As the shades of evening fall, says Brehm, it becomes active. During the day it seems as rigid as a statue, but at night it sets out, and on the first part of its journey makes frequent pauses, like those made by the domestic cat previous to entering an enclosure that appears to threaten danger. Only a very inexperienced person could mistake the spoor of the lynx for that of any other animal. The imprint is very deep owing to the strength of the paw, which exceeds that of a large wolf. It is very round and, as the claws are hidden, it is blunt in front. The pace is short compared with the size of the imprints made. The spoor takes a form something like that of a row of pearls; any one who has once seen it is sure to recognize it again. The wild cat seems clumsy; its body is heavy, but it possesses the agility of its kind and surpasses them in rapidity of movement and endurance. Almost all animals and birds are its prey, although only the strongest lynx will attack deer. In temperate climates it is detested by the farmer and sportsman as it kills more than it needs, for its sustenance, often merely lapping the blood of its victim, and eating only the choicest portions. In the south it will not return a second time to this food, but in the north, where game is scarce, it always returns, remaining near the carcass until it is all eaten. The wild cat has been tamed but it has not been found to be a very attractive animal to handle when angry. Loewis gives the following report of a female that he kept. He says: "A few months sufficed to teach my young lynx her name, 'Lucy.' When, during a hunting expedition, I would call out this name, together with those of numerous dogs, she would always respond to her own name, but to no other. Her training had been very easy and had reached such a point that when she was engaged in a passionate, but forbidden chase of hares, sheep, or poultry, and I called her, she would stop instantly and return, like a guilty dog, crouching low on the ground and pleading for mercy. When she was too far away to hear our voices, the report of a gun was sufficient to call her back in breathless haste. Lucy took part in all my autumnal hunting-trips. When she got sight of a poor hare she at once engaged in hot pursuit, and, in spite of her great excitement, she always had enough reasoning power to gauge the distance and to approximate the difference between the hare's speed and her own. She would obey only my brother's and my own summons, and showed no respect to any other persons. When we were both absent for a whole day, nobody could control her, and then, woe be unto the careless chicken or the thought-less goose! During our absence she would, as soon as it became dusk, climb on the roof, lean against the chimney, and go to sleep. As soon as our carriage came into the yard, late at night, she sprang to the stairs in a few bounds. If I then called her name she would come