52 WOODLAND, MOOR, AND STREAM 



Now for a pipe and some reflection on the ways 

 and means of living also on the so-called instinct of 

 animals. How the closet naturalist, who pores over 

 dried skins and preserved specimens, takes refuge in 

 that term instinct : ! From my earliest childhood I 

 have had some one creature or another for a com- 

 panion ; they have taught me much, and will teach 

 me yet more I trust. By carefully studying their 

 needs and inclinations, one is well rewarded with their 

 confidence and affection. 



I am roused from my day-dreams by a whining 

 cry, something like the whining of a young pup. It 

 comes from the old drain. I leave my seat on the 

 tree trunk ; and my hat quickly off, I peer over the 

 butt of the tree, my eyes fixed on the spot whence 

 the sound comes. Again the cry is repeated ; now it is 

 louder, and the cause of it is soon apparent ; for from 

 under the old rails comes a full-grown otter, not wet 

 this time. Her coat shines in the sun. The cry 

 sounds again. She bends her head down low for a 

 moment. When she raises it she has a cub not quite 

 half grown in her mouth. Holding it as a cat would 

 a kitten, she places it on the grass, where it begins at 

 once to skylark with its mother's tail. Once more 

 the action is repeated with another cub. Then the 

 mother and her young play in the sun like a cat with 



