The Book of the Otter: A manual for sportsmen and naturalists

by Richard Clapham

A frequent reason for blank days lies in having too wide a district to hunt. This means that certain streams are visited but once a season, and a single day on each is not sufficient to insure sport. A certain river is perhaps visited to-day, and hounds hit off a drag and carry it up-stream a long way, until the hour is late, and their otter still unfound. The next fixture is probably in another county, whereas if hounds were put to water on the following morning at the place where they left off, a hunt would be practically a certainty. Again, if a brace of otters are put down, and one of them is hunted and eventually killed, a visit to the same water on the following day would result in the survivor providing some pretty work for hounds. There is hardly an Otter Hunt in the kingdom but what attempts to cover more water in a season than it can properly manage. The chances of continuous good sport are on this account exceedingly doubtful, for unless rivers are frequently visited, and a fair percentage of otters are killed, riparian owners, keepers, and others will refuse to protect otters, and instead, go in for the killing business themselves. Hunting is in this country dependent upon the goodwill of landowners and tenants, who are as a rule only too pleased to welcome hounds. If, however, the Hunt does not properly reduce the stock of foxes or otters, other methods are then resorted to. The more otters or foxes you kill in your district, the more you will have, for directly people realise that you and your hounds mean business and are "out for blood," they will leave it to you to do the killing, and confine their attentions to preserving your quarry. A small district, regularly hunted, will provide much better sport than a large one casually attended to. The fixture card of the average Otter Hunt should show "Where leave off" much oftener than it does at present. In a small district a Hunt is much less dependent on trains for moving hounds from place to place, and there is far more opportunity to "lie out" overnight at some farm or other homestead, and thus continue hunting at the same place on the following day.

Harking back to the river, a great many people imagine that when hounds hit off a line away from the water, and go full cry through a wood, across open country, or up some tiny streamlet, that they are running riot. That hounds occasionally run riot, more especially the young entry, we do not for a moment deny, but when a pack of entered hounds performs in the above manner, they are not rioting, but running the line of a travelling otter. The huntsman then, instead of blowing his horn while the whippers-in rate and attempt to stop hounds, should put his best leg foremost and try to keep in touch, so that if hounds check, after covering perhaps a mile or two, he will be there or thereabouts and have a good idea what to do.

We have vivid recollections of a day on which hounds hit off the line of an otter that had stolen away from a rock-holt without being seen or tallied. She, for it was a young bitch otter, left the main stream with a good start, and turned up a runner which lay in a deep, narrow valley. At the head of this valley the otter turned left-handed and crossed over more than a mile of open country comprising the watershed. Descending the other side, she entered a stream via a hanging covert on the near bank. When hounds hit off her line, they raced up the valley with evidently a screaming scent. At the top they hovered for an instant, then swept on left-handed over the hill. The huntsman, who was convinced that they were running riot, attempted to stop them, and succeeded in getting hold of some of them, but the others went on, and we could hear them speaking merrily in the direction of the stream in the valley below. We passed the huntsman, blowing his horn, with a couple or two of hounds round him, and on asking him what was the matter, he said hounds were rioting. Seeing we did not believe him, he reluctantly followed on, and to cut a long story short, hounds eventually killed their otter handsomely, after dusting her up and down the stream for some three-quarters of an hour. We can see the expression on that huntsman's face yet, when hounds collared their otter, and he was obliged to acknowledge he had been in the wrong, while his hounds had been right.

Now the first lesson a huntsman, professional or amateur, has to learn is to trust his hounds. If he can't do this, he had better leave hunting alone, and look for another job. Once your hounds are properly entered, and you know their individual traits and idiosyncrasies, always trust to what they say about it, and pay no attention to the utterances of a sceptical field, many of whom know little or nothing about the science of hunting. The line hounds are running may perhaps seem a very unusual one, even to you, but if Rouser, Thunder, Marksman, and a few more of your trusted favourites are voicing the fact that an otter is in front of them, then you can bet your life it is so, and your job is to keep in touch with them if possible. Always remember that an otter may be found anywhere, and may do anything once he is afoot or afloat. The only certain thing about him is his variability. You will learn something new about him every day you go out with hounds, and if you store up the information thus obtained, it will come in mighty useful on many a future occasion.

The Master who hunts his own hounds should study the habits of otters in winter as well as in summer. After a prolonged snow-fall a visit to one or other of his rivers, lakes, etc., will afford a variety of useful information regarding the whereabouts and the doings of otters. Their tracks will be plain enough in the snow, and by following these footprints a knowledge of the various routes traversed by otters will be gained, and many a long forgotten drain or other hiding-place discovered. The lessons thus learnt will come in mighty useful when the hunting season again begins. When thus scouting his country, he should not forget to drop in at the mill, or the various farmsteads near the river. The miller can be a good friend, or, if he likes, a bad enemy, and the same applies to farm-hands, and other people who work on the land. A chat with the farmer and his wife goes a long way towards smoothing the ground for hunting, and a friendly word and a pipe of baccy with the river-watchers and labourers ensures amicable relations, and paves the way towards encouraging an interest in hounds and hunting.

It is the Master who is thus on the job in winter as well as summer who gets plenty of good walks for his puppies, and is free to hunt when and where he likes during the season. On his journeys he will hear much about otters and their doings, a great deal of which information, however, he will take with the proverbial pinch of salt. Half the people you meet, even those who live near rivers, have never seen an otter, although there are, of course, certain individuals whose information is to be depended on. These are few and far between, however, and the wise Master will trust to his own powers of observation, rather than to reports of hypothetical otters, which in the end turn out to have been black cats, or some other animals seen near the water at dusk.

Harking back to our hunting, however, hounds have marked their otter in his holt in a root or some other retreat, and the next job is to evict him. Hounds are called off and taken back out of sight in a nearby field, and the terriers come on the scene. Vic or Vengeance is sent in, and very soon there are sounds underground betokening "something doing." The barking ceases for a moment, and then a dark brown object glides out through the tangled roots, there is a slight splash, and a long chain of bubbles as the otter takes to the river. A shrill tally-ho! brings hounds pell-mell to the scene of action, and the hunt is on. It all sounds very easy, and sometimes is so, but on other occasions the otter refuses to bolt, or the terriers cannot bring sufficient pressure to bear, so there is nothing for it but send to the nearest farmhouse for tools. Spades, pick, and crowbar are soon on the spot, and there may then ensue some strenuous digging, before the terriers are located, and finally the otter. Occasionally, when the terriers are sent in, a rabbit or rabbits may bolt, or even as has happened before now, a fox. Then is the time you are likely to hear subdued remarks from sceptical members of your field. Take no notice of that. Your hounds say their otter is there, believe them, no matter how many rabbits appear. Otters lie very close at times, often till you dig right up to them, and on such an occasion you will have the laugh on the "doubting Thomases," when you pull little terrier Vengeance out by the stern, and your otter takes to the river. If a terrier can get behind his otter, he will generally persuade the quarry to bolt, but if the otter backs up into a cul-de-sac, the dog is obliged to face him in front, and if the terrier is a real "sticker" he will hold his otter there until the diggers work down to the spot.

Otters will lie up in rabbit burrows, drains, tree-roots, and sometimes in fox or badger earths. Rock-holts are also favourite places on the north country rivers. Where there are several side-drains branching off a main drain, it is often difficult for the terriers to locate their otter. Some rock-holts, too, are practically impregnable, and the same applies to many a big head of earths in covert. Occasionally an otter may be persuaded to bolt when other means have failed, by getting a number of people to jump on top of the holt, the party doing so in unison. When digging or terrier operations are going on, someone should be stationed where they can keep watch for the otter bolting. If the quarry can slip out under water, he may get away undetected, unless a bright look out is kept. During the time that digging is going on, the field should be made to stand well back from the scene of operations. When they crowd round the place, as the average field so often does, they are a nuisance to the diggers, and talk so much that it is often impossible to hear the terriers underground. Again, should an otter bolt from a drain, and have some distance to go before reaching the water, the field are nearly sure to start halloing, with the result that hounds break away and arrive on the scene ere the otter has had fair law.

Once the otter is afloat, the next thing is to keep him going until hounds tire him out, and at last gain their reward. The field should now spread out at intervals, along the bank, and stand still. By doing so each individual can watch the water in front of him, and tally when he is certain he sees the otter. When the field persists in rushing up and down the banks they are a nuisance to both hounds and huntsman. Standing still, and keeping a bright look out, they can be of the greatest service, and at the same time they see more sport than when constantly shifting their positions. After he has been hunted for some time, the otter will begin to show himself, and it is then perfectly legitimate for the watcher to tally-ho if he sees the otter. Unless, however, he is sure that it is the otter, he had best keep silent. A salmon in rapid water, or a moorhen crossing a pool, has often deceived a watcher on the bank, therefore make sure before tallying. Also, never tally because someone else says he has seen the otter, see it yourself first. It may be necessary to send some of the field to form a "stickle" across the shallows, above or below the scene of action. These people must keep a sharp look out, watching the water carefully. If they do their work properly, the otter should not get past them without being seen. If the hunt gradually works up-stream, the people on the lower stickle should not be forgotten. Some signal, say a few notes on the whistle, should be given in order to let them know that they are at liberty to leave their posts.