Set in rural Devon and written in 1928, this is the life story of Tarka, the river otter, written as an unsentimental biography, from birth to death. Williamson had an unusual talent of presenting the life of a wild creature just as is. Well, there are some names, but that is only so that one can distinguish one creature from another. Otherwise, they are very much not anthropomorphized.
The language, though, is a delight. It’s not written in a dialect, per se, but rather with localized vocabulary and phrasing, and for me, it was perfectly suited.
He {young Tarka, as a cub} was crawling around, when a strange-smelling animal leaned over him, wetting him with drops from its jowl. He tissed at it and tissed again when he heard the yinny-yikker of his mother and the snap of her teeth as the animal was driven away. Then something bit the back of his neck and lifted him up. With the cub dangling from her mouth, the bitch threatened the dog {male otter} who had followed her in curiosity to the holt. The dog tried to look into the tree on the following night, but the bitch dragged him down by the rudder {tail} as though she would drown him. The dog thought this was fun, and ragrowstered with her under and on the water all the way to Leaning Willow Island, where she left him, remembering Tarka.
And now there is the trigger warning. In Devon, at this time, apparently otter hunting was a thing, much like fox hunting, with dogs especially bred for this purpose. Tarka may have met his fate in the end, but he brings down the mighty hound Deadlock first, an unheard feat. Iss-iss-ic-yang!
Unsparing and absolutely one of a kind.
