THE OTTER PLAYS ON 63 
After half an hour of coasting all collected 
at the top of the slide for wrestling contests. 
A number dodged about, touching, tagging, 
rearing to clinch and then toroll over. Several 
exhibitions were occurring at one time. A few 
times one chased another several yards from the 
crowd. Once a number stood up in pairs with 
forepaws on each other’s shoulders and appeared 
to be waltzing. Finally there was a free-for-all 
mix-up, a grand rush. One appeared to have 
an object, perhaps a cone, which all the others 
were after. Then, as if by common consent, all 
plunged down the slide together. At the bot- 
tom they rolled about for a few seconds in merry 
satisfaction, but only for a few seconds, for 
soon several climbed up again and came coasting 
down in pairs. Thus for an hour the play in the 
frosty moonlight went on, and without cry or 
uttered sound. They were coasting singly when 
I slipped away to my campfire. 
The otter is one of the greatest of travellers. 
He swims the streams for miles or makes long 
journeys into the hills. On land he usually se- 
lects the smoothest, easiest way, but once I 
saw him descend a rocky precipice with speed 
and skill excelled only by the bighorn sheep. 
He has a permanent home range and generally 
this is large. From his den beneath the roots of 
a tree, near a stream bank or lake shore, he may 
