THE BRITISH ISLES 367 



and ill Lorna Doone's sweet valley can now be heard the deep 

 note of the deerhound in pursuit of the wild stag. True we can 

 still pursue him in what might be described as a pickled state with 

 horns shorn off, around the purlieus of W^indsor, or in one or two 

 other places, but, pleasant though the run may actually be, the 

 " sport " cannot stand close investigation, for sport consists in the 

 strategy and skill of man in pursuing and capturing a wild animal. 

 It loses all its charm and all its poetry when the game is first, as 

 it were, tethered. 



There is one other form of huntino' that flourishes to some extent 

 throughout the summer months in almost every part of England and 

 Ireland, and has a small but enthusiastic following, and 

 that is the hunting of the otter. I must say with regard , . 

 to this form of sport my experiences are unfortunate, 

 for on the few occasions on which I have gone otter-hunting I have 

 not had the luck to find an otter. 



I remember renting a beautiful little river near Kenmare, in Ire- 

 land, which teemed with otters, and there, with an old farmer called 

 Sweeney and his two scared and tattered cur dogs, many a time 

 have I had an exciting chase after an otter, but it was never my luck 

 to get one. Once I stood with a pitchfork over one of the dogs and 

 an otter fightino-, but I could not strike for fear of killing the dog, 

 and in the end the otter beat us. 



Trapping the otter is an extremely difficult task. He is as wary 

 as the fox, and the only chance is to weight the trap and leave it 

 loose, so that the otter, plunging into the river on feeling the grip 

 of the teeth of the trap, is drowned by the weight ; otherwise, if 



