It was a late, lazy afternoon in the Pantanal. I basked in the welcoming sunlight, watching my siblings splash in the water.
"Patch!" Spots, my younger sister, squealed from the river. "Look what I caught!" She held up a gleaming characin (a ray-finned fish, such as a piranha) in her mouth, her whiskers twitching with pride. I snorted.
"You call that a trophy? Well, look what I got!" I dove into the water, my jaws snapping at scales as my mouth bit into flesh. Content, I showed off my four foot long catfish.
"No fair!" Spots pouted, open mouthed at my catch. I paid her no attention, digging into the fish and chomping down on the juicy flesh.
"Mmm, so good…." I said, teasing her. "Too bad you can't have some."
"You're hilarious."
Satisfied, I looked around. My brother had just left with his new family, and I was glad not to have him bossing me around. Now I'm the eldest…
"Where's Mama and Papa, Patch?" Pearl asked, sweetly. Pearl, the second oldest, was clearly the beauty of our family. With her signature pearly white flower pattern on her throat and her thick, sleek fur, hunters would pay a price to get her coat. Unlike my coarse fur patches. Twice, Pearl escaped. I snapped out of my trance, thinking.
"Oh, they're marking territory--main den," I said, trying not to laugh. The thought of them slapping their tails against the mud, furiously mixing up the feces and soil with their paws made me and my siblings crack up. This amusing situation is appropriately called the 'Poop Dance'. The neighbors had complained, and a few fights broke out because of the putrid smell, but my parents stood their ground.
"You do it too!" Mom had protested.
Weera, my aunt, shook her head. "It's not as bad. Cori already threw up her favorite catfish dinner twice when swimming by it."
"That's the point!" Mom snorted, humming with annoyance. "You WANT enemies to stay away."
Weera scoffed, but didn't fight back. My parents had always won those arguments.
Suddenly, a shrill whistle hit the silence. Judging from the high-pitched squeak, it was Celia, the newborn baby. And she was in trouble.
"HELP!" Celia cried, her voice echoing throughout the Pantanal.
"Danger cry, already?" I asked, my voice quivering. "IS IT CAIMANS?" I shouted back.
The other otters murmured, wailing in erratic spurts of anger.
"NO...." I began to tremble even harder.
"JAGUAR!" Then everyone began to erupt with screams. "MAIN DEN!"
"WHICH ONE?"
"MAMBA!"
"No...please no…" I feared it would happen. Mamba, the arrogant and proud jaguar in Pantanal, would attack again. So much for a peaceful nap. The otters swam towards the main den, hurrying in family packs. I dove into the crowd, fearing the worst.
We swam for a few minutes, Spots and Pearl positioned at either side of my paws, trembling. Or maybe the shivers were coming from me. It didn't matter at that moment-- all that mattered was the jaguar. It's been two years since Mamba has visited; her two daughters had been dominating the area since then. I gulped. Once we arrived at the main den, I craned my neck to see the infamous jaguar. I wish I hadn't looked.
Mamba is tawny with fearsome black spots, pearly whiskers, dagger claws, and hazel eyes. She would be almost pretty if she wasn't so dangerous. She's perched right above the den, in a pouncing position.
"Back again?" Uncle Harris asked. He's on the other side of the crowd, bobbing above the water.
Mamba sneered, sarcastically rolling her eyes. Celia whimpered, clutching to her parents.
"You sure do love to terrorize us," My father said, his head nodding angrily.
Mamba murmured something in jaguar-speak that I can't understand. I don't want to understand. "Aren't you pleased?" she finally asked, licking her paws. She's toying with us, I thought.
Then she lunged. I screamed. Everyone screamed.
It was war. Mamba lashed out, her claws rapidly striking the air. Other otters were bobbing above the water, trying to bite her tail from behind. The Pantanal glowed red with blood as the injured squealed with pain.
Mamba roared again, and I just watched the scene, trembling. "Do something!" Dad called from the water. "Attack!"
The river was filled with shrieks, wails of agony. The commotion made me dizzy, and I swayed with effort to keep up. A swirl of spots and dagger claws whizzed by me. I saw Mom and Dad moaning, clutching their injured paws. I took a deep breath. Now or never. I attacked Mamba from behind, biting her tail and clenching down as hard as I could. She yowled in pain. I pounced again in the water, this time sinking my teeth into her forepaw.
Mamba looked at her wounds in surprise, blood dripping from the raw flesh. Her eyes wide, she howled in retreat, bounding on land and slinking away.
The river erupted with cheers. "We won! You saved the day! Go, Patch!" I beamed, bouncing up and down.
After several more cheers, I swam over to my parents, worried. "Are you okay?"
Dad winced. "It'll be fine. Let's get back to the den." My siblings gathered around me, looking up in awe.
"You're a hero!" Spots said, proudly. "I have a sister as a hero!"
I smiled. "Soon you'll be one too."
We paddled back to the den, playing games with each other. Spots caught a huge catfish, and we all agreed to have it for dinner. The sun sunk lower in the sky and I raced up and down the hills with Spots, Pearl, and Celia. We romped in the water, splashing and squealing with delight. Finally, it was time to go back into the den. Stifling a yawn, I flopped down onto the ground with a giant smile on my face. Today, I learned how to be brave.
FACTS ABOUT GIANT OTTERS
Scientific name for Giant Otters: Pteronura brasiliensis
Kingdom: Animalia
Phylum: Chordata
Class: Mammalia
Order: Carnivora
Family: Mustelidae
Genus: Pteronura
Species: P. brasiliensis
Giant Otters are highly endangered, and are only found in South America. Only around 5000 of these animals are left in the wild.
These mammals are carnivorous, eating up to 10 percent of their body weight in fish every day. That's a lot of food!
Giant Otters can eat catfish, characins among other types of fish, baby caimans, snakes, and crabs.
Giant Otters can make up to 11 different types of sounds!
They're enemies with caimans and jaguars (like Mamba!)
They're very social, and often come up to fishermen's boats. But be careful, they are dangerous too. They grow up to around 6 ft, taller than most humans!
They have a fine coat to warm them (because they have no blubber), so sadly, hunters used to kill them for their pelts.
Giant Otters make dens for their homes. They sleep in them around 5 p.m, then get up at dawn. As I noted in the story, they go to mark their territory by urinating and defecating on it. Sometimes they get into fights with other otters.
When danger is near, sometimes the otters move the children into other dens to protect them.
Once baby otters grow up, the males typically leave their homes sooner than the females.
Another reason why they are endangered is because of dams around the rivers. The dams block the fish migration so the Giant Otters don't get as much food. When trees begin to rot, it falls into the river. The acid from the rotting trees causes rocks to wear, which in turn releases mercury into the water. This is harmful to the otters. The increase of soy farms for cattle has also been detrimental.
Help save the otters by learning more about them and donating to fund support for these wonderful creatures!
