November, 1S92.J 



AND OOLOGIST. 



163 



stinct." Yes, it is an instinct that no 

 human intelligence can analyze or the 

 most learned philosopher can ever explain. 

 James B. Piirdy. 

 Plymouth, Wayne County, Mich. 



In Good Greenwood. — II. 



You can make a pet of most anything, 

 but getting them real tame is another 

 thing. A poor little prisoner soon gets to 

 know its jailor and in time ceases to a 

 certain extent to pine for freedom if the 

 jailor is kind and supplies its wants in a 

 sensible fashion. But the kind of pets I 

 had in mind when I wrote the above lines 

 are free and unconfined. I remember a 

 Mink that used to visit one of my camps 

 every morning, and we came to such a 

 good understanding that he would catch 

 the scraps I threw to him. And when he 

 had eaten enough we would have a regu- 

 lar game of pitch and toss with a bit of 

 stick. Last summer I had a pet Lizard 

 that came to me for flies, and even tried 

 to call me out by scratching on the win- 

 dow. One of the mosr fascinating wood- 

 land acquaintances that it was ever my 

 good fortune to cultivate were a pair of 

 young Otters. Their home was in a hol- 

 low tree that stood in a dense, swampy 

 thicket, and when I first peered in at them 

 they were both curled up fast asleep and 

 looked for all the world like two large 

 grey puft' balls such as are often seen in 

 old fields or by the roadside. Indeed the 

 resemblance was so complete that I very 

 nearly passed them carelessly by, only I 

 wanted to see what kind of puff balls 

 grew inside of hollow trees, and the warm, 

 furry little animal that my hand touched 

 was a geniune surprise. They exhibited 

 no aversion to being handled, but wriggled 

 about in my lap and were in a sleepy self- 

 satisfied sort of way for nearly an hour. I 

 had half a mind to take them home but 

 thought better of it, as the locality was 



quite close to the house and certainly until 

 their eyes were open they would be cared 

 for best by their natural parent. So I 

 visited them nearly every day, and in about 

 a week their eyes were beginning to open 

 and they showed signs of recognition at 

 my approach. I soon found that all my 

 rambles either began or ended at Otter 

 Corner, as I named that part of the swamp, 

 and my little friends learned to come and 

 meet me when I whistled. All this time 

 I had never met the old mother, and I 

 have come to the conclusion that Otters 

 are in the habit of leaving their young to 

 themselves during the middle of the day. 

 I have often found young ones but never 

 but once saw the mother with them, and 

 on this occasion it was very early in the 

 morning. 



My new acquaintances had begun to 

 have lively frolics with each other and 

 once in a while something very like a 

 fight. I found they appreciated highly 

 the presents I made them of small fish. 

 So one day, to try their tempers, I put a 

 good sized mullet on the ground between 

 them and awaited results. Both scrambled 

 up to the prize and fell to with the very 

 best of table manners. Not a growl or a 

 grumble from either, only little contented 

 murmurs and sounds of satisfaction. Nay 

 more, they evidently assisted each other 

 at the repast, for one would hold on " with 

 tooth and toe nail" while the other tugged 

 and worried to bite off a tough morsel. I 

 never tried to make them quarrel after 

 that. 



As summer advanced and they grew in 

 size and strength, my little Otters often fol- 

 lowed me part way to the house, but always 

 stopped inside the woods. The bright 

 sunlight of the open field that surrounded 

 my house seemed to be a drawback to 

 their further progress in that direction. 

 Late one cloudy afternoon, though, they 

 followed me clear across and examined 

 the whole house in the same cautious and 



