’tis vain to sit and wish and wish

when fishing where there are no fish.

                 little joe otter.

farmer brown’s boy hadn’t had one bite, not one teeny, weeny nibble, and he really didn’t know what to make of it. many times had he fished in the laughing brook but never before with quite such bad luck as this.

“fishy, fishy, here’s a worm!

watch how he will twist and squirm!

bite him first before you look

to see if he is on a hook.”

farmer brown’s boy said this over twice as he tossed his bait into the second little pool. then he waited. he waited and waited and waited! all good fishermen wait and wait and wait. to catch fish patience is as necessary as bait. so farmer brown’s boy waited. nothing happened; nothing at all.

“i wonder if some one has been here before me and caught all the trout,” thought he. “i didn’t get a nibble at the first pool and i haven’t had a nibble at this pool. guess i’ll have to move on.”

so he moved on towards the third pool a little farther down the laughing brook. he had almost reached it when he heard a splash and then another splash. he put down his rod and crept forward very, very carefully, so as to make no sound. when he could see the little pool clearly he caught his breath. other fishermen were ahead of him. in fact, a family fishing party was right in that very pool and having better luck, much better luck, than he had had. the members of that party were catching fish, the very trout he had been so sure of catching when he started out. these were the ones who had spoiled his fishing. have you guessed who they were? they were little joe otter, mrs. joe and the little otters.

farmer brown’s boy kept perfectly still and held his breath. he forgot all about his own fishing. he had seen little joe only once or twice before, and then had caught only a glimpse of his brown head in the smiling pool. of course he had never seen mrs. joe or the two children.

little joe dived. he was gone so long that farmer brown’s boy began to wonder what had become of him. suddenly his brown head popped up and in his mouth was a beautiful, speckled trout, a trout that farmer brown’s boy would have been delighted to have caught.

“gee!” exclaimed farmer brown’s boy under his breath.

little joe swam with the trout straight over to where the two little otters were waiting on a big flat stone at the edge of the water, fairly dancing with excitement. just before he reached them, little joe dropped that fish. it could still swim, though not very fast.

splash! the two young otters were in the water after it, each eager to be the one to catch it. they were clumsy and overeager, and you know overeagerness often is quite as bad as being too slow. each got in the way of the other. the fish twisted and turned and they tried to follow. at last, one of them made a lucky dash and proudly turned towards the bank with the fish in his mouth. very proud he looked. the other swam after and tried to take the fish away from him. it looked very much as if there might be a fight right there in that little pool in the laughing brook. but just then mrs. joe interfered. she swam in between the two and pushed the unsuccessful one away. he went off by himself and sulked while the other dragged his prize out on a rock and began to eat.

a few minutes later mrs. joe caught another trout and this she carried to the little otter who had none. when she let the fish go, it could swim only a little and so the young otter had no trouble in catching it. farmer brown’s boy wondered if it was just chance that those fish were alive, or if they had been kept so purposely to give the young otters a lesson in fishing. i wonder too. don’t you?

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