THE OTTER PLAYS ON 63 



After half an hour of coasting all collected 

 at the top of the slide for wrestling contests. 

 A number dodged about, touching, tagging, 

 rearing to clinch and then to roll over. Several 

 exhibitions were occurring at one time. A few 

 times one chased another several yards from the 

 crowd. Once a number stood up in pairs with 

 forepaws on each other's shoulders and appeared 

 to be waltzing. Finally there was a free-for-all 

 mix-up, a grand rush. One appeared to have 

 an object, perhaps a cone, which all the others 

 were after. Then, as if by common consent, all 

 plunged down the slide together. At the bot- 

 tom they rolled about for a few seconds in merry 

 satisfaction, but only for a few seconds, for 

 soon several climbed up again and came coasting 

 down in pairs. Thus for an hour the play in the 

 frosty moonlight went on, and without cry or 

 uttered sound. They were coasting singly when 

 I slipped away to my campfire. 



The otter is one of the greatest of travellers. 

 He swims the streams for miles or makes long 

 journeys into the hills. On land he usually se- 

 lects the smoothest, easiest way, but once I 

 saw him descend a rocky precipice with speed 

 and skill excelled only by the bighorn sheep. 

 He has a permanent home range and generally 

 this is large. From his den beneath the roots of 

 a tree, near a stream bank or lake shore, he may 



