Three times, they released her into the wild.
Three times, she didn't seem wild about being there.
So three times, out went the folks from the Monterey Bay Aquarium to rescue sea otter pup 327.
Of course, it would have verged on miraculous if 327 had gone wild just naturally.
"She was so naïve about life in the ocean," said Karl Mayer, animal care coordinator for the aquarium's Sea Otter Research and Conservation program.
Pup 327 was only 3 days old when she was found stranded on a Southern California beach. Rescuers searched and searched for her mother, but without success. So they brought her back to live at the aquarium and gave her a new one - Toola, a veteran of the aquarium's sea otter surrogate mother project.
In the wild, 327's birth mother would have spent months teaching her the tricks of the sea otter trade.
In the aquarium pool, Toola did that.
Still, when a sea otter's not in the sea, her life is never quite what it should be.
That's one big reason why Mayer and his staff are so dedicated to raising orphaned pups and returning them to the wild - so they can live the kind of lives they were meant to live.
There's another big reason, too, of course: Sea otters are a threatened species. Early in the last century, hunting decimated their population. At one point, fewer than 50 were left in California. And although they've made a modest comeback, they face continuing dangers from disease, pollution, habitat destruction, even intentional mistreatment by people.
So every otter out there counts.

And everyone had hoped that 327 would be out there counting as one more.
The surrogate mother project she was part of is intended to give sea otter pups an upbringing as close to natural as possible - which includes giving them an upbringing as far from humans as possible.
Wild sea otters show a healthy distaste for hanging out with any kayakers or boaters that happen by.
Rescued sea otter pups raised with too much exposure to humans often do not.
True, 327 did rely on humans quite a bit. They gave her food and toys, not to mention a surgically implanted radio transmitter that would let them keep tabs on her after they set her free.
But whenever 327 laid eyes on any of them, they were wearing Darth-Vader-looking - i.e., non-human-looking - disguises.
Not giving her a real name was part of that same distance-keeping approach.
For 327, the benefits of "just being a number" were probably minimal. But for the people who knew her, it was a useful reminder that, sure, she was cute and smart and totally lovable, but she was NOT a pet.
327 was the 10th sea otter pup raised at the aquarium with a surrogate mother.
Of the nine released before, five are either known or at least believed to be alive.
The first time they released 327, Mayer and his staff had pretty high hopes that she'd be as happy as a clam out in the ocean.
The second time, too.
But both times she swam herself ragged, and both times she fed herself barely a whit.
So she lost dangerous amounts of weight and had to come back "home" to recoup.
By the time they released her the third time, Mayer was less optimistic. He'd already decided it would be the last try.
If she didn't get the hang of things this time, he'd find a nice cushy aquarium somewhere to give her a nice comfy home.
And 327 didn't get the hang of things.
"As of day three," Mayer said, "we were actively trying to capture her."
As of morning four, they were actively redoubling their efforts.
But what happened next%u2026well%u2026it sort of verged on miraculous.
No one can explain why, but when the rescue team caught up with 327 again, there she was, floating around by some rocks, chowing down on some crabs.
Like a pro.
Like this was just exactly what she'd been born to do.