42 WOODLAND, MOOR, AND STREAM 



better notion of the haunts of the otter that king 

 of fishers. 



Once, after being out fishing all day without 

 getting a bite, I came on a nice perch-hole when the 

 fish were on the feed. The water was deep but clear, 

 and my seat on the mossy bank all that could be 

 desired. Visions of a full creel rose before me ; at 

 last my patience was to be rewarded ; but alas ! it 

 was not so, the treacherous bank gave way, and 

 through the roots I shot, rod and all, into that deep 

 perch-hole. I went to the bottom and frightened 

 the perch out of their wits, and, when I came up to 

 the top again, made hurried and wet tracks for home. 



Nothing is to be seen yet in the water or on the 

 banks. A flash of bright blue shoots over the water 

 and vanishes in a hole in the bank. It is the king- 

 fisher, who has made his nest in a spot secure from harm. 



The bird has taken my attention from the tree 

 in the water for a few moments. There is the otter 

 sitting on the grey trunk in the warm sunlight. He 

 is near enough for me to study his appearance and 

 all his movements well. Like a large cat he looks, 

 which has been thrown in the water and crawled out. 

 Some people think that the fur of the otter throws 

 the water off like the feathers on a duck's back. 

 That is not the case ; his fur protects his body in a 



