
In nearly all parts the use of the net in Otter hunting has now been
discontinued, but in the West of England, in the beautiful ■ Lorna Doone'
cpuntry, it f istill used, and there Mr. Arthur Heinemann, who has long hunted
the Cheriton pack in this country with success, explains its necessity1 :
‘ A man who could harbour a stag in Horner Combe or Haddon when the
leaf is on the oak might not be able to spur an Otter on Taw or Torridge, and
vice versa. Here in the West Country, where there are frequent stickles and
shillies, as in Wales and up north, a net is quite unnecessary; but in East
Anglia or the Midlanqtf or Hampshire any sportsman who is an Otter hunter W |
well must know that it is; impossible to kill an Otter with hounds in sonot of the
Ifong stretches of deep water that extend perhaps for miles without a b r e a k » |
ford. When hunting such a canal as the Chelmer and Blackwater Navigation or ^
the Bridgewater Canal what would one do without nets? I am not ashamed to
admit having used nets on the former, though I was never lucky enough to find
an Otter when my nets were down. Which would “ Hunting Horn prefer, a
:,six-hour hunt in deep water a quarter of a mile from top net to bottom net, or a
six-minute murder Of an Otter up a small brook with an impassable line of men
foot to foot at both top and bottom stickles ? Again, when hunting an Otter in
a very big pool full of impossible hides and holts, the only chance "of a hunt,
, ;|uite apart from a kill, i y l keep the Otter swimming^ This may often J i : done
by dropping a small net over the holt he keeps sulking in. There are always in
an Otter-hunting field critics and grumblers, usually non-suh|||ibers, who always
know the huntman’s business better than he does, and forget that he is the best
judge of whether his hountls should have blood or not. There are in every Otterhunting
country pieces of water where an Otter can laugh to scorn all efforts of
hounds and men to 'capture him if only he makes the most the natural
advantages of hide, holt, and hover, and of his powers of diving and swimming
below water. In such water if is only when, from rashness or ignorance,, the
Otter gives himself away and lands or floats, thus giving hounds: their chance,
that he may be said to commit suicide. I say nothing about “ tailing, which
should never be done by anyone of the field except at the huntsman s or master s
e special request, and is a practice which, in the interests of sport and fair play, is
far too favourite a one with many a huntsman of Otter-hounds.’.
A curious incident happened to the best Cumberland pack in June r9° 4-
They found at Netherhall Park, and after half an hour along the river Eden the
1 Mr. Heinemann has now (1905) resigned his mastership in favour of Mr. Loraine Bell.
Otter took the Old Mill Race, over which a modern portion of the town has been
built. Here the quarry swam intd a subterranean passage which carries the race
under the shops and houses- of three streets. The pack, eager, and following a
hot scent, at once followed, and the huntsman, fearing lest his hounds should be
drowned or suffocated, was glad when they all reappeared at an opening two
hundred yards lower down. The Otter escaped, having probably found a cellar
drain.
Let us now leave the lush meadows and rocky hill-streams of sunny England
and see what the chase is like in the wind-swept peat bogs and surf-beaten
islands of the Western Hebrides, There are no cheery meetings of old friends
and neighbours on the sunlit lawn, no keen-eyed master with his pack of baying
hounds—-only a dirty old fishing cobble, a solemn-faced Donald reeking of the
peat smoke, his master, the laird, and perhaps half a dozen clever-looking ‘ wee’
Skye terriers, with beautiful Gaelic names. It is no social parade, forsooth, we
have come to see ; work and pluck, such as even the greater hounds cannot
surpass, are embodied in those small, wiry, yellow bodies. They look at you
with interest, their little heads on one side, with an ear at half cock, for they
know you mean business, and that means Otters.
In England, Scotland, and Ireland, Otter hunting is a chase in which all the
arts of Venery are displayed, but away in the stormy islands of the north-west
it is a battle stern and swift. You pass through green islands where the
cormorants and seals are sunning themselves, and out through channels where
pilot whales are rolling in the tideway, amongst the puffins and razorbills, and on
to some rock-bestrewn isle where the oyster-catchers and the great black-backs
herald your approach. Here, if your eye is practised, you will note the broken
rocks and dark caves, where the water is still, and where the green cormorants
sit, and an occasional blue-rock flies. . This is the Sea-otter’s home, and here you
will find him amongst the broken cairns and hidden crevices. The laird knows
the likeliest retreat, so amid silence you each seize a little dog and $lip noiselessly
ashore. Even the grating of the cobble on the rock is to be avoided, for Balgaire
has quick ears, and is no fool. The terriers are now let go, and make at once
for the cairn they know of old, whilst you and your host station yourselves
with rifle and shot gun in a position favourable for a shot as the Otter bolts
seawards.
A chorus of miniature yelps and screams of delight proclaim an immediate
‘ find.’ The Sea-otter is at home and the battle has commenced. Confused