50 WOODLAND, MOOR, AND STREAM 



both in summer and winter. He is the feathered 

 image of caution as he glides in and out. Sometimes 

 you may see him fairly for a full minute ; then again 

 you will only just be able to catch the jerk of his 

 short tail, and to barely distinguish the form of the 

 bird. As a rule it is the tail that you see most of, 

 for he is off like a flash at the least movement on 

 your part. 



Proceeding with great caution, we come to a more 

 open part of the copse. The water-runs from the 

 river have formed a shallow pool here, over which a 

 large alder has fallen, years ago, and gone to decay. 

 It is hollowed out to a mere shell in some parts, and 

 from the decayed portion tufts of sword-grass have 

 sprung up in bunches, and droop heavily over, the 

 tips of the blades touching the shallow water. 



Here is a bit for a painter a glimpse of blue sky, 

 the play of light and shade on the alders round the 

 pool, the dark trunk of the old tree gone to decay 

 brightened up by the green tufts, and the reflections 

 on the smooth surface of the water. And there, close 

 to the edge of the pool, under the trunk, is the im- 

 pression, the seal of the otter. He shows a refined 

 taste in all his habits of living. When he takes his 

 rambles, it is in pleasant places by the river and in it, 

 and by woodland meadow and stream. Less refined 



