THE OTTER. 335 



of snow, the mark of a hobnailed shoe was sure to turn my 

 course from these rivers to Loch Vennacher, as I knew full 

 well that the enormous foot would plod down Lennie water, 

 and up Garwhinnie to the very loch, without leaving a nook 

 undisturbed, if it only had a quarter of an hour's start of 

 me. I had therefore t<3 be at the river by break of 

 day, and was rewarded by many a famous chance at the 

 fowl, as well as frequent insight into the operations of 

 the otter. 



Many a fine fish have I seen lying on the shingle with 

 only a few bites out of its neck ; and, if undiscovered by 

 the otter's scavengers, it was seldom honoured by a second 

 visit from its captor. In snow, I generally saw where the 

 otter had landed to dry himself, but he never strayed far 

 from the river's bank ; and indeed it would have been 

 difficult walking, as he always left the mark of his belly 

 ploughing the snow, if there was only two inches on the 

 ground. 



In my early shooting days, when after wild-fowl, my 

 water-dog brought me a half-grown otter which he had 

 seized in a drain. I could not, at first, make out what 

 extraordinary mouthful he had picked up. When I saw 

 it was a young otter, I brought it home alive in my game- 

 bag, intending to tame it. But the dog had broken its 

 back, so we were obliged to have it killed. A few years 

 after, I shot a fine male one near the same place. My 

 terriers came on its track in a brook. It immediately took 

 the land a long way ahead of the dogs, and by a short cut 

 made for the loch. I got my eye upon it slowly cantering 



