CHAP. xn. | HABITS OF THE OTTER. 97 



perceiving, or, as my old keeper called it, " feeling " the smell 

 of the otter. He could not make out exactly where it was, till 

 at last coining to a dead stop opposite a quantity of floating 

 branches and roots that had collected at a turn of the water, he 

 pointed for a moment, and then springing in, pulled out a large 

 otter with the trap still on him. It was rather difficult to know 

 whether the otter was bringing the dog, or the dog the otter, so 

 vehemently did they fight and pull at each other ; but we ran up, 

 and soon put an end to the battle. The next morning I found 

 another otter in the traps. Nothing could keep the dog from 

 him ; the moment he came within three hundred yards of the 

 place he smelt him, and rushed off to attack him. A few nights 

 afterwards, the moon being bright and the air quite still, my 

 keeper determined to lay wait for the remaining otter. His 

 track showed that he was a very large one, and he seemed too 

 cunning for the traps. The man's plan was to make himself a 

 small hiding-place, opposite a shoal in the burn, where the otter 

 must needs wade instead of swimming. We had come to the 

 conviction from the tracks that the otters remained concealed 

 during the day time a considerable way up the water, and hunted 

 down the burn during the night to where it joined the river. 



It was a fine calm December night, with a full moon. The 

 old man, wrapped in a plaid, and with a peculiar head-dress 

 made of an old piece of drugget, which he always wore on occa- 

 sions of this kind, took up his position at six o'clock. Before 

 nine the otter was killed, having appeared, as he had calculated, 

 on its way down to the river. 



This is one of the surest ways of killing this animal when he 

 frequents a river or brook which in parts is so shallow as to 

 oblige the otter to show himself in his nightly travels. They 

 appear to go a considerable distance, generally hunting down 

 the stream, and returning up to their place of concealment before 

 dawn. At certain places they seem to come to land every night, 

 or, at any rate, every time that they pass that way. In solitary 

 and undisturbed situations I have sometimes fallen in with the 

 otter during the day. In a loch far on the hills, I have seen 

 one raise itself half out of the water, take a steady look at me, 

 and then sink gradually and quietly below the surface, appearing 



H 



