “And there are no giant eagles in these parts that might have carried her away,” said Papa, looking at the sky and scratching his chin. “Not that I know of, anyway.”

      “Everyone be quiet,” said Grandpa Bruno. “I hear snoring.”

      “Are you sure it’s not Nutmeg?” said Chestnut.

      “Shut up, farty bottom!” said Nutmeg.

      “SHHHH!” hissed everyone else.

      The Brown family held their breath as Grandpa Bruno crouched down and pressed his head against the tall heap of bedding. Then he started digging in the wet grass and moss and hauled Grandma Maple back up to the surface, where she continued to snore, not realising that she’d been lost and found again.

      “Well, I think we’ve had our quota of bad luck, with runaway rafts and vanishing grannies!” chuckled Papa, standing up on the raft as the streamlined flotilla continued along the river. “So I have every reason to believe it will be plain sailing from now on.”

      “HOORAY!” cheered the Browns for the third time that day.

      Unfortunately, just as Papa was giving his speech, the raft passed under a low-hanging tree branch. The branch itself was high enough to clear easily, but the bees’ nest dangling from it collided with Papa’s head and joined the otters in their removals upstream. Unlike the otters, the bees rather liked where they were living, and were none too happy to get bashed off their branch on to a heap of wet grass that smelled like fish and elderly otters.

      “BZZZZZ!” the bees buzzed angrily, pouring out of the nest. Then they gathered into a swarm and zoomed furiously towards the otters, who all squeaked in alarm and dived deep underwater before fleeing upstream.

      With the rafts otter-free, the bees flew back to their branch and set about building a new nest, and without otters to propel them forward, the rafts quietly drifted back downstream too.

      When the Browns finally arrived at their new home, they were a lot lighter than when they left, having first lost a raft of food, lost and found Grandma Maple and then lost everything else in a cloud of angry bees. But as they hauled themselves on to the sprawling island of twigs and branches that was Cottonwood Lodge, the family knew it had all been worth it.

      “Now, don’t worry about our stuff,” panted Papa, standing at the entrance to the den and looking rather bedraggled. “We will find new bedding and build up our stores again in no time.”

      “The important thing is that we made it here in one piece,” added Mama, staggering up to join her husband and wringing out her tail. “Now let’s catch our breath before we explore our new home!”

      “HOORAY!” cheered the Browns, and they collapsed in a heap.