Long ago, when moose roamed in the forest at the mountain of the Two Rivers, otters had followed eels migrating from ponds and swamps to the seas.
The eldest and biggest of the litter was a dog cub, and when he drew his first breath he was less than five inches long from his nose to where his tail joined his back-bone.
The moose are gone, and their bones lie under the sand in the soft coal which was the forest by the estuary, thousands of years ago.
From all the ages my soul desired to take that soul-life which had flowed through them as the sunbeams had continually found an earth.