In the pool of the moment

 Having been somewhat immersed in matters relating to Gavin Maxwell (over many years), and more importantly the role played by Kathleen Raine (much more recently), and of whose writings I'm starting to become more familiar, imagine the delight at coming across this little gem:

 

The Otter

 

When you plunged

The light of Tuscany wavered

And swung through the pool

From top to bottom.

 

I loved your wet head and smashing crawl,

Your fine swimmer's back and shoulders

Surfacing  and surfacing again

This year and every year since.

 

I sat dry-throated on the warm stones.

You were beyond me.

The mellowed clarities, the grape-deep air

Thinned and disappointed.

 

Thank God for the slow loadening,

When I hold you now

We are close and deep

As the atmosphere on water. 

 

My two hands are plumbed water.

You are my palpable, lithe

Otter of memory

In the pool of the moment,

 

Turning to swim on your back,

Each silent, thigh-shaking kick

Retilting the light,

Heaving the cool at your neck.

 

And suddenly you're out,

Back again, intent as ever,

Heavy and frisky in your freshened pelt,

Printing the stones. 

 

Those fine words were written by Seamus Heaney, whose work I come to late.  Another learning curve to guide in the years ahead.  As I read them aloud, again, I muse over those few otters of memory, enchanting in the pools of their moment.  Rare glimpses.

The first, Jura, running along the sea wall, before plunging  into the shallows;

At Kyleakin, where better, scavenging with youngsters, on the pontoons by the harbour;

Scampering across the road, outside Strathaven, on the day of my father's funeral; 

And just last year, at Spey Bay, cavorting where salt and fresh waters mingle, escaping up river.

Then I recall all the dawn and dusk hours spent in hides, typically above the Kylerhea narrows, so close to Sandaig.  Fruitless hours, midge-ridden, eyes nipping from peering through field glasses and long lenses, desperate for a glimpse.  And the lesson from that is watching and waiting is a mug's game; chance encounters, the unexpected ones, bring the delight.  And of course none of them were captured on camera.