The Otter 



of a stream one evening, I had sat down behind a 

 reedy bed to watch the movements of a pair of teal. 

 While thus engaged, I thought I heard the whistle of 

 an Otter, and listened attentively for a few moments 

 The sound was repeated several times, and I felt sure 

 I could not be mistaken in concluding the noise pro- 

 ceeded from such an animal. Then for some minutes 

 the only sound to break the quiet was the low chatter 

 of a tomtit in a neighbouring tree. The tension 

 became irksome, and I rose to move down the bank- 

 side. As I did so, I saw a big body glide under the 

 drooping branches that hung over the stream, and I 

 crouched expectantly behind the reeds. Peering over 

 the vegetation, I saw a head above water, and my first 

 impulse was to fire at the object, for it seemed to be 

 making for the cover of the opposite bank. Un- 

 decided, I waited, and although the animal held on 

 its way for some distance, it ultimately wheeled round 

 and landed upon a shingly island formed by the stream 

 dividing at this place. As it walked up the sloping 

 side of the island, I fired. There was no noise once 

 the echo of the report died down the valley, only the 

 dead body of a full-grown Otter lay stretched upon 

 the beach. I waded knee-deep across the stream, and 

 carried the body ashore, forgetful of the movement of 

 the teal-ducks. This specimen had a head and body 

 of 28 inches in length, with a tail fully half as long. 

 The Otter's head is flat and broad, and its tail strikingly 

 flat and tapering. The ears are short and rounded, 



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