THE YOUNG NATURALIST 



9 



but like the badger and the wild cat is doubtless undergoing the process of 

 extirpation. Living at no great distance from the Thames, however, I often 

 hear accounts of otters being seen, even in these days, more especially of 

 late years. In Northern Britain it is still found in some numbers, and as it 

 is both a mariue and fresh-water animal it has a considerable choice of situation. 



The home of the otter on our southern rivers is generally in a very retired 

 spot, and is generally a burrow in the bank or among the twisted roots of 

 the willow. Here it makes its residence, and as its movements are very 

 stealthy it is but very seldom seen. When disturbed at a distance from its 

 retreat, it glides easily into the water, and is soon making its way, eel-like, 

 under the surface to some safer spot. When driven to bay it will some- 

 times take to trees. One was shot in a willow tree by a fisherman in our 

 neighbourhood a few years ago. The otter in the water is a graceful, agile 

 creature, its short, muscular webbed feet, and long powerful tail serving it in 

 good stead in its pursuit of the finny tribe. 



Pish are the otter's chief prey, and the damage it does in preserved waters 

 is anything but trifling. Like the fox, polecat, weasel and other wild animals 

 it is not content with catching sufficient for a meal, but seems to catch and 

 kill apparently out of pure love for the sport. Thus it is a common occurrence 

 for gamekeepers, fishermen and others who patrol the banks of large rivers, to 

 find the remains of many fine fish, which have been merely tasted by the 

 otter and then cast aside. The largest fish are sought by this tyrant of the 

 flood, and many a tough battle must take place between the otter and its 

 prey, worthy of being delineated by the pencil of the artist. I have been 

 told of big eels and jacks, carp of eight or nine pounds, and monster barbel 

 of twelve or more lying partly eaten on the banks of our stream, which could 

 not have been dragged from their native element without a prodigious 

 exertion of strength on the part of the otter. It does not attempt to devour 

 its prey in the water but drags it to the bank, eats what it fancies, generally 

 the daintiest pickings about the neck and shoulders, and then discards it. 

 But slowly sailing along, with neck outstretched, and gently flapping wings, 

 is another riverside denizen, the grey heron, who, less fastidious, sets to work 

 to finish the carcase. Failing the heron, the rook will come from the field, 

 the crow from the copse, and the rat from the banks, to pick the bones of the 

 otter's prey. 



Some anglers, while ready to give the otter an exceedingly bad character 

 as a wholesale destroyer of fish, yet maintain that it never destroys the fly- 

 fisher's special prize, the speckled trout. Early in the present month 

 (November), however, a gentleman discovered on the banks of the stream, 

 near Witney, the remains of a splendid trout of seven or eight pounds, which 



