THE OTTER WARD
RESCUE EFFORT TOUCHES THE HEARTS OF MANY

By LIZ PULLIAM
Daily News reporter

VALDEZ- Nancy Hillstrand rubbed the sick otter pup with terry cloth towels, trying to imitate the slow, soothing strokes of its lost mother. The nearly grown pup wriggled onto its back, folding its paws near its head, and peeped weakly as it writhed back and forth.

"I'm so sorry, baby," Hillstrand said softly as she rubbed its fur. "I'm so sorry."

Hillstrand flew to Valdez from Afognak Island partly because she wanted to learn how to care for animals in case the oil slick hit her island. But the real motive, she said, was one of the heart.

"Maybe it's only a token gesture," Hillstrand said. "But to just stand by and do nothing is a lot worse."

But in a development Monday, U.S. Fish and Wildlife officers asked volunteers to do just that. As officials sought to control the capture and care of the marine mammals, they asked fishermen and volunteers to stop rescuing the animals unless they had special otter handling permits.

The order dismayed many involved in the rescue, which had grabbed hearts throughout Alaska and the world. More than 400 volunteers have been taking shifts cleaning, feeding and transporting the animals.

Most volunteers are from Valdez, but some have flown in from Anchorage, Fairbanks, Tennessee and even as far away as Italy. They bunk with friends or on the floors of churches, because every hotel room is full; many work all night long, with just a catnap here and there to keep them going.

Their task is daunting. The March 24 oil spill from the Exxon Valdez, the largest spill in U.S. history, immediately imperiled onequarter of the 10,000 otters who live in Prince William Sound. Depending on the oil's future movements, up to 50 percent of the otters could be killed or hurt by the spill, according to statistics provided by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service.

Most will never be found. Their oilcoated bodies will sink in the 15,000squaremile Sound or wash up on one of the 3,600 miles of uninhabited shoreline.

More than half of the 103 otters that have been brought in to the Valdez Bird and Mammal Rescue Center have died, and about 75 others have been found dead. Pathologists dissected six otters last week and found emphysema gas bubbles in their lungs and under their skin. They also saw lesions on the otters' lungs and pinpoint ulcers in their stomachs. Exactly what caused the otters' deaths will take weeks to determine.

cc,11p6 xr U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service officials worry that the stress of being handled by humans may be killing some otters. Untrained volunteers could endanger even more animals out in the wild, unwittingly hurting them or picking up otters that weren't in physical danger, officials said.

"Our surveys indicate that many of the otters have found refuge in coves, away from the oil," said Bruce Batten, the service's public relations officer in Anchorage. "People who may have the best intentions could be endangering the animals by turning them in, even though they may have been in safe places."

State Department of Environmental Conservation officials and some otter center volunteers protested that there weren't enough trained handlers with the proper permits to capture all the animals that might otherwise be saved.

At the rescue center, brown plastic tarp lined the floors, and the smell of fish and warm fur filled the air. The roar of wetdry vacuums competed with the whine of blowdryers and the eerie, sea gulllike screech of the caged and dying otters. Volunteers, clad in thick yellow rain pants, scurried through the rooms.

One or two volunteers knelt with each new otter, holding it immobile on its back while a veterinarian sedated it with Demerol and inserted a thermometer into its rectum. Many of the animals suffered from hypothermia because the sticky oil had robbed their fur of its ability to insulate. Unlike seals and sea lions, otters have no blubber to keep them warm.

The constantly preening otters had ingested oil as well, evidenced by their loose, brown stools.

Once sedated and stabilized, each otter is repeatedly washed with Dawn dishwashing detergent and rinsed in warm water, a process that takes about two hours. Then the otters are rubbed with towels and blown dry with hair dryers before being put into "sky kennels" those tough plastic and wire containers used to transport large dogs onto airplanes.

Hillstrand worked mostly in the intensive care unit a linoleumfloored room about the size of a walkin closet, packed with seven of the big kennel cages. Some of the animals were recovering well snapping greedily at the fish Hillstrand offered, grabbing the meat with their round, paddlelike paws and baring their sharp teeth. Others barely moved when Hillstrand passed the pieces of squid past their whiskers, other than to tuck their head closer to their chest. One large female lay in a coma, jerking and snorting fretfully, as if from a bad dream.

Some of the otters brought in have been pregnant or nursing mothers; others, like the one Hillstrand tended, were orphaned pups.

"At one point we had a mother otter in one room and a pup in another room next door," Hillstrand said. "They were calling back and forth to one another."

Anguished volunteers wondered if they should put the pup and the lactating mother together, but it was soon too late; the female died.

Last week, a tussle developed over what to do with the otters that survived the cleaning. Six were sent to Sea World in San Diego; other zoos, including the Vancouver B.C. Aquarium, planned to take several more.

But three of the Sea World otters died en route or shortly after reaching San Diego, and last week the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service said that no more otters would leave the state.

A spokeswoman for the Valdez rescue center, which was set up by a Berkeley firm and paid for by Exxon, said center officials worried that they wouldn't have the space or the volunteers to give the otters the longterm attention they needed. After cleaning, the otters need two to three weeks of rehabilitation vet care, a steady diet and regular swims in large tanks to build up their strength and restore their natural, warmthgiving oils.

But U.S. Fish and Wildlife officers said the long flights to Outside zoos would only traumatize the alreadystressed otters even more.

"It's an interim decision," said Dave McGillivary, field supervisor for the Fish and Wildlife Service. "We're looking at other facilities around the state to see if they can help."

After learning the otters couldn't be exported, Exxon officials said they would hire several of the people who have been working with the animals so that the center can have a stable, rotating crew of 12 helpers, supplemented by other volunteers.

After a week of sleeping less than two hours a night, Hillstrand, a hatchery specialist for the state, had to fly home to transfer salmon fry from their incubators to holding pens. But the memory of her time with the otters will stay with her a lifetime.

"It's like a doggone war," she said. "You put so much effort into it, and you still lose so many. But you can't just sit and let them die."

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