2 THE LIFE STORY OF AN OTTER 



after night she ransacked the waste in quest of 

 these rare spoils, lest the rude structure should be 

 wanting in cosiness for the cubs which, even before 

 it was quite finished, were deposited in it. 



There were only two to share her affection — 

 the intense affection of the hunted creature for 

 its offspring. The dread of being reft of them 

 haunted her from their birth, but happily the 

 mites themselves knew no fear, knew nothing 

 but the warm, furry mother who fondled and 

 suckled them. Whelps and dam were as one, 

 for she seldom left them save to get food ; and 

 this she sought and devoured with feverish 

 energy, that she might the sooner return to them. 

 She foraged sometimes, it is true, in the morass 

 itself; but usually she had to go to the river at 

 the foot of the long, undulating slope, and though 

 the inconvenience of having the fishing-ground so 

 far away was often borne in upon her, she put up 

 with it, and never for a moment thought of 

 moving the cubs from the safe keeping of the bog. 



Under the grey skies, the rain and the sleet of 

 January, few more cheerless scenes could be 

 found than the moorland and the morass within 

 it ; yet there in the hollowed bank the otter and 

 the wee, blind, downy-coated creatures she had 

 entrusted to the chill mercies of midwinter, lay 

 nestled in the snuggest of hovers. And the 



