Finally the sheatfish decided to give in to the requests of the others and to undertake something. He put hope in his horrible looks and his big mouth. But especially in his appearance. Ironhead, too, had a big mouth and sharp teeth, but what help were they when the enemy jumped onto his back and he could not use his jaw. Yet Ironhead's appearance had been fishlike, whilst the sheatfish really looked like some monster. In this respect he sensed quite correctly that he could frighten the otter, as the otter was afraid of him and even avoided him. The sheatfish decided that it was better for him to attack the otter suddenly and unexpectedly than to wait until the otter attacked him.

"Alright," he thundered to the other fish from his mudhole. "I'll show him! I have such big jaws that I can catch him like a baby fish and then squash him like a frog. I am not the pike Ironhead who feared him and hid from him. look for him myself, attack him and finish him off."

"Good," praised the other fish. "This talk is worthy of a real fish! And moreover such hero's talk! Now we do see that you have rightly deserved your name and that you are worthy to be our biggest and mightiest kinsman."

This praising didn't particularly interest the sheatfish, as he was indeed a fine and courageous fish not only bodily, but also spiritually. He got up from his mudhole and started immediately to look for Udras in order to attack him.

Many days and nights he searched in vain, as the lake was big, and although two such big beasts like sheatfish and otter do catch the eye, they did not meet right away. However, in the evening of the third day the sheatfish caught sight of the otter in some pocket of the lake in rather deep waters and confronted him bravely.

Udras hadn't expected an attack—until now no-one had dared to attack him in or around this lake—and moreover, it was this horrible black beast, the sheatfish, who scared him to death.

The sheatfish came like a black boat with an enormous roaring and rumbling. The water parted with a broad bow-wave from his nose as if from a ship's prow and his tail thrashed around in the waves as if a black rudder.

And see! the otter could not confront the sight! It was an impressive picture—the way this big and brave fish came! The four-legged predator glanced once on both sides—and quickly took flight towards the shore. He fled swiftly paddling with his feet, so swiftly that one could even not see them, with a broad wave in front of him and a loud noise arising from it.

But the sheatfish had more strength and movement. Like a mighty ship he dashed after the otter and caught up with him. With wide open jaw he grabbed the fugitive and clamped his jaws together.

But the otter was slippery like a burbot. It's well known that his coat is always greasy as if oiled, so that the water could not get in. If the water soaked the otter's coat, then it would be impossible for him to swim so well, as the water would make him heavy and he would soon get cold. The oil also keeps him better afloat and makes it easier for him to swim through the water. This oiled coat saved the otter also from the clutch of the sheatfish's jaws. The jaws of the sheatfish snapped together, yet there was nothing in between them, as the otter had slid away and jumped onto the shore.

The sheatfish couldn't of course go and follow him on the shore and the otter was safe. Yet his fear was nevertheless great. And great was the sheatfish's feeling of triumph that he had made such a feared thief flee.

"Surely I'll catch him once more in a more favourable place!" he exclaimed and the other fish, who had seen the hunt, splashed their tails enthusiastically.

"Well done!" they praised him. "This was the response from us, the inhabitants of the lake! This murderer should not think that he can get away with anything without punishment. There is a rival even for him. Wait and see, he'll soon be caught and that will put an end to his deeds of horror!"

The mood of the fish lifted considerably after this incident and they hoped the frightened otter would not dare to do any more damage. The sheatfish's behaviour brought him even more fame and respect, and the fish presumed they need not fear anything under such good protection.

But the otter didn't, of course, give up his hunting. Already next day his new deeds—how many fish he had caught and who they had been—were known to everyone. All of them old honourable fish, good acquaintances and relatives of many of the surviving fish.

Now they once again went to ask the sheatfish not to leave this monster in peace, but to catch and destroy him.

The sheatfish, still proud of his success, promised to do so and set out to look for his enemy again.

But the otter had become very wary now. If he even saw the shadow of the sheatfish somewhere, he fled immediately or hid himself skilfully beneath tree-roots so that the sheatfish could not find him. He also tried to keep nearer the shoreline now so as to be able to escape onto land before the sheatfish, should he attack, managed to catch him.

The otter even tried to attack the sheatfish. Once, when the sheatfish was swimming in some deep waters near the shore, looking for his enemy, the otter jumped from a stone where he had been sitting onto the sheatfish's back, as he had done with the pike. Sitting astride on the sheatfish's neck the otter tried to bite through it but the sheatfish, together with the otter, swam into deeper water—and when the otter became aware of this he jumped from the back of the fish and started to swim very quickly towards the shore, the sheatfish following him. The otter escaped only narrowly and after that he attacked the sheatfish no more. Instead he avoided him so successfully that the sheatfish never caught him again.

The sheatfish had substantial wounds on his neck from the bites of the enemy and for the time being he gave up looking for the otter. His mood was altogether low after this adventure.

"It is difficult to gain the upper hand over this thief," he explained to the other fish. "Possibly I'll manage to do it some day but until then he is going to cause a lot of damage."

Despair fell over the inhabitants of the lake once again. They discussed other measures to somehow check the deeds of this thief.

One old perch thought out a complicated plan.

"You know," he said to the other fish, "the fisherman who lives in the small house at the lakeside has fishing-nets in the lake. We should try to lure the otter into those nets."

"Yes, but how could one do it?" asked the other fish.

"One has to arrange it so that a very big fish arouses the otter's appetite and swims towards the nets enticing the otter after him. Having reached the nets the fish has to swim around them skilfully so that he does not go in himself, but tricks the otter into doing so."

"The plan is not bad," the others thought, "but difficult to carry out. How can you swim so that you don't go in yourself and yet cheat the other one into there! If you yourself don't go in first, then the otter won't either."

"One has to be clever," replied the perch. "We, fish, have our skills and experience with nets as you know yourselves. Had all the fish, who have been in them, remained there, then there wouldn't be many of us left."

"That's a different matter," someone said. "To save oneself from a net—that we can all do one way or another. But you said yourself that the one who lures the otter does not go in himself. And that is right, the otter would eat him up before he manages to find his way out of the net. It is easiest to escape from the net when it is taken out of the water. But before that the otter would eat all who are in the net."

Things were discussed this way and that.

Finally an old tench said:

"I'll lure the otter into the net and get out immediately, whilst the otter stays in."

"How will you do it?" he was asked.

"Quite easily," replied the tench. "I'll dig myself into the mud under the edge of the net and get into freedom again on the other side of it."

The fish laughed and applauded:

"An excellent plan! It's very well thought out. Nobody apart from you could manage that. You are an old resident of mud, of course."

"Mud is more pleasant for me than sand," replied the tench calmly. "Fish are tastier in mud than in sand and in case of danger it is easy to find shelter in mud. How many times I have escaped from a net burying myself into mud!"

The other fish were quite envious.

"Yes, you are lucky to be a mud-fish. What can we do, when our forefathers have not frequented mud. In any case there is not enough room for everybody there. Some have to remain dwellers of sand and stones as well. We are protected by our agility and strength."

And nobody wanted to tell the tench that although it was in some ways good for him to walk in the mud, it also made him a lazy and slow beast: he would be lost should he get into danger away from the mud.

And all of them wondered how on earth the tench was going to lure the otter into the net—being so slow and fat that the otter would eat him on the way there.

However, the tench seemed to understand their thoughts and remarked:

"Don't worry that I'll end up in between the otter's jaws on the way there. I have my own devices to keep him away until necessary."

All were curious as to what these measures could be. But nobody guessed and the tench didn't let on either.

The tench started to look for the otter now and the other fish observed him from a distance.

After a long search the tench found the otter in lakeside reeds and started to play around him. The otter soon grew attentive. The tench was a nice stout fish, worth catching as one would get a good meal out of him.

The tench let the otter come quite close and then disappeared suddenly.

"Where is he?" wondered the other fish.

The otter likely was astonished and swam round and round. And see, when the otter was further away, the tench appeared again and swam in front of the otter towards the net. As soon as the otter tried to catch him, the tench disappeared again.

"Most peculiar!" wondered the other fish. "Is he a magician—that fat old tench!"

But then somebody realized:

"He digs into the mud! He digs into the mud just as the otter tries to catch him! And he does it so cleverly that even the otter does not understand: he makes the water turbid and then disappears! What a sly old fellow, one must say."

Having reached the net the tench swam grandly into it—as if it were his own home. Yet as soon as the otter tried to catch him, he was gone again. And soon he appeared on the other side of the net, whilst the otter remained in it!

"That's the end of the otter!" cheered the fish and gathered in thick shoals around the net.

Yet what did the otter do? He grabbed the biggest fish he found in the net, then surfaced, the fish in his mouth, and jumped over the net like a cat with a rat in his mouth.

The picture was frightening for the fish like a terrible nightmare. As if it wasn't enough that he could move on dry land: this beast could also perform all kinds of tricks in the water that the fish could not do. It was unnatural! In panic they swam away.

The otter had been stealing from fishnets before. It was easy to take prey from there when it wasn't readily available elsewhere. Once the otter had got into a corner of a net from where it had seemed impossible to get back to the surface. Yet, the otter had gnawed a hole in the net—a rather big basket trap—and come to the surface. It had taken him only a few minutes.

Such a beast was Udras the otter. However, his end was near as well.

"An otter has appeared at the lakeside," said fisherman Aado to his wife Reet. "At first I could not understand why so many fishbones were washed ashore; fish-bones even appear right on dry land, quite a way from the shore. I thought this was done by herons or seagulls, but I haven't noticed before that they eat so much fish. However, now I know that an otter is playing a part in it. That horrible gluttonous fish-eater."

"How do you know?" asked Reet.

"I do," replied Aado. "This gentleman has even started to steal from nets and basket traps. Herons and seagulls can't manage that. A heron doesn't ever dive underneath the water, he stands in shallow waters near the shore and lies in wait for fish—and when a fish comes near, he stuns the fish with his beak and then catches him. This one doesn't get into nets and basket traps in deep waters. Neither do the seagulls. They spy for fish whilst flying low: when a fish comes near the surface, then they dive down to attack it and snatch it. Perhaps for a few moments they remain beneath the water in doing so. Not any longer. So it is bound to be an otter. Who else wastes fish like that and prowls round altogether under water—in nets and basket traps. He, the rascal, doesn't even eat all the fish he catches: some of them he bites into and then leaves behind to look for new prey. Such a waster of fish deserves a punishment. We must put an end to it."

"But perhaps it's water rats," said his wife.

"Not at all," dismissed Aado. "Water rats don't catch as many and as big fish. They paddle around near the fish, they live in little holes in the shore and from there they attack smaller fish when they happen to come near. They don't go into nets and basket traps either, especially when these are in deep waters. Holes big enough for a dog to get through have been chewed into several basket traps. This is the work of an otter. Water rats don't need holes like that. Holes ten times smaller would suffice for them. Least of all would herons and seagulls chew basket traps. Sometimes when I saw them messing about with fishbones on the shore, I thought they had caught this prey themselves. But no, those were the fish caught by the otter, he tasted them a bit and left there. Then herons and seagulls too got their share. However, they don't need as much either. All one big waste. Moreover stealing. From my basket traps and nets! Well, I'll make the otter pay for it!"

And from that day onwards Aado the fisherman started to keep an eye on the otter. Yet he got to see him only seldom. The otter often caught his prey at night, whilst during the day he rested in the fox's den. However, he sometimes went into the lake during the day and ate his prey in broad daylight, but the lake was big and the fisherman had little chance to see or meet the thief.

Udras still went into nets and basket traps. That had lately become his favourite mode of hunting. He had already eaten himself so fat that he didn't feel like following fish in the lake any more, instead he took them without any trouble from nets and basket traps.

That made the fisherman even more angry. He looked out his old fox-trap, repaired it and put it up where he found the otter's footprints. But the otter had made acquaintance with an iron trap in his previous abode at the riverside and he knew its meaning very well. Conscientiously he kept away from such things. Moreover he realized now that people were interested in him and wanted to catch him, and because of that he became particularly careful.

The fisherman had a ten-year-old son called Ants. Ants was as familiar with fishing as his father. He came to the lake together with father and helped him with his tasks. Ants could go alone onto the lake with a small boat even in stormy weather to catch fish with rods and night-lines. The lake was as familiar to him as the corner of a room. For long hours he rowed round in his boat, observed the habits of fish and told his father afterwards what he had noticed on the lake: where—in the spring—the spawning of fish was in process, or where there were more fish to be seen, where the water was deeper and where shallower, where the bottom was muddy, where sandy, where stony. And so on.

Ants didn't mention it to his father but he decided to find out where the otter lived. Ants himself had not seen otters before, but his father had seen them elsewhere and was able to describe their appearance. Father Aado knew roughly what an otter's holt looked like and where he usually lived: in a hollow bank, with an entrance from underneath the water.

Ants took notice of all this and started to look for the otter's holt. His plan was to find the otter's abode and stand guard nearby until the otter came out of the water onto the shore. According to father the otter was supposed to do this frequently, to sit in the sunshine for pleasure, but also to eat at times when he'd caught his prey near the holt.

Ants always carried a strong cudgel in his boat as his plan was, should he get near the otter, to attack the thief immediately and kill him. Judging by father's stories the otter had to be the size of an average dog who could not run well on land, as he was supposed to have short "duck legs".

For days Ants stayed now on the lake and waited, closely watching the life of the lake from sheltered places—from reeds or bushes on the shore or from behind the twisting shoreline of the lake. Quite a few times he saw the otter swimming on the surface of the lake and then suddenly dive into the water. A loud splash came from that place and bubbles rose to the surface, followed soon by the otter too, fish in mouth. With his catch the otter then swam to the shore and started to eat it there on top of a stone or in the shelter of a bush. Ants did try on such occasions to approach the otter unseen and unheard, at times with the boat, at others along the shore, but Udras had sharp ears Lind a good sense of smell: as soon as the boy started to get nearer, he dived into the water and was gone. Only after a long interval and some distance away he came again to the surface, but even that he did in places where Ants could not see him. Ants then examined the abandoned catch—some big pike, bream or pike-perch, and was angry that the glutton wasted fish so much.

"Surely," the boy thought, "he is going to catch now another lovely fish somewhere else to eat only its back and leave the rest behind."

Ants had seen enough fish abandoned in this manner. The fact that Ants frightened the otter away from his catch wasn't the only explanation why the otter only half ate the fish and then abandoned them. He also loved to do this without Ants, as he was sated from plentiful food, and caught prey for the tastier bits, gourmet that he was.

The fisherman had taken the nets and basket traps away recently to make the otter enter the trap; in front of the trap he always put a beautiful fresh fish, but as the otter knew the meaning of the trap, he didn't dream of touching those fish; besides they were dead. The fox too, who lived in the vicinity of the lake, saw those fish and would have liked to touch them, but even he knew the meaning of the trap and kept away. As the trap was tied underneath a bush or a tree-root, the birds didn't see the fish either. So the fish soon rotted, but did not lure into the trap the one, whom the fisherman hoped to capture.

Father probably understood the reason for the frequent trips by Ants onto the lake, this is why he did not put nets and basket traps back into the water afterwards, waiting to see if the boy's search would bring any results. For this reason the otter had to hunt in the lake again, but as he did this more at night now, Ants nevertheless had little chance to see him.

Ants explored all the shoreline thoroughly, but nowhere did he notice anything that would have pointed to there being an otter's holt. The water margins were shallow, with tree-roots mostly out of water. In such places the otter could not live.

Yet, where did he live then?

Once, pondering over it, it occurred to Ants to take his dog with him. Polla, the dog, was big enough to be able to fight with the otter. Having spotted the otter, he could quickly attack him and start to fight with him until Ants could catch them up. So Ants thought. It was only necessary to lead Polla to the shore near the place where the otter was eating his prey and point the otter out to him.

Thus thought, so done.

Polla was used to being in the boat with his folks sometimes. This gave him great pleasure. For example at hay time, when they rowed to the other side of the lake to make hay, they always took Polla with them and those days were a most pleasurable experience for him, he could sniff round in unknown surroundings, prowl about, trouble rabbits and bark at squirrels.

This is why, when Ants called Polla into the boat, he came happily. But when there were no results on several trips, things got boring for Polla. To sit still in the boat in one place for hours on end made him weary. There was no intention to go to the other shore for haymaking where Polla could have had a good time, instead they just rowed back and forth on the water, from one shore to the other. After a while this wasn't at all interesting any more.

On those trips, when Polla was there, they didn't see the otter. However, when Ants was on his own, then it happened at times that he caught a glimpse of the otter in one place or another. Could the otter have smelt Polla and thus kept away from the boat or was it just a coincidence that they didn't see the otter when Polla was there?

It also became boring and weary for Ants. He had to admit to himself finally that his trips were fruitless. Father, too, seeing that the boy's search did not bring results, asked him once why he wasted time in vain with those trips on the lake,—he should instead go to the forest to pick nuts that were ripe now as autumn was approaching.

"You are looking for the otter," said his father. "But one can't catch this sly beast unless we call a hunter who could shoot him from a distance. He isn't going to go into trap, and you, even if you got near him, could not do anything to him."

"I'll strike him to death with a cudgel," replied Ants sullenly.

Father laughed.

"You won't get as near to him as to be able to hit him with a cudgel!"

Ants didn't reply.

Father promised to put the nets and basket traps back into the lake.

"Takes what he likes, breaks what he wants, it cannot be helped," he said. "I'll have to call the forest-keeper here once with his gun. He'll finish him off."

Ants took a bag and went to the forest to look for nuts. But he took his big cudgel that he had always kept in the boat with him. He didn't himself know why. Perhaps—from habit.

Ants walked along the lake-shore, the empty bag on his back and cudgel in hand, the dog in front. Polla never wanted to stay behind when Ants went to the forest, as it was much more interesting there than on the lake where nothing had happened lately.

So they walked together, until suddenly—Polla stopped, pulled down his ears against his head and started to run. Ants looked: some peculiar animal, partly like a cat, partly like a dog, low, but long, with a round head like a black turnip, a long and thick tail behind,—such a peculiar animal ran laboriously in front of Polla and steered towards a mound in the forest where one could see holes dug into the ground.

However, ten or fifteen steps away from the mound Polla caught up with the animal and attacked him. A fierce fight ensued. Polla held onto the back of the beast, who kicked about violently and tried to grasp Polla's stomach with his big sharp teeth. His body was long and he could turn it here and there extremely quickly. Finally he managed to pull himself away from Polla's teeth and now he himself jumped onto Polla's back—that was his favourite trick which helped him to bite through the neck of his victims, fish and water animals.

But Ants, who had been confounded for a moment, recovered soon, clutched the cudgel in his hand and ran to the combatants. He knew now who this peculiar animal was. A couple of hard blows onto the back and head of the animal dazed him. And Ants didn't give up thrashing the thief until he was dead.

Then Ants lifted his catch onto his back—it was quite hard work carrying it—and took it home. Father was putting the nets in order and was quite speechless for surprise when Ants threw the otter down with a thump in front of him.

"You said I wouldn't get near him and couldn't kill him with the cudgel," said Ants to his father. "Here he is now. I killed him with the cudgel. But Polla stopped him. And for that Polla has deserved a good bowl full of porridge."

"And you will get a nice fur hat from the otter's coat," said father. "And mother a collar for her coat. Otter's fur is warm, compact and doesn't let water in. And besides it's shiny and beautiful."

Thus ended the life of Udras the otter.