Many of our tribe went to the cliff each night to count the number killed during the day. They counted the dead otter and thought of the beads and other things that each pelt meant. But I never went to the cove and whenever I saw the hunters with their long spears skimming over the water, I was angry, for these animals were my friends. It was fun to see them playing or sunning themselves among the kelp. It more fun than the thought of beads to wear around my neck.
The narrator reflects on the sorrow experienced by their tribe, who gather nightly at the cliff to tally the number of otters killed that day. While the tribe members focus on the economic value of the otter pelts, the narrator feels a deep anger at the hunters. To them, the otters are not mere sources of wealth, but cherished friends that bring joy through their playful nature and presence among the kelp.
This contrast highlights the narrator’s connection to the otters, which is far more significant than the materialistic concerns of the tribe. Instead of valuing the beads that could be made from the pelts, the narrator finds more enjoyment in witnessing the otters' lively antics. This emphasizes a conflict between the community's survival instincts and the narrator’s affectionate bond with the animals, raising questions about the ethics of hunting and the value of relationships with nature.
