306 TALKS WITH YOUNG OBSERVERS 



before. Here a fox had crossed, there a rabbit 

 or a squirrel or muskrat. 



Presently we saw a different track and a 

 strange one. The creature that made it had 

 come out of a hole in the ground about a yard 

 from the edge of the long, narrow pool upon 

 which we were skating, and had gone up the 

 stream, leaving a track upon the snow as large 

 as that of an ordinary sized dog, but of an en- 

 tirely different character. 



We had struck the track of an otter, a rare 

 animal in the Hudson River Valley; in fact, 

 rare in any part of the State. We followed it 

 with deep interest; it threw over the familiar 

 stream the air of some remote pool or current in 

 the depths of the Adirondacks or the Maine 

 woods. Every few rods the otter had appar- 

 ently dropped upon his belly and drawn himself 

 along a few feet by his fore paws, leaving a 

 track as if a log or bag of meal had been drawn 

 along there. He did this about every three 

 rods. 



At the head of the pool where the creek was 

 open and the water came brawling down over 

 rocks and stones, the track ended on the edge 

 of the ice; the otter had taken to the water. 

 A cold bath, one would say, in mid-December, 

 but probably no colder to him than the air, as 

 his coat is perfectly water- proof. 



On another pool further up the track reap- 

 peared and was rubbed out here and there by 

 the same heavy dragging in the snow, like a 

 chain with a long solid bar at regular distances 



