Flow to obtain tt. 143 
an otter on a little patch of yielding sand amid the stones ; he was 
not discreet enough in his work, and has left a tell-tale behind him 
that reveals the secret of his presence. We round the corner of a 
mighty rock and push up-stream, soon coming to a waterfall. 
Surely no fish can pass this obstacle! Yes, they do, though ; for 
when the flood comes down and threatens to sweep everything 
before it, the fish go up and reach their nesting ground far up the 
valley. They may have already reached it, and we may be too late. 
Passing along the rocky bed at length we reach a pool, and peering 
cautiously we see—yes! there they go—one—two—three fine trout, 
right off a gravel bed, down into the deep recess amongst the rocks. 
Put in the net ; now close it round and set it properly, then with 
a willow sapling gently move the fish. There! two are in the net ; 
now lift ; we have them—beauties—each a pound, and females too 
Well done! we'll try again. But, no; the other has “holed” and 
will not move ; so leaving him we wander on. Soon we sight 
another, and at the first alarm under the bank he goes. We set 
the net and drive him out, but in he goes again, under a shelving 
rock this time. Again we try to poke him out, but it is of no use; 
and after several fruitless efforts we go on and try three other pools, 
but do not get any fish from them. 
But look! what is that? A fish? No; a bird, emerging from 
the water, which scatters from its feathers as it flies, and swiftly 
disappears round a bend. We cautiously creep on and see him 
sitting on a stone, a little beauty, with a throat white as the driven 
snow. His tail perked jauntily, he faces us—he turns—he dips 
his body. Is he curtseying? No, not exactly; it’s only his way. 
But there, he’s in again, taking the plunge right merrily. How 
long he stays beneath! Yes, he’s at home beneath the water and 
keeps us waiting in suspense. At last he re-appears with something 
in his mouth. What is it? shout! he’s off and dropped it, and we 
run to pick itup. It is, we find, not a trout egg, but a water 
insect—a deadly enemy to the ova of Sa/monid@ ; and that is the 
work of Cimclus in October and November. He is one of Nature’s 
workers, and he does his duty, saving many lives by taking others; 
and if he takes a fish in spring to feed his callow brood, perhaps 
he makes amends by keeping down their enemies at other times. 
But to our work. We try another pool and get a fish, and 
