 It's good to relax after a busy day. An average day, but a busy day. These fellows wearing the warm coats spend a good part of each day just searching for food. And in this sea, at this point in time, it's becoming difficult to find enough food to go around. But things are looking up, as you will see. Amchitka Island, the fourth large island from the far end of the craggy Aleutian chain. About 1,400 miles southwest of Anchorage, Alaska. Wildlife abounds throughout the island chain. But most unique of all inhabitants in the frigid waters around these cheerless fogbound islands, the sea otter. An aquatic mammal, ungainly and almost helpless ashore. In the sea, he has grace and style. Bristling silver whiskers make him seem serious and wise. Fact is, he is shy and suspicious. He has a troubled memory of man, who for centuries had been a fearsome enemy. Time was when sea otters, numerous as flocks of birds, swam and fished the coastal waters of America from the outer tip of the Aleutians on down into Mexico. But that was long ago. Perhaps the world's most luxurious fur, fine, dense and very valuable. Almost two centuries of hunters had roamed the seas, decimating sea otter colonies. And by the turn of the 20th century, these pleasant, playful creatures were on the verge of extinction. Other fur-bearing animals along these wind-worn shores suffered much the same plight. But before great natural resources could be lost forever, conservation had begun. In 1911, the International Fur Seal Treaty was signed. The sea otter and other animals were now protected by law. In 1913, the Aleutian chain was made a national wildlife refuge. The few remaining sea otter colonies began to grow again. But the process was painfully slow. Sea otters reproduce in their own time. A single pup is the rule. Twins or triplets are extremely rare. Justation lasts a year. And for another year, the pup is helpless. It lives an easygoing life, mostly clinging to its mother's chest. She is indulgent and affectionate, but strict. Now and again she may cuff the pup, teaching him to dive for food, stay underwater, anchor himself in the sea kelp to hide from his enemies and snooze. A sea otter lives about 15 years. Each year a colony can be expected to increase by only one pup per 10 sea otters of population. Even so, sea otter populations have grown. There are large colonies in the Aleutians, in Prince William Sound, some in Monterey Bay, California. Perhaps a total of 25 or 30,000 sea otters. But where sea otters once flourished in great numbers, no colonies exist today. At Amchipka, the colony grew until there were more mouths to feed than natural food resources could handle. At last count perhaps 3,000 otters. Including Harvey here. This chap has a voracious appetite. He will eat a quarter of his own weight in a day. Shellfish is favorite, but also quantities of fish and squid. Table manners? He's irrepressible. His chest is his table. He uses his front paws with dexterity and self-assurance. Still he can't seem to avoid spilling his food. Contaminated fur will lose its water repellency. When this happens, the otter's skin is exposed and vulnerable. His body temperature drops and the icy cold of the sea threatens his life. Since his life depends on cleanliness, he spends a great deal of time scrubbing his fur after meals. Fast-moving sea water helps wash away food scraps, but he prefers to handle the job himself. He scrubs vigorously, behind the ears, under the arms, the chest where most of the food scraps fall, the top of the head. Oh, that feels good. Grooming himself is his most time-consuming daily chore. But meals are important too. An average adult male sea otter weighs about 80 pounds. To sustain this weight, he needs plenty of food. Amchitka waters once teamed with food. Today, this same area can no longer support a growing colony. Ordinarily, the sea otter is not migratory. If he were, he would find abundance where sea otter colonies lived two centuries ago, in those miles of coastal sea between the Aleutians and California. Alaska had long hoped to transplant hard-pressed Amchitka sea otters to selected new homes where they could thrive and multiply. It was difficult and ambitious undertaking. Amchitka, in 1968, was a busy island. The United States Atomic Energy Commission was engaged in a program to develop the island as a remote supplementary site for underground nuclear tests. There was equipment and ground transportation. There were facilities and quarters that might accommodate Alaska's transplant team. And there was C-130 aircraft on regular schedules, arriving fully loaded with equipment and supplies, and very often departing with no cargoes assigned for return flights. Operations sea otter transplant could get underway, and with the AEC on hand and ready to help, on a scale not otherwise possible. A cooperative conservation effort. The United States Department of the Interior, the State of Alaska, and the United States Atomic Energy Commission working as a team. Aleut fishermen, skilled and weather-hardened, had arrived on Amchitka in July 1968. Their supervisor, a marine biologist from the Alaska State Department of Fish and Game, crews head for the sweeping beds of kelp offshore where the sea otters hide. It's a rolling, restless sea. The air is damp and brittle cold. But these men are hardy descendants of Aleuts who hunted these same waters many years ago. On the sea, away from shore, they are not alone. Here and there, a dark, whiskered head. Sea kelp is protection for the otter. Here he can hide from men. He can anchor himself against rough seas or sudden squalls and dine on clams, sea urchins and fish. The nylon nets are strung out around the kelp beds. If a fellow is curious or careless, he'll find his way into a net. Morning after morning, the boats are out and the nets are spread. The crews carefully collect about 50 otters each week. They will be brought ashore, bed and cared for until they can be flown to their new homes. Easy now. Into the holding tank. That's more like it. There are four large holding tanks. For cleanliness, fresh sea water is pumped continuously into the tanks as unclean water is flushed out. Each tank holds 10 to 15 sea otters. Harvey hasn't changed a bit. The service is good. And the menu is good. Squid, shrimp, crab. During this phase of the transplant operation, our friends consumed a total of 10,000 pounds of food. 50 or 60 otters are just enough for one transplant. They are made ready for the trip. Easy does it. The C-130 cargo aircraft can accommodate 60 sea otters. There would be a total of seven transplants. Flights would vary from three to eight hours depending upon destination. To keep the passengers comfortable, cabin pressures are maintained at a simulated altitude of 1,500 feet and at the lowest possible temperature. The take-off and a flight over the Pacific destinations 2,000 miles away in southeast Alaska. Otters are transferred to amphibious aircraft for short flights to six selected locations near Annette and Sitka or to boats for the shuttle trip to Privilev. In all, 359 sea otters by summer's end transported and gently released into the friendly waters off the Alaskan coast. After the brief humiliation of captivity, they are pleased with their new freedom. They are healthy, unruffled by the flight from Antitka, hungry as usual, and still have a sense of humor. This story has a happy ending. Otters have lived in these seas before. More than a hundred years have passed and hopefully they will live and thrive here again. It will take time and there is still some danger. Seen through a gun site, an otter is an easy target from the shore close by. A part of the happy ending is up to us. Nature will see to the rest. Unmolested, these few transplanted sea otters will reproduce and in time become substantial colonies. A rich legacy for generations to come. Right now they are happy in new homes. They have been rudely moved, but they will adjust. As before, they will search out the food they need. They will keep their coats clean and warm. They will play and amuse each other, even as you and I. Right, Harvey?