Samrudhi Kerkar
One evening, my cousins spotted something unusual while strolling by the Kusdo river—a ripple, a sudden stir in the water. To their delight, a group of playful otters emerged, gliding and tumbling through the gentle current.
They rushed home, eyes wide with excitement. I couldn’t believe it at first. Otters have become so rare—I had seen one only once before, in my childhood, when a baby otter wandered into a house and was rescued by the renowned wildlifer, Amrut Singh Kaka. I had the chance to join him in releasing it back into the river. The memory may have faded, but the feeling stayed.
Of the three species of otters found in India, Goa is home to two: the smooth-coated otter (Lutrogale perspicillata) and the Asian small-clawed otter (Aonyx cinereus), both listed as ‘vulnerable’ on the IUCN Red List. So the idea of them turning up right behind our house felt almost magical.
We ran to the Kalti river—what locals call ‘Kusdo’—and there they were: a family of smooth-coated otters playing in the water. Nine of them, maybe more, darted through the stream—splashing, chasing fish, tumbling over each other like children in a playground. Their loud, rough calls echoed around us.
Surprisingly, they didn’t flee when they noticed us. Instead, they paused, lifting their heads above water and staring back, as if just as curious. They looked like a gang of mischievous kids enjoying their summer break—and we had stumbled upon their secret playtime.
Eventually, they clambered up the riverbank and disappeared into the thick bushes. We stood there, wondering where their hideout might be.
Otters’ habitats in Goa range from Western Ghats streams to brackish coastal creeks. Locally, they’re known as Ud or Udmanjar—meaning ‘water cat’. Though unrelated to cats, their cat-like faces and love for fish may have inspired the name.
Sadly, few people today are familiar with otters. Some even mistake them for seals—an animal not found in India. Otters play a vital role in freshwater ecosystems. By feeding on slow-moving or diseased fish, they help maintain balance. Their presence is a sign of a healthy water body.
While smooth-coated otters have adapted to human-altered landscapes, the small-clawed otters prefer quieter forest streams. But both have seen population declines due to habitat loss, dynamite fishing, unplanned construction, and poaching. They’re sometimes even killed by fishermen who mistake them for competitors.
I’m grateful to have contributed, in a small way, to raising awareness—thanks to Malhar Indulkar, who encouraged me to explore the Tilari region and learn more about their elusive lives. Though I didn’t spot otters there, I found signs—scat and crushed crab shells—hinting at their presence.
And seeing them again in real life—this
time in such large numbers—felt like reconnecting with old friends.
