My favorite place to go for quiet meditation is Riverfront Regional Park. It’s just a 17 minute drive from my house but a world away. When I’m here I immerse myself in nature, do a slow crawl along the pathways, pause to look at birds, listen to the quiet and breathe in the smells of bay laurel and redwood. This is where I’ve done some of my best writing. I’ve been surprised by foxes and bald eagles and once discovered a great blue heron rookery in the top of a redwood grove. I never know what to expect so I come here with an open mind and an open heart and just let the mysteries unfold before me. Today as it turned out, was otter day.

I hike up out of the forest and perch myself on a tiny promontory about 30 feet above a bend in the Russian River. The view is peaceful. The clear olive-colored water is on a slow, lazy slide to where it will eventually meet the sea at Jenner. Bright green water hyacinth lines the opposite bank, its tendrils snaking out towards the center of the river. The surface of the river is a mirror, unbroken save for the occasional jumping fish that spreads ripples of concentric circles to the shore. A double breasted cormorant is gliding around, popping below the surface now and then in search of a meal. We’re deep into autumn so browns and yellows dominate the trees. As I’m writing this I spot my first ruby-crowned kinglet of the season. This happy little harbinger of winter is one of my favorite of the autumn return songbirds. The quiet is soothing. The occasional chatter of a kingfisher and the piercing call of a northern flicker are the only sounds I hear.

I sit down here and get out my notebook. The view upriver is unobstructed for nearly half a mile so it’s easy to spot the telltale V-shaped wakes that the river otters make. I count four of them. From my vantage point I have a front row seat and they’re coming straight towards me. Through my binoculars I can make out details in their puppy-like faces, the water is crystal clear so their long, black tails and the rest of their bodies are visible too. One individual comes up to rest right below me on a snag that juts out at a crazy angle from the water. It hangs out for a few minutes grooming before rejoining its companions. The otters glide deliberately past me in a loose formation as they head downriver. I walk along the trail and follow them for  a short way until they disappear from view. I walk back to the spot where I’d been sitting and am delighted to see that the otters have doubled back and are once again swimming upriver. When I’ve seen river otters in the past it’s usually just for a moment or two, the encounter is often over before I even realize what’s happening so to have such a long and unhurried time to observe them today is truly a gift. Seeing these gentle creatures in their natural habitat is a dreamy experience, it feels like I’ve been put into a trance. 

This section of the river is a favorite of river otters, I’ve seen them here several times in the past. I always hope they’ll return when I’m here but I never expect it. After a few more minutes the otters disappear up river and the spell is broken. I head on down the trail with the blessing of river otters in my heart.