My Colorado: Confrontation with a poacher

My Colorado

It was a beautiful late summer day and I was alone, fishing Newcombe Creek in the North Park area near Walden. The day could not have been more perfect. The weather was warm but not hot, there were no mosquitoes, and just about every hole that ought to have a fish not only had one, but had a nice-sized one.

As had been my habit since my grandfather taught me to fish as a child, I used a willow branch as a stringer, weighted down by a rock near the shore in shallow water. I had never had the desire, nor seen the necessity, to purchase a metal stringer.

That would change today.

It was getting to be late afternoon, around four o'clock, when I waded part of the way into the stream to fish a pool on the far side. The pool was about 10 feet from the shore. I knew there was a good-sized fish in that pool, but I was having trouble getting the bait to float into the pool in just the right way so that the fish would notice it.

Finally I hooked the fish—the biggest of the day—and looked in triumph over to the shore, only to gasp in horror as I saw a river otter tossing the next-to-last fish from my stringer into the air and gobbling him down.

Immediately I shouted, "Hey!" and the startled otter made a hasty retreat. Shaking my head, I went back to fishing for another hour or so. I caught a few more fish, but this time I never let the stringer out of my sight. Yet for most of that hour I could not shake the distinct feeling that I was being watched. Sure enough, I finally caught sight of the otter hiding behind a log, waiting for another chance to raid my stringer.

At that time my sister worked with the Division of Wildlife in Steamboat Springs. When I told her about my otter, she told me it was more likely a pine marten, as otters were not thought to be present in that area. However, having seen otters in the zoo, I am convinced it was an otter.

She did go to the trouble of staking out the creek to see if she could catch a glimpse of my otter. When she wasn't able to do so, I thought to myself that perhaps if she had had a stringer of fish, the elusive otter might have found her instead.


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