Otter Chaos! by Michael Broad

fter a long, lazy day of chasing fish and skimming stones, Woody waved goodbye to Sooty, and the two otter pups headed for their homes on opposite banks of the river. The pair had only met a few weeks earlier, but were already the best of friends.
    â€œSee you tomorrow, Sooty!” yelled Woody Brown as his furry black friend reached the other side of the river and clambered on to the grassy bank.

    â€œSee you tomorrow, Woody!” Sooty Black yelled back, waving both arms at his furry brown friend. Then Sooty dashed along the water’s edge and vanished into the roots of an overhanging tree that concealed his family den.
    A tangle of twigs and branches marked the entrance to Woody Brown’s riverside home. Woody dived below the waterline with a tail splash, whooshed through the tunnel entrance and clambered up into a cavern lined with mud, twigs and moss.

    The world above had been serene, with humming insects and busy buzzing bees, but down in the den there was a rollicking riot of otter activity!
    â€œWhat’s going on?” gasped Woody, trying not to get flattened as his entire family scampered out of three narrow tunnels and squeezed into the central chamber. But the only replies he got were an “OUCH!” and an “EEEK!” and an “OI! GET OFF MY HEAD!”

    It seemed Papa Brown had summoned everyone for an emergency meeting. This meant three generations of the Brown family had to cram themselves into a very small space and no one had the faintest idea why. Papa did a quick headcount of nine, including his own, and then wriggled through the furry throng and flapped his paws for everyone to be quiet.
    â€œBig families are brilliant!” he said cheerfully, which was met with a wave of groans and grumbles from the tangle of hot, squashed otters. “But I think we can all agree that, living in this tiny den together, things can get a little… er… heated…’
    â€œDo get to the point, dear,” said Mama Brown, fanning Grandma Maple and Grandpa Bruno with her tail. “Or soon there will be two fewer otters to hear your fabulous news.”
    â€œYes, of course,” said Papa, swiftly trimming a long-winded speech about big families in his head. “When I left the den this morning I thought today would be an ordinary day of fishing and floating and cracking clams on my furry belly. Little did I know that fate had other ideas…”
    â€œAn even shorter version than that, my love,” sighed Mama.
    â€œYes, dear,” said Papa, cutting his dramatic build-up down to the bare essentials. “I was swimming upstream, heading for my usual fishing spot, when I suddenly saw—”
    â€œOi! Get your tail off my tail!” snapped Nutmeg, prodding her twin brother in the chest.
    â€œIt’s not my tail, it must be your tail!” snapped Chestnut, prodding his sister back.
    â€œActually, I think that’s my tail,” whispered Beanie, wiggling the end of it just to make sure. Beanie was younger than the twins and a little older than Woody. She preferred snacking to swimming and daydreaming to diving, which meant she still had most of her puppy fat.
    â€œThat’s one enormous tail!” chuckled the twins.
    â€œOh, never mind roly-poly Beanie and her chubby club,” scoffed Coco, frantically licking her paws and smoothing them over her head. “My fur is frizzing up in this humid hole!”
    â€œDon’t be so mean to Beanie,” said Woody, standing up for his shy sister, even though Coco was the biggest and he was the smallest. “At least she isn’t a frizzy-furred old stinky bottom!”
    â€œHA! HA!” laughed Chestnut and Nutmeg.
    â€œOoo, you little…!” shrieked Coco, lunging for her little brother, which proved difficult to do in such a tight space, so she ended up on top of everyone.
    The young otters all began squabbling, which they often did, having spent their whole lives