104 THE OTTER. 



mate, and the two began grooming themselves, 

 quick and changing in their attitudes as the light 

 effects upon the water. They might have been 

 striking poses for a camera the whole of the time, 

 yet neither of them remained still in any one posi- 

 tion long enough for one to make a ^th second 

 exposure of them. Presently, as though prompted 

 by a simultaneous impulse, they slid back into the 

 water, making scarcely a ripple, and evidently they 

 had caught my scent, for they did not reappear. 



Before then and since I have watched otters 

 many times on the Esk, the Eden, the Wharfe, 

 and on one or two Scottish burns and rivers, and 

 have always been struck by their beauty and their 

 extraordinary vivacity, returning home after such a 

 glimpse with the feeling of having seen something 

 worth while. To watch otters fishing the pools 

 of some wide, shallow river about sunset is a 

 sight worth seeing, as by the ripples above one 

 can then follow their movements as they glide 

 hither and thither below the surface. The speed 

 at which an otter can travel under water is most 

 astounding, twisting and turning this way and 

 that, and resembling nothing more closely than a 

 huge conger-eel, as it threads its way in and out 

 among the boulders, or flashes torpedo-like across 

 the shelves. One curious thing about the otter is 

 that, however rapidly it moves in the water, it is 

 always deadly silent, never lashing the surface into 

 foam or creating so much as a bubble by its move- 

 ments. The creature leaves the water or slides 

 instantaneously into it, making only the faintest 

 ripple, and it is difficult to believe that an animal 

 so much at home there is not really a water 

 animal, but has taken to that element simply for 

 convenience. 



