PADDY, THE OTTER 471 



together, exactly as if he were praying, and moves them up and down with an 

 unmistakable meaning. The moment the door is opened out he bolts, and disappears 

 for a run in the shrubbery or rushes to his mistress to seize her dress and worry it 

 like a dog. He gets a pound of cod every day for his staple diet, and as much more 

 of any other sort of fish as he can get. He loves eels ; but his tit-bit is the roe of 

 a jack. 



In the house he is a delightful pet, always ready for a romp, but curiously silent 

 in all his movements ; in fact, whether indoors or out, when free his silence is a 

 noticeable characteristic. Yet he possesses three distinct cries. When hungry 

 or lonely (the latter when he thinks he has got lost in the grounds of his mistress's 

 home) he utters a plaintive whistle ; when perfectly happy and at ease he coos 

 in fact, when thus speaking he most perfectly fulfils Bottom's intentions and " roars 

 you as gently as any sucking dove " ; and, thirdly, when he is angry or in pain, 

 my word ! he yowls like a tomcat on a roof. 



His delight indoors is to indulge in a wild game round the furniture the rougher 

 it is the better. You cannot hurt him ; his skin and skull are too thick to suffer 

 from the knocks and concussions gained by falling over stools and colliding with 

 table legs, or being violently thwarted when he makes a ferocious assault upon you. 

 And all this " rough and tumble " exercise is indulged in without a sound. 



Out of doors, almost every day, he accompanies his mistress down to the river. 

 A long flight of steps leads downhill to the water, but Paddy takes care not to descend 

 by them. He prefers the smooth grassy bank by their side. And he likes to to- 

 boggan down the slope on his tummy, his hind-legs stretched out behind him. This 

 is a very interesting feat, for on certain rivers with high banks there are often 

 noticeable " slides " to be found, down which it is said the wild otters slip into 

 the water. 



Paddy loves the river, although at first in his younger days he was strangely 

 afraid of it. He slips into it, noiselessly and smoothly no splashing or disturbance. 

 As he dives he puts his ears back close against his head, and so wonderfully 

 arranged is the inner mechanism that the action of laying back the ear closes an 

 internal flap, which entirely prevents water from entering. 



It is a wonderful sight to see him in the water. There is nothing to trace him by, 

 and you wonder where he has got to until you catch sight of his smooth sleek head 

 silently but actively examining into the contents of a mass of floating weed and 

 driftage. Watch him swimming under water, a dark brown streak, moving with 

 almost incredible swiftness, and you think at once of a living submarine, so straight 

 is his body and so relentless his speed. 



You can see him investigating at the bottom of the river amidst the roots of 

 the waterweed until he needs to take a breath, when up he comes to the surface, 

 plunging in and out exactly as you may see a porpoise alongside a steamer in the 

 Channel. 



Then he hunts the banks, head alone out of the water, searching for a possible 

 frog or rat ; or he will fetch a stick or a ball thrown into the water by his mistress 

 and retrieve it. 



It is not often that he gets a fish from the river, but he knows of a pond hard by 

 where, if he can outdistance his keeper, he may get a meal. Like another otter 

 I knew, he dodges his mistress, and will play a regular game of peep-bo in the effort 

 to slip round her to the pond he seeks. 



He plays with a live fish as a cat with a mouse, and is quite capable of holding 



