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diff --git a/13730-h/13730-h.htm b/13730-h/13730-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dc9c546 --- /dev/null +++ b/13730-h/13730-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5995 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Amateur Poacher, by Richard Jefferies</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: 90%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +p.center {text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.right {text-align: right; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.footnote {font-size: 90%; + text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13730 ***</div> + +<h1>The Amateur Poacher</h1> + +<h2 class="no-break">by Richard Jefferies</h2> + +<hr /> + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#pref01">PREFACE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap01">CHAPTER I. THE FIRST GUN</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap02">CHAPTER II. THE OLD PUNT: A CURIOUS “TURNPIKE”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap03">CHAPTER III. TREE-SHOOTING: A FISHING EXPEDITION</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap04">CHAPTER IV. EGG-TIME: A “GIP”-TRAP</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap05">CHAPTER V. WOODLAND TWILIGHT: TRAITORS ON THE GIBBET</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap06">CHAPTER VI. LURCHER-LAND: “THE PARK”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap07">CHAPTER VII. OBY, AND HIS SYSTEM: THE MOUCHER’S CALENDAR</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap08">CHAPTER VIII. CHURCHYARD PHEASANTS: BEFORE THE BENCH</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap09">CHAPTER IX. LUKE, THE RABBIT-CONTRACTOR: THE BROOK PATH</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap10">CHAPTER X. FARMER WILLUM’S PLACE: SNIPE-SHOOTING</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap11">CHAPTER XI. FERRETING: A RABBIT-HUNTER</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap12">CHAPTER XII. A WINTER NIGHT: OLD TRICKS: +PHEASANT-STALKING: MATCHLOCK VERSUS BREECH-LOADER: CONCLUSION</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<h2><a name="pref01"></a>PREFACE</h2> + +<p> +The following pages are arranged somewhat in the order of time, beginning with +the first gun, and attempts at shooting. Then come the fields, the first hills, +and woods explored, often without a gun, or any thought of destruction: and +next the poachers, and other odd characters observed at their work. Perhaps the +idea of shooting with a matchlock, or wheel-lock, might, if put in practice, at +least afford some little novelty. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +R.J. +</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>THE AMATEUR POACHER</h2> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap01"></a>CHAPTER I<br/> +THE FIRST GUN</h2> + +<p> +They burned the old gun that used to stand in the dark corner up in the garret, +close to the stuffed fox that always grinned so fiercely. Perhaps the reason +why he seemed in such a ghastly rage was that he did not come by his death +fairly. Otherwise his pelt would not have been so perfect. And why else was he +put away up there out of sight?—and so magnificent a brush as he had too. +But there he stood, and mounted guard over the old flintlock that was so +powerful a magnet to us in those days. Though to go up there alone was no +slight trial of moral courage after listening to the horrible tales of the +carters in the stable, or the old women who used to sit under the hedge in the +shade, on an armful of hay, munching their crusts at luncheon time. +</p> + +<p> +The great cavernous place was full of shadows in the brightest summer day; for +the light came only through the chinks in the shutters. These were flush with +the floor and bolted firmly. The silence was intense, it being so near the roof +and so far away from the inhabited parts of the house. Yet there were sometimes +strange acoustical effects—as when there came a low tapping at the +shutters, enough to make your heart stand still. There was then nothing for it +but to dash through the doorway into the empty cheese-room adjoining, which was +better lighted. No doubt it was nothing but the labourers knocking the stakes +in for the railing round the rickyard, but why did it sound just exactly +outside the shutters? When that ceased the staircase creaked, or the pear-tree +boughs rustled against the window. The staircase always waited till you had +forgotten all about it before the loose worm-eaten planks sprang back to their +place. +</p> + +<p> +Had it not been for the merry whistling of the starlings on the thatch above, +it would not have been possible to face the gloom and the teeth of Reynard, +ever in the act to snap, and the mystic noises, and the sense of +guilt—for the gun was forbidden. Besides which there was the black mouth +of the open trapdoor overhead yawning fearfully—a standing terror and +temptation; for there was a legend of a pair of pistols thrown up there out of +the way—a treasure-trove tempting enough to make us face anything. But +Orion must have the credit of the courage; I call him Orion because he was a +hunter and had a famous dog. The last I heard of him he had just ridden through +a prairie fire, and says the people out there think nothing of it. +</p> + +<p> +We dragged an ancient linen-press under the trapdoor, and put some boxes on +that, and finally a straight-backed oaken chair. One or two of those chairs +were split up and helped to do the roasting on the kitchen hearth. So, climbing +the pile, we emerged under the rafters, and could see daylight faintly in +several places coming through the starlings’ holes. One or two bats +fluttered to and fro as we groped among the lumber, but no pistols could be +discovered; nothing but a cannon-ball, rusty enough and about as big as an +orange, which they say was found in the wood, where there was a brush in +Oliver’s time. +</p> + +<p> +In the middle of our expedition there came the well-known whistle, echoing +about the chimneys, with which it was the custom to recall us to dinner. How +else could you make people hear who might be cutting a knobbed stick in the +copse half a mile away or bathing in the lake? We had to jump down with a run; +and then came the difficulty; for black dusty cobwebs, the growth of fifty +years, clothed us from head to foot. There was no brushing or picking them off, +with that loud whistle repeated every two minutes. +</p> + +<p> +The fact where we had been was patent to all; and so the chairs got +burned—but one, which was rickety. After which a story crept out, of a +disjointed skeleton lying in a corner under the thatch. Though just a little +suspicious that this might be a <i>ruse</i> to frighten us from a second +attempt, we yet could not deny the possibility of its being true. Sometimes in +the dusk, when I sat poring over “Koenigsmark, the Robber,” by the +little window in the cheese-room, a skull seemed to peer down the trapdoor. But +then I had the flintlock by me for protection. +</p> + +<p> +There were giants in the days when that gun was made; for surely no modern +mortal could have held that mass of metal steady to his shoulder. The +linen-press and a chest on the top of it formed, however, a very good +gun-carriage; and, thus mounted, aim could be taken out of the window at the +old mare feeding in the meadow below by the brook, and a “bead” +could be drawn upon Molly, the dairymaid, kissing the fogger behind the hedge, +little dreaming that the deadly tube was levelled at them. At least this +practice and drill had one useful effect—the eye got accustomed to the +flash from the pan, instead of blinking the discharge, which ruins the +shooting. Almost everybody and everything on the place got shot dead in this +way without knowing it. +</p> + +<p> +It was not so easy as might be supposed to find proper flints. The best time to +look for them was after a heavy storm of rain had washed a shallow channel +beside the road, when you might select some hardy splinters which had lain +hidden under the dust. How we were found out is not quite clear: perhaps the +powder left a smell of sulphur for any one who chanced to go up in the garret. +</p> + +<p> +But, however that may be, one day, as we came in unexpectedly from a voyage in +the punt, something was discovered burning among the logs on the kitchen +hearth; and, though a desperate rescue was attempted, nothing was left but the +barrel of our precious gun and some crooked iron representing the remains of +the lock. There are things that are never entirely forgotten, though the +impression may become fainter as years go by. The sense of the cruel injustice +of that act will never quite depart. +</p> + +<p> +But they could not burn the barrel, and we almost succeeded in fitting it to a +stock of elder. Elder has a thick pith running down the centre: by removing +that the gouge and chisel had not much work to do to make a groove for the old +bell-mouthed barrel to lie in. The matchlock, for as such it was intended, was +nearly finished when our hopes were dashed to the ground by a piece of +unnatural cunning. One morning the breechpiece that screwed in was missing. +This was fatal. A barrel without a breechpiece is like a cup without a bottom. +It was all over. +</p> + +<p> +There are days in spring when the white clouds go swiftly past, with occasional +breaks of bright sunshine lighting up a spot in the landscape. That is like the +memory of one’s youth. There is a long dull blank, and then a brilliant +streak of recollection. Doubtless it was a year or two afterwards when, seeing +that the natural instinct could not be suppressed but had better be recognised, +they produced a real gun (single-barrel) for me from the clock-case. +</p> + +<p> +It stood on the landing just at the bottom of the dark flight that led to the +garret. An oaken case six feet high or more, and a vast dial, with a mysterious +picture of a full moon and a ship in full sail that somehow indicated the +quarters of the year, if you had been imitating Rip Van Winkle and after a +sleep of six months wanted to know whether it was spring or autumn. But only to +think that all the while we were puzzling over the moon and the ship and the +queer signs on the dial a gun was hidden inside! The case was locked, it is +true; but there are ways of opening locks, and we were always handy with tools. +</p> + +<p> +This gun was almost, but not quite so long as the other. That dated from the +time between Stuart and Hanover; this might not have been more than seventy +years old. And a beautiful piece of workmanship it was: my new double +breechloader is a coarse common thing to compare with it. Long and slender and +light as a feather, it came to the shoulder with wonderful ease. Then there was +a groove on the barrel at the breech and for some inches up which caught the +eye and guided the glance like a trough to the sight at the muzzle and thence +to the bird. The stock was shod with brass, and the trigger-guard was of brass, +with a kind of flange stretching half-way down to the butt and inserted in the +wood. After a few minutes’ polishing it shone like gold, and to see the +sunlight flash on it was a joy. +</p> + +<p> +You might note the grain of the barrel, for it had not been browned; and it +took a good deal of sand to get the rust off. By aid of a little oil and +careful wiping after a shower it was easy to keep it bright. Those browned +barrels only encourage idleness. The lock was a trifle dull at first, simply +from lack of use. A small screwdriver soon had it to pieces, and it speedily +clicked again sweet as a flute. If the hammer came back rather far when at +full-cock, that was because the lock had been converted from a flint, and you +could not expect it to be absolutely perfect. Besides which, as the fall was +longer the blow was heavier, and the cap was sure to explode. +</p> + +<p> +By old farmhouses, mostly in exposed places (for which there is a reason), one +or more huge walnut trees may be found. The provident folk of those days +planted them with the purpose of having their own gunstocks cut out of the wood +when the tree was thrown. They could then be sure it was really walnut, and a +choice piece of timber thoroughly well seasoned. I like to think of those +times, when men settled themselves down, and planted and planned and laid out +their gardens and orchards and woods, as if they and their sons and sons’ +sons, to the twentieth generation, were sure to enjoy the fruit of their +labour. +</p> + +<p> +The reason why the walnuts are put in exposed places, on the slope of a rise, +with open aspect to the east and north, is because the walnut is a foolish tree +that will not learn by experience. If it feels the warmth of a few genial days +in early spring, it immediately protrudes its buds; and the next morning a +bitter frost cuts down every hope of fruit for that year, leaving the leaf as +black as may be. Wherefore the east wind is desirable to keep it as backward as +possible. +</p> + +<p> +There was a story that the stock of this gun had been cut out of a walnut tree +that was thrown on the place by my great-grandfather, who saw it well seasoned, +being a connoisseur of timber, which is, indeed, a sort of instinct in all his +descendants. And a vast store of philosophy there is in timber if you study it +aright. +</p> + +<p> +After cleaning the gun and trying it at a mark, the next thing was to get a +good shot with it. Now there was an elm that stood out from the hedge a little, +almost at the top of the meadow, not above five-and-twenty yards from the other +hedge that bounded the field. Two mounds could therefore be commanded by any +one in ambush behind the elm, and all the angular corner of the mead was within +range. +</p> + +<p> +It was not far from the house; but the ground sank into a depression there, and +the ridge of it behind shut out everything except just the roof of the tallest +hayrick. As one sat on the sward behind the elm, with the back turned on the +rick and nothing in front but the tall elms and the oaks in the other hedge, it +was quite easy to fancy it the verge of the prairie with the backwoods close +by. +</p> + +<p> +The rabbits had scratched the yellow sand right out into the grass—it is +always very much brighter in colour where they have just been at work—and +the fern, already almost yellow too, shaded the mouths of their buries. Thick +bramble bushes grew out from the mound and filled the space between it and the +elm: there were a few late flowers on them still, but the rest were hardening +into red sour berries. Westwards, the afternoon sun, with all his autumn heat, +shone full against the hedge and into the recess, and there was not the shadow +of a leaf for shelter on that side. +</p> + +<p> +The gun was on the turf, and the little hoppers kept jumping out of the grass +on to the stock: once their king, a grasshopper, alighted on it and rested, his +green limbs tipped with red rising above his back. About the distant wood and +the hills there was a soft faint haze, which is what Nature finishes her +pictures with. Something in the atmosphere which made it almost visible: all +the trees seemed to stand in a liquid light—the sunbeams were suspended +in the air instead of passing through. The butterflies even were very idle in +the slumberous warmth; and the great green dragon-fly rested on a leaf, his +tail arched a little downwards, just as he puts it when he wishes to stop +suddenly in his flight. +</p> + +<p> +The broad glittering trigger-guard got quite hot in the sun, and the stock was +warm when I felt it every now and then. The grain of the walnut-wood showed +plainly through the light polish: it was not varnished like the stock of the +double-barrel they kept padlocked to the rack over the high mantelpiece +indoors. Still you could see the varnish. It was of a rich dark horse-chestnut +colour, and yet so bright and clear that if held close you could see your face +in it. Behind it the grain of the wood was just perceptible; especially at the +grip, where hard hands had worn it away somewhat. The secret of that varnish is +lost—like that of the varnish on the priceless old violins. +</p> + +<p> +But you could feel the wood more in my gun: so that it was difficult to keep +the hand off it, though the rabbits would not come out; and the shadowless +recess grew like a furnace, for it focussed the rays of the sun. The heat on +the sunny side of a thick hedge between three and four in the afternoon is +almost tropical if you remain still, because the air is motionless: the only +relief is to hold your hat loose; or tilt it against your head, the other edge +of the brim on the ground. Then the grass-blades rise up level with the +forehead. There is a delicious smell in growing grass, and a sweetness comes up +from the earth. +</p> + +<p> +Still it got hotter and hotter; and it was not possible to move in the least +degree, lest a brown creature sitting on the sand at the mouth of his hole, and +hidden himself by the fern, should immediately note it. And Orion was waiting +in the rickyard for the sound of the report, and very likely the shepherd too. +We knew that men in Africa, watched by lions, had kept still in the sunshine +till, reflected from the rock, it literally scorched them, not daring to move; +and we knew all about the stoicism of the Red Indians. But Ulysses was ever my +pattern and model: that man of infinite patience and resource. +</p> + +<p> +So, though the sun might burn and the air become suffocating in that close +corner, and the quivering line of heat across the meadow make the eyes dizzy to +watch, yet not a limb must be moved. The black flies came in crowds; but they +are not so tormenting if you plunge your face in the grass, though they +titillate the back of the hand as they run over it. Under the bramble bush was +a bury that did not look much used; and once or twice a great blue fly came out +of it, the buzz at first sounding hollow and afar off and becoming clearer as +it approached the mouth of the hole. There was the carcass of a dead rabbit +inside no doubt. +</p> + +<p> +A humble-bee wandering along—they are restless things—buzzed right +under my hat, and became entangled in the grass by my ear. Now we knew by +experience in taking their honey that they could sting sharply if irritated, +though good-tempered by nature. How he “burred” and buzzed and +droned!—till by-and-by, crawling up the back of my head, he found an open +space and sailed away. Then, looking out again, there was a pair of ears in the +grass not ten yards distant: a rabbit had come out at last. But the first +delight was quickly over: the ears were short and sharply pointed, and almost +pinkly transparent. +</p> + +<p> +What would the shepherd say if I brought home one of his hated enemies no +bigger than a rat? The young rabbit made waiting still more painful, being far +enough from the hedge to get a clear view into the recess if anything attracted +his notice. Why the shepherd hated rabbits was because the sheep would not feed +where they had worn their runs in the grass. Not the least movement was +possible now—not even that little shifting which makes a position just +endurable: the heat seemed to increase; the thought of Ulysses could hardly +restrain the almost irresistible desire to stir. +</p> + +<p> +When, suddenly, there was a slight rustling among the boughs of an oak in the +other hedge, as of wings against twigs: it was a woodpigeon, better game than a +rabbit. He would, I knew, first look round before he settled himself to preen +his feathers on the branch, and, if everything was still while that keen +inspection lasted, would never notice me. This is their habit—and the +closer you are underneath them the less chance of their perceiving you: for a +pigeon perched rarely looks straight downwards. If flying, it is just the +reverse; for then they seem to see under them quicker than in any other +direction. +</p> + +<p> +Slowly lifting the long barrel of the gun—it was fortunate the sunlight +glancing on the bright barrel was not reflected towards the oak—I got it +to bear upon the bird; but then came a doubt. It was all eight-and-twenty yards +across the angle of the meadow to the oak—a tremendous long shot under +the circumstances. For they would not trust us with the large copper +powder-flask, but only with a little pistol-flask (it had belonged to the pair +of pistols we tried to find), and we were ordered not to use more than a charge +and a half at a time. That was quite enough to kill blackbirds. (The noise of +the report was always a check in this way; such a trifle of powder only made a +slight puff.) +</p> + +<p> +Shot there was in plenty—a whole tobacco-pipe bowl full, carefully +measured out of the old yellow canvas money-bag that did for a shot belt. A +starling could be knocked off the chimney with this charge easily, and so could +a blackbird roosting in a bush at night. But a woodpigeon nearly thirty yards +distant was another matter; for the old folk (and the birdkeepers too) said +that their quills were so hard the shot would glance aside unless it came with +great force. Very likely the pigeon would escape, and all the rabbits in the +buries would be too frightened to come out at all. +</p> + +<p> +A beautiful bird he was on the bough, perched well in view and clearly defined +against the sky behind; and my eye travelled along the groove on the breech and +up the barrel, and so to the sight and across to him; and the finger, which +always would keep time with the eye, pulled at the trigger. +</p> + +<p> +A mere puff of a report, and then a desperate fluttering in the tree and a +cloud of white feathers floating above the hedge, and a heavy fall among the +bushes. He was down, and Orion’s spaniel (that came racing like mad from +the rickyard the instant he heard the discharge) had him in a moment. Orion +followed quickly. Then the shepherd came up, rather stiff on his legs from +rheumatism, and stepped the distance, declaring it was thirty yards good; after +which we all walked home in triumph. +</p> + +<p> +Molly the dairymaid came a little way from the rickyard, and said she would +pluck the pigeon that very night after work. She was always ready to do +anything for us boys; and we could never quite make out why they scolded her so +for an idle hussy indoors. It seemed so unjust. Looking back, I recollect she +had very beautiful brown eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“You mind you chaws the shot well, measter,” said the shepherd, +“afore you loads th’ gun. The more you chaws it the better it +sticks the-gither, an’ the furder it kills um;” a theory of gunnery +that which was devoutly believed in in his time and long anticipated the wire +cartridges. And the old soldiers that used to come round to haymaking, glad of +a job to supplement their pensions, were very positive that if you bit the +bullet and indented it with your teeth, it was perfectly fatal, no matter to +what part of the body its billet took it. +</p> + +<p> +In the midst of this talk as we moved on, I carrying the gun at the trail with +the muzzle downwards, the old ramrod, long disused and shrunken, slipped half +out; the end caught the ground, and it snapped short off in a second. A +terrible disaster this, turning everything to bitterness: Orion was especially +wroth, for it was his right next to shoot. However, we went down to the smithy +at the inn, to take counsel of the blacksmith, a man of knowledge and a trusty +friend. “Aha!” said he, “it’s not the first time +I’ve made a ramrod. There’s a piece of lancewood in the store +overhead which I keep on purpose; it’s as tough as a bow—they make +carriage-shafts of it; you shall have a better rod than was ever fitted to a +Joe Manton.” So we took him down some pippins, and he set to work on it +that evening. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap02"></a>CHAPTER II<br/> +THE OLD PUNT: A CURIOUS “TURNPIKE”</h2> + +<p> +The sculls of our punt, being short and stout, answered very well as levers to +heave the clumsy old craft off the sand into which it sank so deeply. That +sheltered corner of the mere, with a shelving sandy shore, and a steep bank +behind covered with trees, was one of the best places to fish for roach: you +could see them playing under the punt in shoals any sunny day. +</p> + +<p> +There was a projecting bar almost enclosing the creek, which was quite still, +even when the surf whitened the stony strand without, driven before a wet and +stormy south-wester. It was the merest routine to carry the painter ashore and +twist the rotten rope round an exposed root of the great willow tree; for there +was not the slightest chance of that ancient craft breaking adrift. All our +strength and the leverage of the sculls could scarcely move her, so much had +she settled. But we had determined to sail that lovely day to visit the island +of Calypso, and had got all our arms and munitions of war aboard, besides being +provisioned and carrying some fruit for fear of scurvy. There was of course the +gun, placed so as not to get wet; for the boat leaked, and had to be frequently +baled out with a tin mug—one that the haymakers used. +</p> + +<p> +Indeed, if we had not caulked her with some dried moss and some stiff clay, it +is doubtful if she would have floated far. The well was full of dead leaves +that had been killed by the caterpillars and the blight, and had fallen from +the trees before their time; and there were one or two bunches of grass growing +at the stern part from between the decaying planks. +</p> + +<p> +Besides the gun there was the Indian bow, scooped out inside in a curious way, +and covered with strange designs or coloured hieroglyphics: it had been brought +home by one of our people years before. There was but one man in the place who +could bend that bow effectually; so that though we valued it highly we could +not use it. By it lay another of briar, which was pliable enough and had +brought down more than one bird. +</p> + +<p> +Orion hit a rabbit once; but though sore wounded it got to the bury, and, +struggling in, the arrow caught the side of the hole and was drawn out. Indeed, +a nail filed sharp is not of much avail as an arrowhead; you must have it +barbed, and that was a little beyond our skill. Ikey the blacksmith had forged +us a spearhead after a sketch from a picture of a Greek warrior; and a +rake-handle served as a shaft. It was really a dangerous weapon. He had also +made us a small anchor according to plan; nor did he dip too deeply into our +pocket-money. +</p> + +<p> +Then the mast and square-sail, fitted out of a window-blind, took up a +considerable space; for although it was perfectly calm, a breeze might arise. +And what with these and the pole for punting occasionally, the deck of the +vessel was in that approved state of confusion which always characterises a +ship on the point of departure. Nor must Orion’s fishing-rod and gear be +forgotten, nor the cigar-box at the stern (a present from the landlady at the +inn) which contained a chart of the mere and a compass. +</p> + +<p> +With a “yeo—heave-ho!” we levered her an inch at a time, and +then loosened her by working her from side to side, and so, panting and +struggling, shoved the punt towards the deep. Slowly a course was shaped out of +the creek—past the bar and then along the edge of the thick weeds, +stretching so far out into the water that the moorhen feeding near the land was +beyond reach of shot. From the green matted mass through which a boat could +scarcely have been forced came a slight uncertain sound, now here now yonder, a +faint “suck-sock;” and the dragon-flies were darting to and fro. +</p> + +<p> +The only ripple of the surface, till broken by the sculls, was where the +swallows dipped as they glided, leaving a circle of tiny wavelets that barely +rolled a yard. Past the low but steep bluff of sand rising sheer out of the +water, drilled with martins’ holes and topped by a sapling oak in the +midst of a great furze bush: yellow bloom of the furze, tall brake fern +nestling under the young branches, woodbine climbing up and bearing sweet +coronals of flower. +</p> + +<p> +Past the barley that came down to the willows by the shore—ripe and white +under the bright sunshine, but yonder beneath the shadow of the elms with a +pale tint of amber. Past broad rising meadows, where under the oaks on the +upper ground the cattle were idly lying out of the sultry heat. +</p> + +<p> +Then the barren islands, strewn with stone and mussel-shells glistening in the +sunshine, over which in a gale the waves made a clean sweep, rendered the +navigation intricate; and the vessel had to be worked in and out, now scraping +against rocky walls of sandstone, now grounding and churning up the bottom, +till presently she floated in the bay beneath the firs. There a dark shadow +hung over the black water—still and silent, so still that even the aspens +rested from their rustling. +</p> + +<p> +Out again into the sunshine by the wide mouth of the Green River, as the chart +named the brook whose level stream scarce moved into the lake. A streak of blue +shot up it between the banks, and a shrill pipe came back as the kingfisher +hastened away. By the huge boulder of sarsen, whose shoulder projected but a +few inches—in stormy times a dangerous rock to mariners—and then +into the unknown narrow seas between the endless osier-beds and withy-covered +isles. +</p> + +<p> +There the chart failed; and the known landmarks across the open +waters—the firs and elms, the green knoll with the cattle—were shut +out by thick branches on either hand. In and out and round the islets, sounding +the depth before advancing, winding now this way, now that, till all idea of +the course was lost, and it became a mere struggle to get forward. Drooping +boughs swept along the gunwales, thick-matted weeds cumbered the way; +“snags,” jagged stumps of trees, threatened to thrust their tops +through the bottom; and, finally, panting and weary of poling through the maze, +we emerged in a narrow creek all walled in and enclosed with vegetation. +</p> + +<p> +Running her ashore on the soft oozy ground, we rested under a great hawthorn +bush that grew at the very edge, and, looking upwards, could see in the canopy +above the black interlaced twigs of a dove’s nest. Tall willow poles rose +up all around, and above them was the deep blue of the sky. On the willow stems +that were sometimes under water the bark had peeled in scales; beneath the +surface bunches of red fibrous roots stretched out their slender filaments +tipped with white, as if feeling like a living thing for prey. +</p> + +<p> +A dreamy, slumberous place, where the sedges slept, and the green flags bowed +their pointed heads. Under the bushes in the distant nook the moorhen, +reassured by the silence, came out from the grey-green grass and the rushes. +Surely Calypso’s cave could not be far distant, where she +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + with work and song the time divides,<br/> +And through the loom the golden shuttle guides. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +For the Immortals are hiding somewhere still in the woods; even now I do not +weary searching for them. +</p> + +<p> +But as we rested a shadow fell from a cloud that covered the sun, and +immediately a faint sigh arose from among the sedges and the reeds, and two +pale yellow leaves fell from the willows on the water. A gentle breeze followed +the cloud, chasing its shadow. Orion touched his rod meaningly. So I stepped +ashore with the gun to see if a channel could be found into the open water, and +pushed through the bush. Briar and bramble choked the path, and hollow willow +stoles; but, holding the gun upright, it was possible to force through, till, +pushing between a belt of reeds and round an elder thicket, I came suddenly on +a deep, clear pool—all but walking into it. Up rose a large bird out of +the water with a bustling of wings and splashing, compelled to +“rocket” by the thick bushes and willow poles. There was no time to +aim; but the old gun touched the shoulder and went off without conscious +volition on my part. +</p> + +<p> +The bird flew over the willows, but the next moment there was a heavy splash +somewhere beyond out of sight. Then came an echo of the report sent back from +the woods adjoining, and another, and a third and fourth, as the sound rolled +along the side of the hill, caught in the coombes and thrown to and fro like a +ball in a tennis-court. Wild with anxiety, we forced the punt at the bulrushes, +in the corner where it looked most open, and with all our might heaved it over +the weeds and the mud, and so round the islet into the next pool, and thence +into the open water. It was a wild duck, and was speedily on board. +</p> + +<p> +Stepping the mast and hoisting the sail, we drifted before the faint breath of +air that now just curled the surface, steering straight across the open for the +stony barren islands at the mouth of the bay. The chart drawn in +pencil—what labour it cost us!—said that there, a few yards from +the steep shore, was a shoal with deep water round it. For some reason there +always seemed a slight movement or current—a set of the water there, as +if it flowed into the little bay. +</p> + +<p> +In swimming we often came suddenly out of a cold into a stratum of warm water +(at the surface); and perhaps the difference in the temperature may have caused +the drift, for the bay was in shadow half the day. Now, wherever there is +motion there will fish assemble; so as the punt approached the shoal the sail +was doused, and at twenty yards’ distance I <i>put</i> the anchor into +the water—not dropping it, to avoid the splash—and let it slip +gently to the bottom. +</p> + +<p> +Then, paying out the cable, we drifted to the edge of the shoal without the +least disturbance, and there brought up. Orion had his bait ready—he +threw his line right to windward, so that the float might drag the worm +naturally with the wind and slight current towards the shoal. +</p> + +<p> +The tiny blue buoy dances up and down on the miniature waves; beyond it a +dazzling path of gold stretches away to the distant osier-islands—a path +down which we came without seeing it till we looked back. The wavelets strike +with a faint “sock-sock” against the bluff overhanging bow, and +then roll on to the lee-shore close at hand. +</p> + +<p> +It rises steep; then a broad green ledge; and after that, still steeper, the +face of a long-deserted sand-pit, where high up a rabbit sits at the mouth of +his hole, within range, but certain to escape even if hit, and therefore safe. +On the turf below is a round black spot, still showing, though a twelvemonth +has gone by since we landed with half a dozen perch, lit a fire and cooked the +fishes. For Molly never could “a-bear” perch, because of the +hardness of the scales, saying she would as soon “scrape a vlint;” +and they laughed to scorn our idea of skinning them as you do moorhens, whose +“dowl” no fingers can pick. +</p> + +<p> +So we lit a fire and blew it up, lying on the soft short grass in a state of +nature after a swim, there being none to see us but the glorious sun. The +skinned perch were sweeter than any I have tasted since. +</p> + +<p> +“Look!” whispers Orion, suddenly. The quill above the blue buoy +nods as it lifts over the wavelets—nods again, sinks a little, jerks up, +and then goes down out of sight. Orion feels the weight. “Two pounds, if +he’s an ounce!” he shouts: soon after a splendid perch is in the +boat, nearer three pounds perhaps than two. Flop! whop! how he leaps up and +down on the planks, soiled by the mud, dulling his broad back and barred sides +on the grit and sand. +</p> + +<p> +Roaming about like this with the gun, now on the water in the punt, and now on +land, we gradually came to notice very closely the game we wished to shoot. We +saw, for instance, that the rabbit when feeding or moving freely, unless +quickened by alarm, has a peculiar way of dwelling upon his path. It almost +resembles creeping; for both fore feet stop while the hinder come up—one +hinder foot slightly behind the other, and rather wide apart. +</p> + +<p> +When a fall of snow presents a perfect impression of his passage, it appears as +if the animal had walked slowly backwards. This deceives many who at such times +go out to pick up anything that comes in their way; for they trace the trail in +the wrong direction. The truth is, that when the rabbit pauses for the hinder +feet to come up he again rests momentarily upon these before the two foremost +are put forth, and so presses not only the paw proper but the whole first joint +of the hind leg upon the snow. A glance at the hind feet of a rabbit will show +what I mean: they will be found to display plain signs of friction against the +ground. +</p> + +<p> +The habit has given the creature considerable power of standing up on the +hinder feet; he can not only sit on his haunches, but raise himself almost +upright, and remain in that position to listen for some little time. For the +same reason he can bark the ash saplings higher up than would be imagined: +where he cannot reach, the mice climb up and nibble straight lines across the +young pole, as if done with a single stroke from a saw that scraped away the +rind but did not reach the wood. +</p> + +<p> +In front of a large rabbit bury the grass will be found discoloured with sand +at some distance from the mouth of the hole. This is explained by particles +adherent to the rabbits’ hind feet, and rubbing off against the grass +blades. Country people call this peculiar gait “sloppetting;” and +one result of it is that the rabbits wear away the grass where they are +numerous almost as much as they eat it away. +</p> + +<p> +There was such a space worn by the attrition of feet sprinkled with sand before +the extensive burrow at the top of the meadow where I shot the woodpigeon. +These marks suggested to us that we should attempt some more wholesale system +of capture than shooting. It was not for the mere desire of destruction, but +for a special purpose, that we turned our attention to wiring. The punt, though +much beloved, was, like all punts, a very bad sailer. A boat with a keel that +could tack, and so work into the wind’s eye, was our ambition. +</p> + +<p> +The blacksmith Ikey readily purchased every rabbit we obtained at sixpence +each. Rabbits were not so dear then as now; but of course he made a large +profit even then. The same rabbits at present would be worth fifteen or +eighteen pence. Every sixpence was carefully saved, but it was clear that a +long time must elapse before the goal was attained. The blacksmith started the +idea of putting up a “turnpike”—<i>i.e.</i> a wire—but +professed ignorance as to the method of setting it. That was a piece of his +cunning—that he might escape responsibility. +</p> + +<p> +The shepherd, too, when obliquely questioned, shook his head, pursed his lips, +threw his pitching-bar over his shoulder, and marched off with a mysterious +hint that our friend Ikey would some day put his “vut in it.” It +did not surprise us that the shepherd should turn his back on anything of the +kind; for he was a leading man among the “Ranters,” and frequently +exhorted them in his cottage. +</p> + +<p> +The carter’s lad was about at the time, and for the moment we thought of +applying to him. He was standing on the threshold of the stable, under the +horseshoes and weasles’ feet nailed up to keep the witches away, teasing +a bat that he had found under the tiles. But suddenly the dusky thing bit him +sharply, and he uttered an oath; while the creature, released, flew aimlessly +into the elms. It was better to avoid him. +</p> + +<p> +Indoors, they would have put a very heavy hand upon the notion had they known +of it: so we had to rely solely upon the teaching of experiment. In the first +attempt, a stick that had been put by for the thatcher, but which he had not +yet split, was cut short and sharpened for the plug that prevents the animal +carrying away the wire when snared. This is driven into the earth; at the +projecting end a notch was cut to hold the string attached to the end of the +wire away from the run. +</p> + +<p> +A smaller stick supported the wire above the ground; this latter only just +sufficiently thrust into the sward to stand firmly upright. Willow was used for +this at first; but it is a feeble wood: it split too much, or bent and gave way +instead of holding the wire in its place. The best for the purpose we found +were the nut-tree rods that shoot up among the hazel thickets, no larger than +the shaft of an arrow, and almost as straight. A slit about half an inch deep +was made in the upper end, and in this slit the shank of the wire was sunk. +Once or twice the upright was peeled; but this was a mistake, for the white +wand was then too conspicuous. The bark should be left on. +</p> + +<p> +Three copper wires twisted tight formed the snare itself; we twisted them like +the strands of a rope, thinking it would give more strength. The wire projected +horizontally, the loop curling downwards. It was first set up at a spot where a +very broad and much-worn run—more like a footpath than a rabbit +track—forked into several lesser runs, and at about five yards from the +hedge. But though adjusted, as we thought, with the utmost nicety, no rabbit +would put his neck into it—not even in the darkness of the night. By day +they all played round it in perfect safety. +</p> + +<p> +After waiting some time it was removed and reset just over a hole—the +loop close to the opening. It looked scarcely possible for a rabbit to creep +out without being caught, the loop being enlarged to correspond with the mouth +of the hole. For a while it seemed as if the rabbits declined to use the hole +at all; presently, however, the loop was pushed back, showing that one must +have got his nose between it and the bank and so made a safe passage sideways. +A run that crossed the field was then selected, and the wire erected at about +the middle of it, equidistant from either hedge. Near the entrance of the +buries the rabbits moved slowly, sniffing their way along and pausing every +yard or so. But they often increased their speed farther away, and sometimes +raced from one mound to the other. When going at that rate it appeared natural +to conclude that they would be less careful to pick and choose their road. +</p> + +<p> +The theory proved so far correct that next day the upright was down, but the +wire had snapped and the rabbit was gone. The character of the fracture clearly +indicated how it had happened: the rabbit, so soon as he found his head in the +noose, had rolled and tumbled till the wire, already twisted tight, parted. Too +much twisting, therefore, weakened instead of strengthening. Next a single +wire, somewhat thicker, was used, and set up nearly in the same place; but it +broke again. +</p> + +<p> +Finally, two strands of medium size, placed side by side, but only twisted +once—that is, just enough to keep them together—were employed. The +lesser loop—the slip-knot, as it might be called—was at the same +time eased in order to run quicker and take a closer grip. Experiments with the +hand proved that this style of wire would bear a great strain, and immediately +answered to a sudden jerk. The running noose slipped the more easily because +the wires were smooth; when twisted the strands checked the noose, the friction +causing a slight sound. The wire itself seemed nearly perfect; but still no +rabbit was caught. +</p> + +<p> +Various runs were tried in succession; the size of the loop, too, was now +enlarged and now decreased; for once it seemed as if a rabbit’s ears had +struck it aside, and on another as if, the loop being too large or too low +down, one of the fore feet had entered and drawn it. Had it been the hind leg +the noose would have held, because of the crook of the leg; but the fore foot +came through, leaving the noose drawn up to a size not much larger than a +finger-ring. To decide the point accurately, a full-grown rabbit was shot, and +Orion held it in a position as near as possible to that taken in running, while +I adjusted the wire to fit exactly. Still no success. +</p> + +<p> +At last the secret was revealed by a hare. One day, walking up the lane with +the gun, and peeping over into the ploughed field, I saw a hare about sixty +yards away. The distance was too great to risk a shot, or rather it was +preferable to wait for the chance of his coming nearer. Stepping back gently +behind the bushes, I watched him run to and fro, gradually approaching in a +zig-zag line that must carry him right across in front. I was positive that he +had not seen me, and felt sure of bagging him; when suddenly—without any +apparent cause—up went his head, he glanced round, and was off like the +wind. +</p> + +<p> +Yet there had not been the faintest noise, and I could not understand it, till +all at once it occurred to me that it must be the scent. The slight, scarcely +perceptible, breeze blew in that direction: instantly he crossed the current +from me he detected it and fled. Afterwards I noticed that in the dusky +twilight, if the wind is behind him, a hare will run straight at you as if +about to deliberately charge your legs. This incident by the ploughed field +explained the failure of the wire. Every other care had been taken, but we had +forgotten to allow for the extreme delicacy of a wild animal’s sense of +smell. +</p> + +<p> +In walking to the spot selected for the snare it is best to avoid even stepping +on the run, and while setting it up to stand back as far as convenient and lean +forward. The grass that grows near must not be touched by the hand, which seems +to impart a very strong scent. The stick that has been carried in the hand must +not be allowed to fall across the run: and be careful that your handkerchief +does not drop out of your pocket on or near it. If a bunch of grass grows very +tall and requires parting, part it with the end (not the handle) of your stick. +</p> + +<p> +The same holds good with gins, especially if placed for a rat. Some persons +strew a little freshly plucked grass over the pan and teeth of the trap, +thinking to hide it; but it not only smells of the hand, but withers up and +turns brown, and acts as a warning to that wary creature. It is a better plan +if any dead leaves are lying near to turn them over and over with the end of a +twig till they fall on the trap, that is if they are dry: if wet (unless +actually raining at the time), should one chance to be left with the drier +under surface uppermost, the rat may pause on the brink. Now that the remotest +chance of leaving a scent was avoided the wire became a deadly instrument. +Almost every morning two or three rabbits were taken: we set up a dozen snares +when we had mastered the trick. They were found lying at full length in the +crisp white grass, for we often rose to visit the wires while yet the stars +were visible. Thus extended a person might have passed within a few yards and +never noticed them, unless he had an out-of-doors eye; for the whiter fur of +the belly as they lay aside was barely distinguishable from the hoar frost. The +blacksmith Ikey sauntered down the lane every evening, and glanced casually +behind the ash tree—the northern side of whose trunk was clothed with +dark green velvet-like moss—to see if a bag was lying for him there among +the nettles in the ditch. The rabbits were put in the bag, which was pushed +through the hedge. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap03"></a>CHAPTER III<br/> +TREE-SHOOTING: A FISHING EXPEDITION</h2> + +<p> +Just on the verge and borderland of the territory that could be ranged in +safety there grew a stunted oak in a mound beside the brook. Perhaps the roots +had been checked by the water; for the tree, instead of increasing in bulk, had +expended its vigour in branches so crooked that they appeared entangled in each +other. This oak was a favourite perching-place, because of its position: it +could also be more easily climbed than straight-grown timber, having many +boughs low down the trunk. With a gun it is difficult to ascend a smooth tree; +these boughs therefore were a great advantage. +</p> + +<p> +One warm afternoon late in the summer I got up into this oak; and took a seat +astride a large limb, with the main trunk behind like the back of a chair and +about twenty feet above the mound. Some lesser branches afforded a fork on +which the gun could be securely lodged, and a limb of considerable size came +across in front. Leaning both arms on this, a view could be obtained below and +on three sides easily and without effort. +</p> + +<p> +The mound immediately beneath was grown over with thick blackthorn, a species +of cover that gives great confidence to game. A kick or blow upon the bushes +with a stick will not move anything in an old blackthorn thicket. A man can +scarcely push through it: nothing but a dog can manage to get about. On the +meadow side there was no ditch, only a narrow fringe of tall pointed grass and +rushes, with one or two small furze bushes projecting out upon the sward. +Behind such bushes, on the slope of the mound, is rather a favourite place for +a rabbit to sit out, or a hare to have a form. +</p> + +<p> +The brook was shallow towards the hedge, and bordered with flags, among which +rose up one tall bunch of beautiful reeds. Some little way up the brook a pond +opened from it. At the entrance the bar of mud had hardly an inch of water; +within there was a clear small space, and the rest all weeds, with +moorhens’ tracks. The farther side of the pond was covered with bramble +bushes. It is a good plan to send the dogs into bushes growing on the banks of +ponds; for though rabbits dislike water itself they are fond of sitting out in +such cover near it. A low railing enclosed the side towards me: the posts had +slipped by the giving way of the soil, and hung over the still pool. +</p> + +<p> +One of the rails—of willow—was eaten out into hollow cavities by +the wasps, which came to it generation after generation for the materials of +their nests. The particles they detach are formed into a kind of paste or +paper: in time they will quite honeycomb a pole. The third side of the pond +shelved to the “leaze,” that the cattle might drink. From it a +narrow track went across the broad field up the rising ground to the distant +gateway leading to the meadows, where they grazed on the aftermath. Marching +day by day, one after the other in single file, to the drinking-place, the +hoofs of the herd had cut a clean path in the turf, two or three inches deep +and trodden hard. The reddish soil thus exposed marked the winding line athwart +the field, through the tussocky bunches. +</p> + +<p> +By the pond stood a low three-sided merestone or landmark, the initials on +which were hidden under moss. Up in the tree, near the gun, there was a dead +branch that had decayed in the curious manner that seems peculiar to oak. Where +it joined the trunk the bark still remained, though covered with lichen, and +for a foot or so out; then there was a long space where the bark and much of +the wood had mouldered away; finally, near the end the bough retained its +original size and the bark adhered. At the junction with the trunk and at the +extremity its diameter was perhaps three inches; in the middle rather less than +half as much. The grey central piece, larger and darker at either end, +suggested the thought of the bare neck of a vulture. +</p> + +<p> +Far away, just rising above the slope of the leaze, the distant tops of elms, +crowded with rooks’ nests (not then occupied), showed the site of the +residence of an old gentleman of whom at that time we stood in much fear. The +“Squire” of Southlands alarmed even the hardened carters’ +lads as much by the prestige of a singular character as by the chastisement he +personally gave those who ventured into his domain. Not a bird’s nest, +not a nut, must be touched: still less anything that could be called game. The +watch kept was so much the stricter because he took a personal part in it, and +was often round the fields himself armed with a great oak staff. It seemed, +indeed, as if the preservation of the game was of far greater importance to him +than the shooting of it afterwards. All the fowls of the air flocked to +Southlands, as if it had been a refuge; yet it was not a large estate. Into the +forest we had been, but Southlands was a mystery, a forbidden garden of +delight, with the terror of an oaken staff (and unknown penalties) turning this +way and that. Therefore the stunted old oak on the verge—the moss-grown +merestone by the pond marked the limit—was so favourite a perching-place. +</p> + +<p> +That beautiful afternoon I leaned both arms idly on the great bough that +crossed in front of the seat and listened to the “Caw—caw!” +of the rooks as they looked to see if the acorns were yet ripening. A dead +branch that had dropped partly into the brook was swayed continually up and +down by the current, the water as it chafed against it causing a delicious +murmur. This lulled me to sleep. +</p> + +<p> +I woke with a start, and had it not been for the bough crossing in front must +have fallen twenty feet. Looking down into the meadow as soon as my eyes were +thoroughly open, I instantly noticed a covey of young partridges a little way +up beside the hedge among the molehills. The neighbourhood of those hillocks +has an attraction for many birds, especially in winter. Then fieldfares, +redwings, starlings, and others prefer the meadows that are dotted with them. +In a frost if you see a thrush on a molehill it is very likely to thaw shortly. +Moles seem to feel the least change in the temperature of the earth; if it +slackens they begin to labour, and cast up, unwittingly, food for the thrushes. +</p> + +<p> +It would have been easy to kill three or four of the covey, which was a small +one, at a single shot; but it had been a late summer, and they were not +full-grown. Besides which, they roosted, I knew, about the middle of the +meadow, and to shoot them near the roost would be certain to break them up, and +perhaps drive them into Southlands. “Good poachers preserve their own +game:” so the birds fed safely, though a pot shot would not have seemed +the crime then that it would now. While I watched them suddenly the old bird +“quat,” and ran swiftly into the hedge, followed by the rest. A +kestrel was hovering in the next meadow: when the beat of his wings ceased he +slid forward and downwards, then rose and came over me in a bold curve. Well +those little brown birds in the blackthorn knew that, fierce as he was, he +dared not swoop even on a comparatively open bush, much less such thick covert, +for fear of ruffling his proud feathers and beating them out. Nor could he +follow them through the intricate hidden passages. +</p> + +<p> +In the open water of the pond a large jack was basking in the sunshine, just +beneath the surface; and though the shot would scatter somewhat before reaching +him, he was within range. If a fish lies a few inches under water he is quite +safe from shot unless the muzzle of the gun is so close that the pellets travel +together like a bullet. At a distance the shot is supposed to glance as it +strikes the water at an angle; for that reason the elevation of the tree was an +advantage, since from it the charge would plunge into the pool. A jack may be +killed in some depth of water when the gun is nearly perpendicularly above the +mark; but in any case the aim must be taken two inches or more, according to +circumstances, beneath the apparent position of the fish, to allow for +refraction. +</p> + +<p> +Sometimes the jack when hit comes to the surface belly upwards, but sometimes +keeps down or sinks, and floats a considerable distance away from the spot; so +that in the muddy water disturbed by the shot it is difficult to find him. If a +snake be shot at while swimming he will sometimes sink like a stone, and can be +seen lying motionless at the bottom. After we got hold of a small deer rifle we +used to practise at the snakes in the mere—aiming at the head, which is +about the size of a nut, and shows above the surface wobbling as they move. I +recollect cutting a snake’s head clean off with a ball from a pistol as +he hastened away through the grass. +</p> + +<p> +In winter, when the jacks came up and lay immediately under the ice, they could +be easily shot. The pellets cut a round hole through an inch and a half of ice. +The jack now basking in the pond was the more tempting because we had often +tried to wire him in vain. The difficulty was to get him if hit. While I was +deliberating a crow came flying low down the leaze, and alighted by the pond. +His object, no doubt, was a mussel. He could not have seen me, and yet no +sooner did he touch the ground than he looked uneasily about, sprang up, and +flew straight away, as if he had smelt danger. Had he stayed he would have been +shot, though it would have spoiled my ambush: the idea of the crows picking out +the eyes of dying creatures was always peculiarly revolting to me. +</p> + +<p> +If the pond was a haunt of his, it was too near the young partridges, which +were weakly that season. A kestrel is harmless compared to a crow. Surely the +translators have wrongly rendered Don Quixote’s remark that the English +did not kill crows, believing that King Arthur, instead of dying, was by +enchantment turned into one, and so fearing to injure the hero. Must he not +have meant a rook?* +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[Note: It has since been pointed out to me that the Don may have meant a raven] +</p> + +<p> +Soon afterwards something moved out of the mound into the meadow a long +distance up: it was a hare. He came slowly along beside the hedge towards +me—now stopping and looking into it as if seeking a convenient place for +a form, having doubtless been disturbed from that he had first chosen. It was +some minutes before he came within range: had I been on the ground most likely +he would have scented me, the light air going that way; but being in the tree +the wind that passed went high over him. For this reason a tree ambush is +deadly. It was necessary to get the line of sight clear of twigs, which check +and divert shot, and to take a steady aim; for I had no second barrel, no dog, +and had to descend the tree before running. Some leaves were blackened by the +flame: the hare simply fell back, stretched his hind legs, quivered, and lay +still. Part of the leaf of a plant was fixed in his teeth; he had just had a +nibble. +</p> + +<p> +With this success I was satisfied that day; but the old oak was always a +favourite resort, even when nothing particular was in hand. From thence, too, +as a base of operations, we made expeditions varying in their object with the +season of the year. +</p> + +<p> +Some distance beyond the stunted oak the thick blackthorn hedge was succeeded +by a continuous strip of withy-bed bordering the brook. It often occurred to us +that by entering these withies it would be possible to reconnoitre one side of +Southlands; for the stream skirted the lower grounds: the tall willows would +conceal any one passing through them. So one spring morning the attempt was +made. +</p> + +<p> +It was necessary to go on hands and knees through the mowing grass for some +yards while passing an open space where the blackthorn cover ended, and then to +leap a broad ditch that divided the withy-beds from the meadow. The lissom +willow wands parted easily and sprang back to their places behind, leaving +scarce a trace. Their slender tops rose overhead; beneath, long dead grasses, +not yet quite supplanted by the spring growth, filled the space between. These +rustled a little under foot, but so faint a sound could scarcely have been +audible outside; and had any one noticed it it would have been attributed to a +hare or a fox moving: both are fond of lying in withy-beds when the ground is +dry. +</p> + +<p> +The way to walk noiselessly is to feel with the foot before letting your weight +press on it; then the dead stick or fallen hemlock is discovered and avoided. A +dead stick cracks; the dry hollow hemlock gives a splintering sound when +crushed. These old hemlock stems were numerous in places, together with +“gicksies,” as the haymakers call a plant that resembles it, but +has a ribbed or fluted instead of a smooth stalk. The lads use a long +“gicks” cut between the joints as a tube to blow haws or peggles at +the girls. When thirsty, and no ale is handy, the men search for one to suck up +water with from the brook. It is difficult to find one free from insects, which +seem to be remarkably fond of anything hollow. The haymakers do not use the +hemlock, thinking it would poison the water; they think, too, that drinking +through a tube is safer when they are in a great heat from the sun than any +other way. +</p> + +<p> +Nor is it so easy to drink from a stream without this simple aid. If the bank +be flat it is wet, and what looks like the grass of the meadow really grows out +of the water; so that there it is not possible to be at full length. If the +bank be dry the level of the water is several inches lower, and in endeavouring +to drink the forehead is immersed; often the water is so much lower than its +banks that it is quite impossible to drink from it lying. By the edge grasses, +water-plantains, forget-me-nots, frequently fill the space within reach. If you +brush these aside it disturbs the bottom, and the mud rises, or a patch of +brown “scum” comes up and floats away. A cup, though gently used, +generally draws some insects in with the water, though the liquid itself be +pure. Lapping with the hollowed palm requires practice, and, unless the spot be +free from weeds and of some little depth, soon disturbs the bottom. But the +tube can be inserted in the smallest clear place, and interferes with nothing. +</p> + +<p> +Each of us carried a long hazel rod, and the handle of a “squailer” +projected from Orion’s coat-pocket. For making a “squailer” a +teacup was the best mould: the cups then in use in the country were rather +larger than those at present in fashion. A ground ash sapling with the bark on, +about as thick as the little finger, pliant and tough, formed the shaft, which +was about fifteen inches long. This was held upright in the middle of a teacup, +while the mould was filled with molten lead. It soon cooled, and left a heavy +conical knob on the end of the stick. If rightly thrown it was a deadly +missile, and would fly almost as true as a rifle ball. A rabbit or leveret +could thus be knocked over; and it was peculiarly adapted for fetching a +squirrel out of a tree, because, being so heavy at one end, it rarely lodged on +the boughs, as an ordinary stick would, but overbalanced and came down. +</p> + +<p> +From the outlook of the oak some aspen trees could be seen far up in the +withy-beds; and it had been agreed that there the first essay of the stream +should be made. On arriving at these trees we paused, and began to fix the +wires on the hazel rods. The wire for fish must slip very easily, and the +thinner it is, if strong enough, the better, because it takes a firmer grip. A +single wire will do; but two thin ones are preferable. Thin copper wire is as +flexible as thread. Brass wire is not so good; it is stiffer, and too +conspicuous in the water. +</p> + +<p> +At the shank end a stout string is attached in the middle of its length. Then +the wire is placed against the rod, lying flat upon it for about six inches. +The strings are now wound round tightly in opposite directions, binding it to +the stick, so that at the top the ends cross and are in position to tie in the +slight notch cut for the purpose. A loop that will allow four fingers to enter +together is about large enough, though of course it must be varied according to +the size of the jack in view. Heavy jacks are not often wired, and scarcely +ever in brooks. +</p> + +<p> +For jack the shape of the loop should be circular; for trout it should be oval, +and considerably larger in proportion to the apparent bulk of the fish. Jack +are straight-grown and do not thicken much in the middle; with trout it is +different. The noose should be about six inches from the top of the rod. Orion +said he would go twenty yards farther up; I went direct from the centre of the +withy-bed to the stream. +</p> + +<p> +The bank rose a little above the level of the withy-bed; it was a broad mound +full of ash stoles and willow—the sort that is grown for poles. At that +spot the vines of wild hops had killed all the underwood, leaving open spaces +between the stoles; the vines were matted so thickly that they hid the ground. +This was too exposed a place, so I went back and farther up till I could just +hear Orion rustling through the hemlocks. Here the dead grass and some elder +bushes afforded shelter, and the water could be approached unseen. +</p> + +<p> +It was about six or eight inches deep; the opposite shore was bordered for +several yards out with flags and rushes. The cattle nibbled their tender tops +off, as far as they could reach; farther out they were pushing up straight and +pointed. The rib and groove of the flag so closely resemble those of the +ancient bayonet that it might be supposed the weapon was modelled from the +plant. Indoors among the lumber there was a rusty old bayonet that immediately +called forth the comparison: the modern make seem more triangular. +</p> + +<p> +The rushes grew nearer the shore of the meadow—the old ones yellow, the +young green: in places this fringe of rush and sedge and flag must have been +five or six yards wide, and it extended as far as could be seen up the brook. +No doubt the cattle trod in the edge of the firm ground by degrees every year +to get at the water, and thus widened the marsh. It was easy to understand now +why all the water-fowl, teal and duck, moorhen and snipe, seemed in winter to +make in this direction. +</p> + +<p> +The ducks especially exercised all our ingenuity and quite exhausted our +patience in the effort to get near them in winter. In the large water-meadows a +small flock sometimes remained all day: it was possible to approach near enough +by stalking behind the hedges to see the colour of the mallards; but they were +always out of gunshot. This place must be full of teal then; as for moorhens, +there were signs of them everywhere, and several feeding in the grass. The +thought of the sport to be got here when the frosty days came was enough to +make one wild. +</p> + +<p> +After a long look across, I began to examine the stream near at hand: the +rushes and flags had forced the clear sweet current away from the meadow, so +that it ran just under the bank. I was making out the brown sticks at the +bottom, when there was a slight splash—caused by Orion about ten yards +farther up—and almost at the same instant something shot down the brook +towards me. He had doubtless landed a jack, and its fellow rushed away. Under a +large dead bough that had fallen across its top in the stream I saw the long +slender fish lying a few feet from the bank, motionless save for the gentle +curving wave of the tail edges. So faint was that waving curl that it seemed +caused rather by the flow of the current than the volition of the fish. The +wings of the swallow work the whole of the longest summer day, but the fins of +the fish in running water are never still: day and night they move +continuously. +</p> + +<p> +By slow degrees I advanced the hazel rod, keeping it at first near to and +parallel with the bank, because jack do not like anything that stretches across +them; and I imagine other fish have the same dislike to right angles. The +straight shadow even seems to arouse suspicion—no boughs are ever +straight. Perhaps, if it were possible to angle without a rod, there would be +more success, particularly in small streams. But after getting the stick almost +out far enough, it became evident that the dead branch would not let me slip +the wire into the water in front of the jack in the usual way. So I had to draw +it back again as gradually as it had been put forth. +</p> + +<p> +With fish everything must be done gradually and without a jerk. A sudden +jerking movement immediately alarms them. If you walk gently by they remain +still, but start or lift the arm quickly and they dart for deep water. The +object of withdrawing the rod was to get at and enlarge the loop in order that +it might be slipped over his tail, since the head was protected by the bough. +It is a more delicate operation to pass the wire up from behind; it has to go +farther before the spot that allows a firm grip is reached, and fish are well +aware that natural objects such as twigs float down with the current. Anything, +therefore, approaching from behind or rubbing upwards is suspicious. As this +fish had just been startled, it would not do to let the wire touch him at all. +</p> + +<p> +After enlarging the loop I put the rod slowly forth again, worked the wire up +stream, slipped the noose over his tail, and gently got it up to the balance of +the fish. Waiting a moment to get the elbow over the end of the rod so as to +have a good leverage, I gave a sudden jerk upwards, and felt the weight +instantly. But the top of the rod struck the overhanging bough, and there was +my fish, hung indeed, but still in the water near the surface. Nor could I +throw it on the bank, because of the elder bushes. So I shortened the rod, +pulling it in towards me quickly and dragging the jack through the water. The +pliant wire had cut into the scales and skin—he might have been safely +left suspended over the stream all day; but in the eagerness of the moment I +was not satisfied till I had him up on the mound. +</p> + +<p> +We did not see much of Southlands, because the withy-beds were on the lowest +ground; but there were six jacks strung on a twisted withy when we got back to +the stunted oak and rested there tasting acid sorrel leaves. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap04"></a>CHAPTER IV<br/> +EGG-TIME. A “GIP”-TRAP</h2> + +<p> +There is no sweeter time in the woods than just before the nesting begins in +earnest. Is it the rising sap that causes a pleasant odour to emanate from +every green thing? Idling along the hedgerows towards the woodlands there may +perchance be seen small tufts of white rabbit’s fur in the grass, torn +from herself by the doe to form a warm lining to the hole in which her litter +will appear: a “sign” this that often guides a robber to her nest. +</p> + +<p> +Yonder on the rising ground, towering even in their fall over the low (lately +cut) ash plantation, lie the giant limbs of the mighty oaks, thrown just as +they felt the quickening heat. The bark has been stripped from the trunk and +branches; the sun has turned the exposed surface to a deep buff colour, which +contrasts with the fresh green of the underwood around and renders them visible +afar. +</p> + +<p> +When the oak first puts forth its buds the woods take a ruddy tint. Gradually +the background of green comes to the front, and the oak-apples swell, streaked +with rosy stains, whence their semblance to the edible fruit of the orchard. +All unconscious of the white or red cross daubed on the rough bark, the tree +prepares its glory of leaf, though doomed the while by that sad mark to the +axe. +</p> + +<p> +Cutting away the bushes with his billhook, the woodman next swings the cumbrous +grub-axe, whose wide edge clears the earth from the larger roots. Then he puts +his pipe in his pocket, and settles to the serious work of the “great +axe,” as he calls it. I never could use this ungainly tool aright: a +top-heavy, clumsy, awkward thing, it rules you instead of you ruling it. The +handle, too, is flat—almost with an edge itself sometimes—and is +quite beyond the grasp of any but hands of iron. Now the American axe feels +balanced like a sword; this is because of the peculiar curve of the handle. To +strike you stand with the left foot slightly forward, and the left hand +uppermost: the “S” curve (it is of course not nearly so crooked as +the letter) of the American axe adjusts itself to the anatomy of the attitude, +so to speak. +</p> + +<p> +The straight English handle does not; it is stiff, and strains the muscles; but +the common “great axe” has the advantage that it is also used for +splitting logs and gnarled “butts.” An American axe is too +beautiful a tool for that rude work. The American was designed to strike at the +trunk of the tree several feet from the ground, the English axe is always +directed to the great roots at the base. +</p> + +<p> +A dexterous woodman can swing his tool alternately left hand or right hand +uppermost. The difference looks trifling; but try it, and you will be +astonished at the difficulty. The blows echo and the chips fly, till the base +of the tree, that naturally is much larger, is reduced to the size of the trunk +or less. Now a pause, while one swarms up to “line” +it—<i>i.e.</i> to attach a rope as high as possible to guide the +“stick” in its fall. +</p> + +<p> +It is commonly said that in climbing it is best to look up—a maxim that +has been used for moral illustrations; but it is a mistake. In ascending a tree +you should never look higher than the brim of your hat, unless when quite still +and resting on a branch; temporary blindness would be the penalty in this case. +Particles of decayed bark, the borings of insects in dead wood, dust, and +fragments of twigs, rush down in little streams and fill the eyes. The quantity +of woody powder that adheres to a tree is surprising; every motion dislodges it +from a thousand minute crevices. As for firs, in climbing a fir one cannot look +up at all—dead sticks, needles, and dust pour down, and the branches are +so thick together that the head has to be forced through them. The line fixed, +the saw is applied, and by slow degrees the butt cut nearly through. Unless +much overbalanced on one side by the limbs, an oak will stand on a still day +when almost off. +</p> + +<p> +Some now seize the rope, and alternately pull and slacken, which gives the tree +a tottering movement. One more daring than the rest drives a wedge into the +saw-cut as it opens when the tree sways. It sways—it staggers; a loud +crack as the fibres part, then with a slow heave over it goes, and, descending, +twists upon the base. The vast limbs plough into the sward; the twigs are +crushed; the boughs, after striking the earth, rebound and swish upwards. See +that you stand clear, for the least branch will thresh you down. The flat +surface of the exposed butt is blue with stains from the steel of the saw. +</p> + +<p> +Light taps with a small sharp axe, that cut the rind but no deeper, ring the +trunk at intervals. Then the barking irons are inserted; they are rods of iron +forged at the top something like a narrow shallow spoon. The bark from the +trunk comes off in huge semi-cylinders almost large enough for a canoe. But +that from the branches is best. You may mark how at the base the bark is two +inches thick, lessening to a few lines on the topmost boughs. If it sticks a +little, hammer it with the iron: it peels with a peculiar sound, and the juicy +sap glistens white between. It is this that, drying in the sun, gives the +barked tree its colour: in time the wood bleaches paler, and after a winter +becomes grey. Inside, the bark is white streaked with brown; presently it will +be all brown. While some strip it, others collect the pieces, and with them +build toy-like sheds of bark, which is the manner of stacking it. +</p> + +<p> +From the peeled tree there rises a sweet odour of sap: the green mead, the +green underwood and hawthorn around, are all lit up with the genial sunbeams. +The beautiful wind-anemones are gone, too tender and lovely for so rude an +earth; but the wild hyacinths droop their blue bells under the wood, and the +cowslips rise in the grass. The nightingale sings without ceasing; the soft +“coo-coo” of the dove sounds hard by; the merry cuckoo calls as he +flies from elm to elm; the wood-pigeons rise and smite their wings together +over the firs. In the mere below the coots are at play; they chase each other +along the surface of the water and indulge in wild evolutions. Everything is +happy. As the plough-boys stroll along they pluck the young succulent hawthorn +leaves and nibble them. +</p> + +<p> +It is the sweetest time of all for wandering in the wood. The brambles have not +yet grown so bushy as to check the passage; the thistles that in autumn will be +as tall as the shoulder and thick as a walking-stick are as yet no bar; burrs +do not attach themselves at every step, though the broad burdock leaves are +spreading wide. In its full development the burdock is almost a shrub rather +than a plant, with a woody stem an inch or more in diameter. +</p> + +<p> +Up in the fir trees the nests of the pigeons are sometimes so big that it +appears as if they must use the same year after year, adding fresh twigs, else +they could hardly attain such bulk. Those in the ash-poles are not nearly so +large. In the open drives blue cartridge-cases lie among the grass, the brass +part tarnished by the rain, thrown hurriedly aside from the smoking breech last +autumn. But the guns are silent in the racks, though the keeper still carries +his gun to shoot the vermin, which are extremely busy at this season. Vermin, +however, do not quite agree among themselves: weasels and stoats are deadly +enemies of mice and rats. Where rats are plentiful there they are sure to come; +they will follow a rat into a dwelling-house. +</p> + +<p> +Here the green drive shows traces of the poaching it received from the +thick-planted hoofs of the hunt when the leaves were off and the blast of the +horn sounded fitfully as the gale carried the sound away. The vixen is now at +peace, though perhaps it would scarcely be safe to wander too near the +close-shaven mead where the keeper is occupied more and more every day with his +pheasant-hatching. And far down on the lonely outlying farms, where even in +fox-hunting England the music of the hounds is hardly heard in three years +(because no great coverts cause the run to take that way), foul murder is +sometimes done on Reynard or his family. A hedge-cutter marks the +sleeping-place in the withies where the fox curls up by day; and with his rusty +gun, that sometimes slaughters a roaming pheasant, sends the shot through the +red side of the slumbering animal. Then, thrust ignobly into a sack, he +shoulders the fox and marches round from door to door, tumbling the limp body +rudely down on the pitching stones to prove that the fowls will now be safe, +and to be rewarded with beer and small coin. A dead fox is profit to him for a +fortnight. These evil deeds of course are cloaked as far as possible. +</p> + +<p> +Leaving now the wood for the lane that wanders through the meadows, a mower +comes sidling up, and, looking mysteriously around with his hand behind under +his coat, “You med have un for sixpence,” he says, and produces a +partridge into whose body the point of the scythe ran as she sat on her nest in +the grass, and whose struggles were ended by a blow from the rubber or +whetstone flung at her head. He has got the eggs somewhere hidden under a +swathe. +</p> + +<p> +The men that are so expert at finding partridges’ eggs to sell to the +keepers know well beforehand whereabouts the birds are likely to lay. If a +stranger who had made no previous observations went into the fields to find +these eggs, with full permission to do so, he would probably wander in vain. +The grass is long, and the nest has little to distinguish it from the ground; +the old bird will sit so close that one may pass almost over her. Without a +right of search in open daylight the difficulty is of course much greater. A +man cannot quarter the fields when the crop is high and leave no trail. +</p> + +<p> +Farmers object to the trampling and damage of their property; and a keeper does +not like to see a labourer loafing about, because he is not certain that the +eggs when found will be conscientiously delivered to him. They may be taken +elsewhere, or they may even be broken out of spite if the finder thinks he has +a grudge to repay. Now that every field is enclosed, and for the most part well +cultivated and looked after, the business of the egg-stealer is considerably +diminished. He cannot roam over the country at his fancy; his egg-finding is +nearly restricted to the locality of which he possesses minute knowledge. +</p> + +<p> +Thus workmen engaged in the towns, but sleeping several miles out in the +villages, can keep a register of the slight indications they observe morning +after morning as they cross the fields by the footpath to their labour. Early +in the spring they notice that the partridges have paired: as time advances +they see the pair day after day in the same meadow, and mark the spot. Those +who work in the fields, again, have still better opportunities: the +bird-keeping lads too have little else to do at that season than watch for +nests. In the meadows the labourer as he walks to and fro with the +“bush” passes over every inch of the ground. The “bush” +is a mass of thorn bushes fixed in a frame and drawn by a horse; it acts like a +light harrow, and leaves the meadow in strips like the pile of green velvet, +stroked in narrow bands, one this way, one that, laying the grass blades in the +directions it travels. Solitary work of this kind—for it requires but one +man—is very favourable to observation. When the proper time arrives the +searcher knows within a little where the nest must be, and has but a small +space to beat. +</p> + +<p> +The pheasant being so large a bird, its motions are easy to watch; and the nest +is speedily found, because, being in the hedge or under bushes, there is a +definite place in which to look, instead of the broad surface of the field. +Pheasants will get out of the preserves in the breeding season and wander into +the mounds, so that the space the keeper has to range is then enlarged +threefold. Both pheasants and partridges are frequently killed on their nests; +when the eggs are hard the birds remain to the last moment, and are often +knocked over. +</p> + +<p> +Besides poachers, the eggs have to run the chance of being destroyed by carrion +crows, and occasionally by rooks. Rooks, though generally cleanly feeders, will +at times eat almost anything, from a mussel to a fledgeling bird. Magpies and +jays are accused of being equally dangerous enemies of eggs and young birds, +and so too are snakes. Weasels, stoats, and rats spare neither egg, parents, +nor offspring. Some of the dogs that run wild will devour eggs; and hawks +pounce on the brood if they see an opportunity. Owls are said to do the same. +The fitchew, the badger, and the hedgehog have a similarly evil reputation; but +the first is rare, the second almost exterminated in many districts; the +third—the poor hedgehog—is common, and some keepers have a bitter +dislike to them. Swine are credited, with the same mischief as the worst of +vermin at this particular season; but nowadays swine are not allowed to run +wild in cultivated districts, except in the autumn when the acorns are falling. +</p> + +<p> +As the nests are on the ground they are peculiarly accessible, and the eggs, +being large, are tempting. Perhaps the mowing machine is as destructive as +anything; and after all these there is the risk of a wet season and of disease. +Let the care exercised be never so great, a certain amount of mortality must +occur. +</p> + +<p> +While the young partridges gradually become strong and swift, the nuts are +increasing in size, and ripening upon the bough. The very hazel has a pleasant +sound—not a nut-tree hedge existed in the neighbourhood that we did not +know and visit. We noted the progress of the bushes from the earliest spring, +and the catkins to the perfect nut. +</p> + +<p> +There are threads of brilliant scarlet upon the hazel in February, though the +gloom of winter lingers and the “Shuck—a—sheck!” of the +fieldfare fleeing before the snow sounds overhead. On the slender branches grow +green ovals, from whose tips tiny scarlet plumes rise and curl over. +</p> + +<p> +It often happens that while the tall rods with speckled bark grow vigorously +the stole is hollow and decaying when the hardy fern flourishes around it. +Before the summer ricks are all carted the nuts are full of sweet milky matter, +and the shell begins to harden. A hazel bough with a good crook is then sought +by the men that are thinking of the wheat harvest: they trim it for a +“vagging” stick, with which to pull the straw towards them. True +reaping is now never seen: “vagging” makes the short stubble that +forces the partridges into the turnips. Maple boughs, whose bark is so strongly +ribbed, are also good for “vagging” sticks. +</p> + +<p> +Nut-tree is used for bonds to tie up faggots, and split for the +shepherds’ hurdles. In winter sometimes a store of nuts and acorns may be +seen fallen in a stream down the side of a bank, scratched out from a +mouse’s hole, as they say, by Reynard, who devours the little provident +creature without regard for its wisdom. So that man and wild animals derive +pleasure or use from the hazel in many ways. When the nuts are ripe the +carters’ lads do not care to ride sideways on the broad backs of the +horses as they jog homewards along the lane, but are ever in the hedges. +</p> + +<p> +There were plenty in the double-mounds to which we had access; but the +shepherd, who had learned his craft on the Downs, said that the nuts grew there +in such immense quantities as determined us to see them. Sitting on the felled +ash under the shade of the hawthorn hedge, where the butcher-birds every year +used to stick the humble-bees on the thorns, he described the route—a +mere waggon track—and the situation of the largest copses. +</p> + +<p> +The waggon track we found crossed the elevated plains close under and between +the Downs, following at the foot, as it seemed, for an endless distance the +curve of a range. The slope bounded the track on one side: on the other it was +enclosed by a low bank covered with dead thorn thickly entangled, which +enclosed the cornfields. The space between the hedge and the hill was as far as +we could throw one of the bleached flints lying on the sward. It was dotted +with hawthorn trees and furze, and full of dry brown grass. A few scattered +firs, the remnants of extinct plantations, grew on the slope, and green +“fairy rings” marked it here and there. +</p> + +<p> +These fairy rings have a somewhat different appearance from the dark green +semicircles found in the meadows and called by the same name: the latter are +often only segments of circles, are found near hedges, and almost always either +under a tree or where a tree has been. There were more mushrooms on the side of +the hill than we cared to carry. Some eat mushrooms raw—fresh as taken +from the ground, with a little salt: to me the taste is then too strong. Of the +many ways of cooking them the simplest is the best; that is, on a gridiron over +wood embers on the hearth. +</p> + +<p> +Every few minutes a hare started out of the dry grass: he always scampered up +the Down and stopped to look at us from the ridge. The hare runs faster up hill +than down. By the cornfields there were wire nettings to stop them; but nothing +is easier than for any passer-by who feels an interest in hares and rabbits, +and does not like to see them jealously excluded, to open a gap. Hares were +very numerous—temptingly so. Not far from where the track crossed a +lonely road was a gipsy encampment; that swarthy people are ever about when +anything is going on, and the reapers were busy in the corn. The dead dry +thorns of the hedge answered very well to boil their pot with. Their tents, +formed by thrusting the ends of long bent rods like half-hoops into the turf, +looked dark like the canvas of a barge. +</p> + +<p> +These “gips”—country folk do not say gipsy—were unknown +to us; but we were on terms with some members of a tribe who called at our +house several times in the course of the year to buy willow. The men wore +golden earrings, and bought “Black Sally,” a withy that has a dark +bark, for pegs, and “bolts” of osier for basket-making. A bolt is a +bundle of forty inches in circumference. Though the women tell fortunes, and +mix the “dark man” and the “light man,” the +“journey” and the “letter” to perfection, till the +ladies half believe, I doubt if they know much of true palmistry. The magic of +the past always had a charm for me. I had learned to know the lines, from that +which winds along at the base of the thumb-ball and if clear means health and +long life, to that which crosses close to the fingers and indicates the course +of love, and had traced them on many a delicate palm. So that the +“gips” could tell me nothing new. +</p> + +<p> +The women are the hardiest in the country; they simply ignore the weather. Even +the hedgers and ditchers and the sturdiest labourers choose the lee side of the +hedge when they pause to eat their luncheons; but the “gips” do not +trouble to seek such shelter. Passing over the hills one winter’s day, +when the Downs looked all alike, being covered with snow, I came across a +“gip” family sitting on the ground in a lane, old and young exposed +to the blast. In that there was nothing remarkable, but I recollect it because +the young mother, handsome in the style of her race, had her neck and brown +bust quite bare, and the white snowflakes drove thickly aslant upon her. Their +complexion looks more dusky in winter, so that the contrast of the colours made +me wish for an artist to paint it. And he might have put the grey embers of a +fire gone out, and the twisted stem of a hawthorn bush with red haws above. +</p> + +<p> +A mile beyond the gipsy tents we entered among the copses: scattered ash +plantations, and hazel thickets with narrow green tracks between. Further in, +the nut-tree bushes were more numerous, and we became separated though within +call. Presently a low whistle like the peewit’s (our signal) called me to +Orion. On the border of a thicket, near an open field of swedes, he had found a +hare in a wire. It was a beauty—the soft fur smooth to stroke, not so +much as a shot-hole in the black-marked ears. Wired or netted hares and rabbits +are much preferred by the dealers to those that have been shot—and so, +too, netted partridges—because they look so clean and tempt the +purchaser. The blacksmith Ikey, who bought our rabbits, used to sew up the shot +wounds when they were much knocked about, and trimmed up the shattered ones in +the cleverest way. +</p> + +<p> +To pull up the plug and take wire and hare too was the first impulse; yet we +hesitated. Why did the man who set the snare let his game lie till that hour of +the day? He should have visited it long before: it had a suspicious look +altogether. It would also have been nearly impossible to carry the hare so many +miles by daylight and past villages: even with the largest pockets it would +have been doubtful, for the hare had stiffened as he lay stretched out. So, +carefully replacing him just as we found him, we left the spot and re-entered +the copse. +</p> + +<p> +The shepherd certainly was right; the quantity of nuts was immense: the best +and largest bunches grew at the edge of the thickets, perhaps because they +received more air and light than the bushes within that were surrounded by +boughs. It thus happened that we were in the green pathway when some one +suddenly spoke from behind, and, turning, there was a man in a velveteen jacket +who had just stepped out of the bushes. The keeper was pleasant enough and +readily allowed us to handle his gun—a very good weapon, though a little +thin at the muzzle—for a man likes to see his gun admired. He said there +were finer nuts in a valley he pointed out, and then carefully instructed us +how to get back into the waggon track without returning by the same path. An +old barn was the landmark; and, with a request from him not to break the +bushes, he left us. +</p> + +<p> +Down in the wooded vale we paused. The whole thing was now clear: the hare in +the wire was a trap laid for the “gips” whose camp was below. The +keeper had been waiting about doubtless where he could command the various +tracks up the hill, had seen us come that way, and did not wish us to return in +the same direction; because if the “gip” saw any one at all he +would not approach his snare. Whether the hare had actually been caught by the +wire, or had been put in by the keeper, it was not easy to tell. +</p> + +<p> +We wandered on in the valley wood, going from bush to bush, little heeding +whither we went. There are no woods so silent as the nut-tree; there is scarce +a sound in them at that time except the occasional rustle of a rabbit, and the +“thump, thump” they sometimes make underground in their buries +after a sudden fright. So that the keen plaintive whistle of a kingfisher was +almost startling. But we soon found the stream in the hollow. Broader than a +brook and yet not quite a river, it flowed swift and clear, so that every flint +at the bottom was visible. The nut-tree bushes came down to the edge: the +ground was too firm for much rush or sedge; the streams that come out of the +chalk are not so thickly fringed with vegetation as others. +</p> + +<p> +Some little way along there was a rounded sarsen boulder not far from shore, +whose brown top was so nearly on a level with the surface that at one moment +the water just covered it, and the next left it exposed. By it we spied a +trout; but the hill above gave “Velvet” the command of the hollow; +and it was too risky even to think of. After that the nuts were tame; there was +nothing left but to turn homewards. As for trout-fishing, there is nothing so +easy. Take the top joint off the rod, and put the wire on the second, which is +stronger, fill the basket, and replace the fly. There were fellows who used to +paddle in canoes up a certain river (not this little stream), pick out the +largest trout, and shoot them with pistols, under pretence of practising at +water-rats. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap05"></a>CHAPTER V<br/> +WOODLAND TWILIGHT: TRAITORS ON THE GIBBET</h2> + +<p> +In a hedge that joined a wood, and about a hundred yards from it, there was a +pleasant hiding-place beside a pollard ash. The bank was hollow with +rabbit-buries: the summer heat had hardened the clay of the mound and caused it +to crack and crumble wherever their excavations left a precipitous edge. Some +way up the trunk of the tree an immense flat fungus projected, roughly +resembling the protruding lip of a savage enlarged by the insertion of a piece +of wood. It formed a black ledge standing out seven or eight inches, two or +three inches thick, and extending for a foot or more round the bark. The +pollard, indeed, was dead inside, and near the ground the black touch-wood +showed. Ash timber must become rarer year by year: for, being so useful, it is +constantly cut down, while few new saplings are planted or encouraged to become +trees. +</p> + +<p> +In front a tangled mass of bramble arched over the dry ditch; it was possible +to see some distance down the bank, for nothing grew on the top itself, the +bushes all rising from either side—a peculiarity of clay mounds. This +narrow space was a favourite promenade of the rabbits; they usually came out +there for a few minutes first, looking about before venturing forth into the +meadows. Except a little moss, scarcely any vegetation other than underwood +clothed the bare hard soil of the mound; and for this reason every tiny +aperture that suited their purpose was occupied by wasps. +</p> + +<p> +They much prefer a clear space about the entrance to their nests, affording an +unencumbered passage: there were two nests within a few yards of the ash. +Though so generally dreaded, wasps are really inoffensive insects, never +attacking unless previously buffeted. You may sit close to a wasps’ nest +for hours, and, if you keep still, receive no injury. Humble-bees, too, +congregate in special localities: along one hedge half a dozen nests may be +found, while other fields are searched for them in vain. +</p> + +<p> +The best time to enter such a hiding-place is a little before the sun sinks: +for as his beams turn red all the creatures that rest during the day begin to +stir. Then the hares start down from the uplands and appear on the short +stubble, where the level rays throw exaggerated shadows behind them. When six +or eight hares are thus seen near the centre of a single field, they and their +shadows seem to take possession of and occupy it. +</p> + +<p> +Pheasants, though they retire to roost on the trees, often before rising come +forth into the meadows adjacent to the coverts. The sward in front of the +pollard ash sloped upwards gradually to the foot of a low hill planted with +firs, and just outside these about half a dozen pheasants regularly appeared in +the early evening. As the sun sank below the hill, and the shadow of the great +beeches some distance away began to extend into the mead, they went back one by +one into the firs. There they were nearly safe, for no trees give so much +difficulty to the poacher. It is not easy even to shoot anything inside a fir +plantation at night: as for the noose, it is almost impossible to use it. The +lowest pheasant is taken first, and then the next above, like fowls perched on +the rungs of a ladder; and, indeed, it is not unlikely that those who excel in +this kind of work base their operations upon previous experiences in the hen +roost. +</p> + +<p> +The wood pigeons begin to come home, and the wood is filled with their hollow +notes: now here, now yonder, for as one ceases another takes it up. They cannot +settle for some time: each as he arrives perches awhile, and then rises and +tries a fresh place, so that there is a constant clattering. The green +woodpecker approaches at a rapid pace—now opening, now closing his wings, +and seeming to throw himself forward rather than to fly. He rushes at the trees +in the hedge as though he could pierce the thick branches like a bullet. Other +birds rise over or pass at the side: he goes through, arrow-like, avoiding the +boughs. Instead of at once entering the wood, he stays awhile on the sward of +the mead in the open. +</p> + +<p> +As the pheasants generally feed in a straight line along the ground, so the +lesser pied woodpecker travels across the fields from tree to tree, rarely +staying on more than one branch in each, but, after examining it, leaves all +that may be on other boughs and seeks another ahead. He rises round and round +the dead branch in the elm, tapping it with blows that succeed each other with +marvellous rapidity. He taps for the purpose of sounding the wood to see if it +be hollow or bored by grubs, and to startle the insects and make them run out +for his convenience. He will ascend dead branches barely half an inch thick +that vibrate as he springs from them, and proceeds down the hedge towards the +wood. The “snop-top” sounds in every elm, and grows fainter as he +recedes. The sound is often heard, but in the thick foliage of summer the bird +escapes unseen, unless you are sitting almost under the tree when he arrives in +it. +</p> + +<p> +Then the rooks come drifting slowly to the beeches: they are uncertain in their +hour at this season—some, indeed, scarce care to return at all; and even +when quite dusk and the faint stars of summer rather show themselves than +shine, twos and threes come occasionally through the gloom. A pair of doves +pass swiftly, flying for the lower wood, where the ashpoles grow. The +grasshoppers sing in the grass, and will continue till the dew descends. As the +little bats flutter swiftly to and fro just without the hedge, the faint sound +of their wings is audible as they turn: their membranes are not so silent as +feathers, and they agitate them with extreme velocity. Beetles go by with a +loud hum, rising from those isolated bunches of grass that may be seen in every +field; for the cows will not eat the rank green blades that grow over and hide +dried dung. +</p> + +<p> +A large white spot, ill-defined and shapeless in the distance and the dimness, +glides along the edge of the wood, then across in front before the fir +plantation, next down the hedge to the left, and presently passes within two +yards, going towards the wood again along this mound. It is a white owl: he +flies about five feet from the ground and absolutely without a sound. So when +you are walking at night it is quite startling to have one come overhead, +approaching from behind and suddenly appearing. This owl is almost fearless; +unless purposely alarmed he will scarcely notice you, and not at all if you are +still. +</p> + +<p> +As he reaches the wood he leaves the hedge, having gone all round the field, +and crosses to a small detached circular fir plantation in the centre. There he +goes out of sight a minute or two; but presently appears skirting the low shed +and rickyard yonder, and is finally lost behind the hedges. This round he will +go every evening, and almost exactly at the same time—that is, in +reference to the sun, which is the clock of nature. +</p> + +<p> +Step never so quietly out from the mound, the small birds that unnoticed have +come to roost in the bushes will hear it and fly off in alarm. The rabbits that +are near the hedge rush in; those that are far from home crouch in the furrows +and the bunches. Crossing the open field, they suddenly start as it seems from +under your feet—one white tail goes dapping up and down this way, another +jerks over the “lands” that way. The moonbeams now glisten on the +double-barrel; and a bright sparkle glitters here and there as a dewdrop +catches a ray. +</p> + +<p> +Upon the grass a faint halo appears; it is a narrow band of light encircling +the path, an oval ring—perhaps rather horseshoe shape than oval. It +glides in front, keeping ever at the same distance as you walk, as if there the +eye was focussed. This is only seen when the grass is wet with dew, and better +in short grass than long. Where it shines the grass looks a paler green. +Passing gently along a hedge thickly timbered with oak and elms, a hawk may +perhaps start forth: hawks sometimes linger by the hedges till late, but it is +not often that you can shoot one at roost except in spring. Then they +invariably return to roost in the nest tree, and are watched there, and so +shot, a gunner approaching on each side of the hedge. In the lane dark +objects—rabbits—hasten away, and presently the footpath crosses the +still motionless brook near where it flows into the mere. +</p> + +<p> +The low brick parapet of the bridge is overgrown with mosses; great hedges grow +each side, and the willows, long uncut, almost meet in the centre. In one hedge +an opening leads to a drinking-place for cattle: peering noiselessly over the +parapet between the boughs, the coots and moorhens may be seen there feeding by +the shore. They have come up from the mere as the ducks and teal do in the +winter. The broader waters can scarcely be netted without a boat, but the brook +here is the very place for a moonlight haul. The net is stretched first across +the widest spot nearest to the pool, that no fish may escape. They swim up here +in the daytime in shoals, perch especially; but the night poachers are often +disappointed, for the fish seem to retire to deeper waters as the darkness +comes on. A black mass of mud-coated sticks, rotten twigs, and thorn bushes, +entangled in the meshes, is often the only result of much toil. +</p> + +<p> +Once now and then, as when a preserved pond is netted, a tremendous take +occurs; but nets are rather gone by, being so unwieldy and requiring several +men to manage effectually. If they are not hung out to dry properly after being +used, they soon rot. Now, a large net stretched along railings or a hedge is +rather a conspicuous object, and brings suspicion on the owner. It is also so +heavy after use that until wrung, which takes time, a strong man can barely +carry it; and if a sudden alarm comes it must be abandoned. +</p> + +<p> +It is pleasant to rest awhile on the parapet in the shadow of the bushes. The +low thud-thud of sculls in the rowlocks of a distant punt travels up the water. +By-and-by a hare comes along, enters on the bridge, and almost reaches the gate +in the middle before he spies anything suspicious. Such a spot, and, indeed, +any gateway, used to be a favourite place to set a net, and then drive the +hares towards it with a cur dog that ran silent. Bold must be the man that +would set a net in a footpath now, with almost every field preserved by owner +or tenant. With a bound the hare hies back and across the meadow: the gun comes +to the shoulder as swiftly. +</p> + +<p> +On the grass lit by the moon the hare looked quite distinct, but the moment the +gaze is concentrated up the barrel he becomes a dim object with no defined +outline. In shooting on the ground by twilight or in the moonbeams, waste no +time in endeavouring to aim, but think of the hare’s ears—say a +couple of feet in front of his tail—and the moment the gun feels steady +pull the trigger. The flash and report come together; there is a dull +indescribable sound ahead, as some of the shot strikes home in fur and some +drills into the turf, and then a rustling in the grass. The moorhens dive, and +the coots scuttle down the brook towards the mere at the flash. While yet the +sulphurous smoke lingers, slow to disperse, over the cool dewy sward, there +comes back an echo from the wood behind, then another from the mere, then +another and another beyond. +</p> + +<p> +The distant sculls have ceased to work in the rowlocks—those in the punt +are listening to the echoes; most likely they have been fishing for tench in +the deep holes under the black shadow of the aspens. (Tench feed in the dark: +if you wish to take a big one wait till it is necessary to fix a piece of white +paper on the float.) Now put the empty cartridge in your pocket instead of +throwing it aside; pull the hare’s neck across your knee, and hurry off. +But you may safely stay to harle him; for those very echoes that have been +heard a mile round about are the best safeguard: not one man in a thousand +could tell the true direction whence the sound of the explosion originated. +</p> + +<p> +The pleasure of wandering in a wood was so great that it could never be +resisted, and did not solely arise from the instinct of shooting. Many +expeditions were made without a gun, or any implement of destruction, simply to +enjoy the trees and thickets. There was one large wood very carefully +preserved, and so situate in an open country as not to be easily entered. But a +little observation showed that the keeper had a “habit.” He used to +come out across the wheatfields to a small wayside “public,” and +his route passed by a lonely barn and rickyard. One warm summer day I saw him +come as usual to the “public,” and while he was there quietly +slipped as far as the barn and hid in it. +</p> + +<p> +In July such a rickyard is very hot; heat radiates from every straw. The ground +itself is dry and hard, each crevice choked with particles of white chaff; so +that even the couch can hardly grow except close under the low hedge where the +pink flower of the pimpernel opens to the sky. White stone staddles—short +conical pillars with broad capitals—stand awaiting the load of sheaves +that will shortly press on them. Every now and then a rustling in the heaps of +straw indicates the presence of mice. From straw and stone and bare earth heat +seems to rise up. The glare of the sunlight pours from above. The black pitched +wooden walls of the barn and sheds prevent the circulation of air. There are no +trees for shadow—nothing but a few elder bushes, which are crowded at +intervals of a few minutes with sparrows rushing with a whirr of wings up from +the standing corn. +</p> + +<p> +But the high pitched roof of the barn and of the lesser sheds has a beauty of +its own—the minute vegetation that has covered the tiles having changed +the original dull red to an orange hue. From ridge to eaves, from end to end, +it is a wide expanse of colour, only varying so much in shade as to save it +from monotony. It stands out glowing, distinct against the deep blue of the +sky. The “cheep” of fledgeling sparrows comes from the crevices +above; but swallows do not frequent solitary buildings so much as those by +dwelling-houses, being especially fond of cattle-sheds where cows are milked. +</p> + +<p> +The proximity of animals apparently attracts them: perhaps in the more exposed +places there may be dangers from birds of prey. As for the sparrows, they are +innumerable. Some are marked with white patches—a few so much so as to +make quite a show when they fly. One handsome cock bird has a white ring half +round his neck, and his wings are a beautiful partridge-brown. He looks larger +than the common sort; and there are several more here that likewise appear to +exceed in size, and to have the same peculiar brown. +</p> + +<p> +After a while there came the sound of footsteps and a low but cheerful whistle. +The keeper having slaked a thirst very natural on such a sultry day returned, +and re-entered the wood. I had decided that it would be the best plan to follow +in his rear, because then there would be little chance of crossing his course +haphazard, and the dogs would not sniff any strange footsteps, since the +footsteps would not be there till they had gone by. To hide from the eyes of a +man is comparatively easy; but a dog will detect an unwonted presence in the +thickest bush, and run in and set up a yelping, especially if it is a puppy. +</p> + +<p> +It was not more than forty yards from the barn to the wood: there was no mound +or hedge, but a narrow, deep, and dry watercourse, a surface drain, ran across. +Stooping a little and taking off my hat, I walked in this, so that the wheat +each side rose above me and gave a perfect shelter. This precaution was +necessary, because on the right there rose a steep Down, from whose summit the +level wheat-fields could be easily surveyed. So near was it that I could +distinguish the tracks of the hares worn in the short grass. But if you take +off your hat no one can distinguish you in a wheat-field, more particularly if +your hair is light: nor even in a hedge. +</p> + +<p> +Where the drain or furrow entered the wood was a wire-netting firmly fixed, and +over it tall pitched palings, sharp at the top. The wood was enclosed with a +thick hawthorn hedge that looked impassable; but the keeper’s footsteps, +treading down the hedge-parsley and brushing aside the “gicks,” +guided me behind a bush where was a very convenient gap. These signs and the +smooth-worn bark of an ash against which it was needful to push proved that +this quiet path was used somewhat frequently. +</p> + +<p> +Inside the wood the grass and the bluebell leaves—the bloom past and +ripening to seed—so hung over the trail that it was difficult to follow. +It wound about the ash stoles in the most circuitous manner—now to avoid +the thistles, now a bramble thicket, or a hollow filled with nettles. Then the +ash poles were clothed with the glory of the woodbine—one mass of white +and yellow wax-like flowers to a height of eight or nine feet, and forming a +curtain of bloom from branch to branch. +</p> + +<p> +After awhile I became aware that the trail was approaching the hill. At the +foot it branched; and the question arose whether to follow the fork that +zig-zagged up among the thickets or that which seemed to plunge into the +recesses beneath. I had never been in this wood before—the time was +selected because it was probable that the keeper would be extremely occupied +with his pheasant chicks. Though the earth was so hard in the exposed +rick-yard, here the clayey ground was still moist under the shadow of the +leaves. Examining the path more closely, I easily distinguished the impression +of the keeper’s boot: the iron toe-plate has left an almost perfect +impression, and there were the deep grooves formed by the claws of his dog as +it had scrambled up the declivity and the pad slipped on the clay. +</p> + +<p> +As he had taken the upward path, no doubt it led direct to the pheasants, which +was sure to be on the hill itself, or a dry and healthy slope. I therefore took +the other trail, since I must otherwise have overtaken him; for he would stay +long among his chicks: just as an old-fashioned farmer lingers at a gate, +gazing on his sheep. Advancing along the lower path, after some fifteen minutes +it turned sharply to the right, and I stood under the precipitous cliff-like +edge of the hill in a narrow coombe. The earth at the top hung over the verge, +and beech-trees stood as it seemed in the act to topple, their exposed roots +twisting to and fro before they re-entered the face of the precipice. Large +masses of chalky rubble had actually fallen, and others were all but detached. +The coombe, of course, could be overlooked from thence; but a moment’s +reflection convinced me there was no risk, for who would dare to go near enough +to the edge to look down? +</p> + +<p> +The coombe was full of fir-trees; and by them stood a long narrow +shed—the roof ruinous, but the plank walls intact. It had originally been +erected in a field, since planted for covers. This long shed, a greenish grey +from age and mouldering wood, became a place of much interest. Along the back +there were three rows of weasels and stoats nailed through the head or neck to +the planks. There had been a hundred in each row—about three hundred +altogether. The lapse of time had entirely dissipated the substance of many on +the upper row; nothing remained but the grim and rusty nail. Further along +there hung small strips without shape. Beyond these the nails supported +something that had a rough outline still of the animal. In the second row the +dried and shrivelled creatures were closely wrapped in nature’s +mummy-cloth of green; in the third, some of those last exposed still retained a +dull brown colour. None were recent. Above, under the eaves, the spiders’ +webs had thickly gathered; beneath, the nettles flourished. +</p> + +<p> +But the end of the shed was the place where the more distinguished offenders +were gibbeted. A footpath, well worn and evidently much used, went by this end, +and, as I afterwards ascertained, communicated with the mansion above and the +keeper’s cottage some distance below. Every passenger between must pass +the gallows where the show of more noble traitors gave proof of the +keeper’s loyal activity. Four shorter rows rose in tiers. To the nails at +the top strong beaks and black feathers adhered, much bedraggled and ruffled by +weather. These crows had long been dead; the keeper when he shot a crow did not +trouble to have it carried home, unless a nail was conspicuously vacant. The +ignoble bird was left where he fell. +</p> + +<p> +On the next row the black and white of magpies and the blue of jays alternated. +Many of the magpies had been despoiled of their tails, and some of their wings, +the feathers being saleable. The jays were more numerous, and untouched; they +were slain in such numbers that the market for their plumage was glutted. +Though the bodies were shrunken, the feathers were in fair condition. +Magpies’ nests are so large that in winter, when the leaves are off the +trees, they cannot but be seen, and, the spot being marked, in the summer old +and young are easily destroyed. Hawks filled the third row. The kestrels were +the most numerous, but there were many sparrow-hawks. These made a great show, +and were stuck so closely that a feather could hardly be thrust between them. +In the midst, quite smothered under their larger wings, were the remains of a +smaller bird—probably a merlin. But the last and lowest row, that was +also nearest, or on a level with the face of a person looking at the gallows, +was the most striking. +</p> + +<p> +This grand tier was crowded with owls—not arranged in any order, but +haphazard, causing a fine mixture of colour. Clearly this gallery was +constantly renewed. The white owl gave the prevalent tint, side by side with +the brown wood owls, and scattered among the rest, a few long horned +owls—a mingling of white, yellowish brown, and tawny feathers. Though +numerous here, yet trap and gun have so reduced the wood owls that you may +listen half the night by a cover and never hear the “Who-hoo” that +seems to demand your name. +</p> + +<p> +The barn owls are more liable to be shot, because they are more conspicuous; +but, on the other hand, as they often breed and reside away from covers, they +seem to escape. For months past one of these has sailed by my window every +evening uttering a hissing “skir-r-r.” Here, some were nailed with +their backs to the wall, that they might not hide their guilty faces. +</p> + +<p> +The delicate texture of the owl’s feathers is very remarkable: these +birds remind me of a huge moth. The owls were more showy than the hawks, though +it is commonly said that without sunlight there is no colour—as in the +case of plants grown in darkness. Yet the hawks are day birds, while the owls +fly by night. There came the sound of footsteps; and I retreated, casting one +glance backward at the black and white, the blue and brown colours that +streaked the wall, while the dull green weasels were in perpetual shadow. By +night the bats would flit round and about that gloomy place. It would not do to +return by the same path, lest another keeper might be coming up it; so I +stepped into the wood itself. To those who walk only in the roads, hawks and +owls seem almost rare. But a wood is a place to which they all flock; and any +wanderer from the north or west naturally tends thither. This wood is of large +extent; but even to the smaller plantations of the Downs it is wonderful what a +number come in the course of a year. Besides the shed just visited, there would +be certain to be another more or less ornamented near the keeper’s +cottage, and probably others scattered about, where the commoner vermin could +be nailed without the trouble of carrying them far away. Only the owls and +hawks, magpies, and such more striking evidences of slaughter were collected +here, and almost daily renewed. +</p> + +<p> +To get into the wood was much easier than to get out, on account of the thick +hedge, palings, and high sharp-sparred gates; but I found a dry ditch where it +was possible to creep under the bushes into a meadow where was a footpath. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap06"></a>CHAPTER VI<br/> +LURCHER-LAND: “THE PARK”</h2> + +<p> +The time of the apple-bloom is the most delicious season in Sarsen village. It +is scarcely possible to obtain a view of the place, although it is built on the +last slope of the Downs, because just where the ground drops and the eye +expects an open space, plantations of fir and the tops of tall poplars and elms +intercept the glance. In ascending from the level meadows of the vale thick +double mounds, heavily timbered with elm, hide the houses until you are +actually in their midst. +</p> + +<p> +Those only know a country who are acquainted with its footpaths. By the roads, +indeed, the outside may be seen; but the footpaths go through the heart of the +land. There are routes by which mile after mile may be travelled without +leaving the sward. So you may pass from village to village; now crossing green +meads, now cornfields, over brooks, past woods, through farmyard and rick +“barken.” But such tracks are not mapped, and a stranger misses +them altogether unless under the guidance of an old inhabitant. +</p> + +<p> +At Sarsen the dusty road enters the more modern part of the village at once, +where the broad signs hang from the taverns at the cross-ways and where the +loafers steadily gaze at the new comer. The Lower Path, after stile and hedge +and elm, and grass that glows with golden buttercups, quietly leaves the side +of the double mounds and goes straight through the orchards. There are fewer +flowers under the trees, and the grass grows so long and rank that it has +already fallen aslant of its own weight. It is choked, too, by masses of +clog-weed, that springs up profusely over the site of old foundations; so that +here ancient masonry may be hidden under the earth. Indeed, these orchards are +a survival from the days when the monks laboured in vineyard and garden, and +mayhap even of earlier times. When once a locality has got into the habit of +growing a certain crop it continues to produce it for century after century; +and thus there are villages famous for apple or pear or cherry, while the +district at large is not at all given to such culture. +</p> + +<p> +The trunks of the trees succeed each other in endless ranks, like columns that +support the most beautiful roof of pink and white. Here the bloom is rosy, +there white prevails: the young green is hidden under the petals that are far +more numerous than leaves, or even than leaves will be. Though the path really +is in shadow as the branches shut out the sun, yet it seems brighter here than +in the open, as if the place were illuminated by a million tiny lamps shedding +the softest lustre. The light is reflected and apparently increased by the +countless flowers overhead. +</p> + +<p> +The forest of bloom extends acre after acre, and only ceases where hedges +divide, to commence again beyond the boundary. A wicket gate, all green with a +film of vegetation over the decaying wood, opens under the very eaves of a +cottage, and the path goes by the door—across a narrow meadow where deep +and broad trenches, green now, show where ancient stews or fishponds existed, +and then through a farmyard into a lane. Tall poplars rise on either hand, but +there seem to be no houses; they stand, in fact, a field’s breadth back +from the lane, and are approached by footpaths that every few yards necessitate +a stile in the hedge. +</p> + +<p> +When a low thatched farmhouse does abut upon the way, the blank white wall of +the rear part faces the road, and the front door opens on precisely the other +side. Hard by is a row of beehives. Though the modern hives are at once more +economical and humane, they have not the old associations that cling about the +straw domes topped with broken earthenware to shoot off the heavy downfall of a +thunderstorm. +</p> + +<p> +Everywhere the apple-bloom; the hum of bees; children sitting on the green +beside the road, their laps full of flowers; the song of finches; and the low +murmur of water that glides over flint and stone so shadowed by plants and +grasses that the sunbeams cannot reach and glisten on it. Thus the straggling +flower-strewn village stretches along beneath the hill and rises up the slope, +and the swallows wheel and twitter over the gables where are their hereditary +nesting-places. The lane ends on a broad dusty road, and, opposite, a quiet +thatched house of the larger sort stands, endways to the street, with an open +pitching before the windows. There, too, the swallows’ nests are crowded +under the eaves, flowers are trained against the wall, and in the garden stand +the same beautiful apple-trees. But within, the lower part of the +windows—that have recess seats—are guarded by horizontal rods of +iron, polished by the backs of many men. It is an inn, and the rods are to save +the panes from the impact of an excited toper’s arm. +</p> + +<p> +The talk to-day, as the brown brandy, which the paler cognac has not yet +superseded, is consumed, and the fumes of coarse tobacco and the smell of spilt +beer and the faint sickly odour of evaporating spirits overpower the flowers, +is of horses. The stable lads from the training stables far up on the Downs +drop in or call at the door without dismounting. Once or twice in the day a +tout calls and takes his “grub,” and scribbles a report in the +little back parlour. Sporting papers, beer-stained and thumb-marked, lie on the +tables; framed portraits of racers hang on the walls. Burly men, who certainly +cannot ride a race, but who have horse in every feature, puff cigars and chat +in jerky monosyllables that to an outsider are perfectly incomprehensible. But +the glib way in which heavy sums of money are spoken of conveys the impression +that they dabble in enormous wealth. +</p> + +<p> +There are dogs under the tables and chairs; dogs in the window-seat; dogs +panting on the stone flags of the passage, after a sharp trot behind a trap, +choosing the coolest spot to loll their red tongues out; dogs outside in the +road; dogs standing on hind legs, and painfully lapping the water in the +horse-trough; and there is a yapping of puppies in the distance. The cushions +of the sofa are strewn with dogs’ hairs, and once now and then a dog +leisurely hops up the staircase. +</p> + +<p> +Customers are served by the landlady, a decent body enough in her way: her son, +the man of the house, is up in the “orchut” at the rear, feeding +his dogs. Where the “orchut” ends in a paddock stands a small shed: +in places the thatch on the roof has fallen through in the course of years and +revealed the bare rafters. The bottom part of the door has decayed, and the +long nose of a greyhound is thrust out sniffing through a hole. Dickon, the +said son, is delighted to undo the padlock for a visitor who is +“square.” In an instant the long hounds leap up, half a dozen at a +time, and I stagger backwards, forced by the sheer vigour of their caresses +against the doorpost. Dickon cannot quell the uproarious pack: he kicks the +door open, and away they scamper round and round the paddock at headlong speed. +</p> + +<p> +What a joy it is to them to stretch their limbs! I forget the squalor of the +kennel in watching their happy gambols. I cannot drink more than one tumbler of +brown brandy and water; but Dickon overlooks that weakness, feeling that I +admire his greyhounds. It is arranged that I am to see them work in the autumn. +</p> + +<p> +The months pass, and in his trap with the famous trotter in the shafts we roll +up the village street. Apple-bloom and golden fruit too are gone, and the +houses show more now among the bare trees; but as the rim of the ruddy November +sun comes forth from the edge of a cloud there appears a buff tint everywhere +in the background. When elm and ash are bare the oaks retain their leaves, and +these are illumined by the autumn beams. Over-topped by tall elms and hidden by +the orchards, the oaks were hardly seen in summer; now they are found to be +numerous and give the prevailing hue to the place. +</p> + +<p> +Dickon taps the dashboard as the mare at last tops the hill, and away she +speeds along the level plateau for the Downs. Two greyhounds are with us; two +more have gone on under charge of a boy. Skirting the hills a mile or two, we +presently leave the road and drive over the turf: there is no track, but Dickon +knows his way. The rendezvous is a small fir plantation, the young trees in +which are but shoulder-high. Below is a plain entirely surrounded by the hills, +and partly green with root crops: more than one flock of sheep is down there, +and two teams ploughing the stubble. Neither the ploughmen nor the shepherds +take the least heed of us, except to watch for the sport. The spare couple are +fastened in the trap; the boy jumps up and takes the reins. Dickon puts the +slip on the couple that are to run first, and we begin to range. +</p> + +<p> +Just at the foot of the hill the grass is tall and grey; there, too, are the +dead dry stalks of many plants that cultivation has driven from the ploughed +fields and that find a refuge at the edge. A hare starts from the very verge +and makes up the Downs. Dickon slips the hounds, and a faint halloo comes from +the shepherds and the ploughmen. It is a beautiful sight to see the hounds +bound over the sward; the sinewy back bends like a bow, but a bow that, instead +of an arrow, shoots itself; the deep chests drink the air. Is there any moment +so joyful in life as the second when the chase begins? As we gaze, before we +even step forward, the hare is over the ridge and out of sight. Then we race +and tear up the slope; then the boy in the trap flaps the reins and away goes +the mare out of sight too. +</p> + +<p> +Dickon is long and rawboned, a powerful fellow, strong of limb, and twice my +build; but he sips too often at the brown brandy, and after the first burst I +can head him. But he knows the hills and the route the hare will take, so that +I have but to keep pace. In five minutes as we cross a ridge we see the game +again; the hare is circling back—she passes under us not fifty yards +away, as we stand panting on the hill. The youngest hound gains, and runs right +over her; she doubles, the older hound picks up the running. By a furze-bush +she doubles again; but the young one turns her—the next moment she is in +the jaws of the old dog. +</p> + +<p> +Again and again the hounds are slipped, now one couple, now the other: we pant, +and can scarcely speak with running, but the wild excitement of the hour and +the sweet pure air of the Downs supply fresh strength. The little lad brings +the mare anywhere: through the furze, among the flint-pits, jolting over the +ruts, she rattles along with sure alacrity. There are five hares in the sack +under the straw when at last we get up and slowly drive down to the highway, +reaching it some two miles from where we left it. Dickon sends the dogs home by +the boy on foot; we drive round and return to the village by a different route, +entering it from the opposite direction. +</p> + +<p> +The reason of these things is that Sarsen has no great landlord. There are +fifty small proprietors, and not a single resident magistrate. Besides the +small farmers, there are scores of cottage owners, every one of whom is +perfectly independent. Nobody cares for anybody. It is a republic, without even +the semblance of a Government. It is liberty, equality, and swearing. As it is +just within the limit of a borough, almost all the cottagers have votes, and +are not to be trifled with. The proximity of horse-racing establishments adds +to the general atmosphere of dissipation. Betting, card-playing, +ferret-breeding and dog-fancying, poaching and politics, are the occupations of +the populace. A little illicit badger-baiting is varied by a little +vicar-baiting; the mass of the inhabitants are the reddest of Reds. Que +voulez-vous? +</p> + +<p> +The edges of some large estates come up near, but the owners would hardly like +to institute a persecution of these turbulent folk. If they did, where would be +their influence at the next election? If a landlord makes himself unpopular, +his own personal value depreciates. He is a nonentity in the committee-room, +and his help rather deprecated by the party than desired. The Sarsen fellows +are not such fools as to break pheasant preserves in the vale; as they are +resident, that would not answer. They keep outside the <i>sanctum sanctorum</i> +of the pheasant coverts. But with ferret, dog, and gun, and now and then a +partridge net along the edge of the standing barley, they excel. So, too, with +the wire; and the broad open Downs are their happy hunting grounds, especially +in misty weather. +</p> + +<p> +This is the village of the apple-bloom, the loveliest spot imaginable. After +all, they are not such desperately bad fellows if you deduct their sins against +the game laws. They are a jovial lot, and free with their money; they stand by +one another—a great virtue in these cold-blooded days. If one gets in +trouble with the law the rest subscribe the fine. They are full of knowledge of +a certain sort, and you may learn anything, from the best way to hang a dog +upwards. +</p> + +<p> +When we reach the inn, and Dickon calls for the brown brandy, there in the bar +sits a gamekeeper, whose rubicund countenance beams with good humour. He is +never called upon to pay his score. Good fellow! in addition he is popular, and +every one asks him to drink: besides which, a tip for a race now and then makes +this world wear a smiling aspect to him. +</p> + +<p> +Dickon’s “unconscious education”—absorbed rather than +learnt in boyhood—had not been acquired under conditions likely to lead +him to admire scenery. But, rough as he was, he was a good-natured fellow, and +it was through him that I became acquainted with a very beautiful place. +</p> + +<p> +The footpath to The Park went for about half a mile under the shadow of elm +trees, and in spring time there was a continual noise of young rooks in the +nests above. Occasionally dead twigs, either dislodged from the nests or broken +off by the motions of the old birds, came rustling down. One or two nests that +had been blown out strewed the sward with half a bushel of dead sticks. After +the rookery the path passed a lonely dairy, where the polished brazen vessels +in the skilling glittered like gold in the sunshine. Farther on came wide open +meadows with numerous oak-trees scattered in the midst—the outposts of +the great wood at hand. The elms were flourishing and vigorous; but these +detached oaks were decaying, and some dead, their hoar antiquity contrasting +with the green grass and flowers of the mead. +</p> + +<p> +The mansion was hidden by elm and chestnut, pines and sombre cedars. From the +edge of the lawn the steep slope of the Down rose, planted with all manner of +shrubs, the walks through which were inches deep in dead leaves, needles, and +fir-cones. Long neglect had permitted these to accumulate, and the yew hedges +had almost grown together and covered the walk they bordered. +</p> + +<p> +The woods and preserves extended along the Downs, between the hills and the +meadows beneath. There was one path through these woods that led into a narrow +steep-sided coombe, one side of which was planted with firs. On the other was a +little grass, but so thin as scarcely to cover the chalk. This side jutted out +from the general line of the hills, and formed a bold bluff, whose white +precipitous cliff was a landmark for many miles. In climbing the coombe, it was +sometimes necessary to grasp the bunches of grass; for it would have been +impossible to recover from a slip till, bruised and shaken, you rolled to the +bottom, and perhaps into the little streamlet flowing through the hollow. +</p> + +<p> +The summit was of small extent, but the view beautiful. A low fence of withy +had long since decayed, nothing but a few rotten stakes remaining at the very +verge of the precipice. Steep as it was, there were some ledges that the +rabbits frequented, making their homes in mid-air. Further along, the slope, a +little less perpendicular, was covered with nut-tree bushes, where you could +scramble down by holding to the boughs. There was a tradition of a fox-hunter, +in the excitement of the chase, forcing his horse to descend through these +bushes and actually reaching the level meadows below in safety. +</p> + +<p> +Impossible as it seemed, yet when the hounds were in full cry beneath it was +easy to understand that in the eagerness of the moment a horseman at the top +might feel tempted to join the stirring scene at any risk: for the fox +frequently ran just below, making along the line of coverts; and from that +narrow perch on the cliff the whole field came into sight at once. There was +Reynard slipping ahead, and two or more fields behind the foremost of the pack, +while the rest, rushing after, made the hills resound with their chiding. The +leaders taking the hedges, the main squadron splashing through a marshy place, +the outsiders straining to come up, and the last man behind, who rode harder +than any—all could be seen at the same time. +</p> + +<p> +It was a lovely spot, too, for dreaming on a summer’s day, reclining on +the turf, with the harebells swinging in the faint breeze. The extreme solitude +was its charm: no lanes or tracks other than those purely pastoral came near. +There were woods on either hand; in the fir plantations the jays chattered +unceasingly. The broad landscape stretched out to the illimitable distance, +till the power of the eye failed and could trace it no farther. But if the gaze +was lifted it looked into blue space—the azure heaven not only overhead, +but, as it seemed, all around. +</p> + +<p> +Dickon was always to and fro the mansion here, and took me with him. His object +was ostensibly business: now it was a horse to buy, now a fat bullock or sheep; +now it was an acre or two of wood that was to be cut. The people of the mansion +were so much from home that their existence was almost forgotten, and they were +spoken of vaguely as “on the Continent.” There was, in fact, a lack +of ready-money, perhaps from the accumulation of settlements, that reduced the +nominal income of the head to a tithe of what it should have been. +</p> + +<p> +Yet they were too proud to have in the modern builder, the modern upholsterer, +and, most dreadful of all, the modern “gardener,” to put in French +sashes, gilding and mirrors, and to root up the fine old yew hedges and level +the grand old trees. Such is the usual preparation before an advertisement +appears that a mansion of “historic association,” and +“replete with every modern convenience,” is to let, with some +thousand of acres of shooting, &c. +</p> + +<p> +They still kept up an establishment of servants—after a fashion—who +did much as they pleased. Dickon was a great favourite. As for myself, a mere +dreamy lad, I could go into the woods and wander as I liked, which was +sufficient. But I recollect the immense kitchen very well, and the polished +relics of the ancient turnspit machinery. There was a door from it opening on a +square stone-flagged court with a vertical sun-dial on the wall; and beyond +that ranges of disused coach-houses—all cloudy, as it were, with cobwebs +hanging on old-fashioned post-chaises. Dickon was in love with one of the +maids, a remarkably handsome girl. +</p> + +<p> +She showed me the famous mantelpiece, a vast carved work, under which you could +stand upright. The legend was that once a year on a certain night a sable horse +and cloaked horseman rode across that great apartment, flames snorting from the +horse’s nostrils, and into the fireplace, disappearing with a clap of +thunder. She brought me, too, an owl from the coach-houses, holding the bird by +the legs firmly, her hand defended by her apron from the claws. +</p> + +<p> +The butler was a little merry fellow, extremely fond of a gun, and expert in +using it. He seemed to have nothing to do but tell tales and sing, except at +the rare intervals when some of the family returned unexpectedly. The keeper +was always up there in the kitchen; he was as pleasant and jovial as a man +could well be, though full of oaths on occasion. He was a man of one +tale—of a somewhat enigmatical character. He would ask a stranger if they +had ever heard of such-and-such a village where water set fire to a barn, ducks +were drowned, and pigs cut their own throats, all in a single day. +</p> + +<p> +It seemed that some lime had been stored in the barn, when the brook rose and +flooded the place; this slaked the lime and fired the straw, and so the barn. +Something of the same kind happens occasionally on the river barges. The ducks +were in a coop fastened down, so that they could not swim on the surface of the +flood, which passed over and drowned them. The pigs were floated out of the +sty, and in swimming their sharp-edged hoofs struck their fat jowls just behind +the ear at every stroke till they cut into the artery, and so bled to death. +Where he got this history from I do not know. +</p> + +<p> +One bright October morning (towards the end of the month) Dickon drove me over +to the old place with his fast trotter—our double-barrels hidden under +some sacks in the trap. The keeper was already waiting in the kitchen, sipping +a glass of hot purl; the butler was filling every pocket with cartridges. After +some comparison of their betting-books, for Dickon, on account of his +acquaintance with the training establishments, was up to most moves, we +started. The keeper had to send a certain number of pheasants and other game to +the absent family and their friends every now and then, and this duty was his +pretext. There was plenty of shooting to be got elsewhere, but the spice of +naughtiness about this was alluring. To reach that part of the wood where it +was proposed to shoot the shortest way led across some arable fields. +</p> + +<p> +Fieldfares and redwings rose out of the hedges and flew away in their +peculiarly scattered manner—their flocks, though proceeding in the same +direction, seeming all loose and disordered. Where the ploughs had been at work +already the deep furrows were full of elm leaves, wafted as they fell from the +trees in such quantities as to make the groove left by the share level with the +ridges. A flock of lapwings were on the clods in an adjacent field, near enough +to be seen, but far beyond gunshot. There might perhaps have been fifty birds, +all facing one way and all perfectly motionless. They were, in fact, watching +us intently, although not apparently looking towards us: they act so much in +concert as to seem drilled. So soon as the possibility of danger had gone by +each would begin to feed, moving ahead. +</p> + +<p> +The path then passed through the little meadows that joined the wood: and the +sunlight glistened on the dew, or rather on the hoar frost that had melted and +clung in heavy drops to the grass. Here one flashed emerald; there ruby; +another a pure brilliance like a diamond. Under foot by the stiles the fallen +acorns crunched as they split into halves beneath the sudden pressure. +</p> + +<p> +The leaves still left on the sycamores were marked with large black spots: the +horse-chestnuts were quite bare; and already the tips of the branches carried +the varnish-coloured sheaths of the buds that were to appear the following +spring. These stuck to the finger if touched, as if they really had been +varnished. Through the long months of winter they would remain, till under +April showers and sunshine the sheath fell back and the green leaflets pushed +up, the two forming together a rude cross for a short time. +</p> + +<p> +The day was perfectly still, and the colours of the leaves still left glowed in +the sunbeams. Beneath, the dank bronzed fern that must soon shrivel was wet, +and hung with spiders’ webs that like a slender netting upheld the dew. +The keeper swore a good deal about a certain gentleman farmer whose lands +adjoined the estate, but who held under a different proprietor. Between these +two there was a constant bickering—the tenant angry about the damage done +to his crops by the hares and rabbits, and the keeper bitterly resenting the +tenant’s watch on his movements, and warnings to his employer that all +was not quite as it should be. +</p> + +<p> +The tenant had the right to shoot, and he was always about in the +turnips—a terrible thorn in the side of Dickon’s friend. The tenant +roundly declared the keeper a rascal, and told his master so in written +communications. The keeper declared the tenant set gins by the wood, in which +the pheasants stepped and had their legs smashed. Then the tenant charged the +keeper with trespassing; the other retorted that he decoyed the pheasants by +leaving peas till they dropped out of the pods. In short, their hatred was +always showing itself in some act of guerrilla warfare. As we approached the +part of the woods fixed on, two of the keeper’s assistants, carrying +thick sticks, stepped from behind a hedge, and reported that they had kept a +good watch, and the old fox (the tenant) had not been seen that morning. So +these fellows went round to beat, and the guns were got ready. +</p> + +<p> +Sometimes you could hear the pheasants running before they reached the +low-cropped hawthorn hedge at the side of the plantation; sometimes they came +so quietly as to appear suddenly out from the ditch, having crept through. +Others came with a tremendous rush through the painted leaves, rising just +before the hedge; and now and then one flew screaming high over the tops of the +firs and ash-poles, his glossy neck glowing in the sunlight and his long tail +floating behind. These last pleased me most, for when the shot struck the great +bird going at that rate even death could not at once arrest his progress. The +impetus carried him yards, gradually slanting downwards till he rolled in the +green rush bunches. +</p> + +<p> +Then a hare slipped out and ran the gauntlet, and filled the hollow with his +cries when the shot broke his hindquarters, till the dog had him. Jays came in +couples, and green woodpeckers singly: the magpies cunningly flew aside instead +of straight ahead; they never could do anything straightforward. A stoat peeped +out, but went back directly when a rabbit whose retreat had been cut off bolted +over his most insidious enemy. Every now and then Dickon’s shot when he +fired high cut the twigs out of the ash by me. Then came the distant noise of +the beaters’ sticks, and the pheasants, at last thoroughly disturbed, +flew out in twos and threes at a time. Now the firing grew fierce, and the roll +of the volleys ceaseless. It was impossible to jam the cartridges fast enough +in the breech. +</p> + +<p> +A subtle flavour of sulphur filled the mouth, and the lips became dry. Sunshine +and gleaming leaves and sky and grass seemed to all disappear in the fever of +the moment. The gun burned the hands, all blackened by the powder; the metal +got hotter and hotter; the sward was poached and trampled and dotted with +cases; shot hissed through the air and pattered in showers on the opposite +plantation; the eyes, bleared and bloodshot with the smoke, could scarce see to +point the tube. Pheasants fell, and no one heeded; pheasants escaped, and none +noticed it; pheasants were but just winged and ran wounded into the distant +hedges; pheasants were blown out of all living shape and could hardly be +gathered up. Not a word spoken: a breathless haste to load and blaze; a storm +of shot and smoke and slaughter. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap07"></a>CHAPTER VII<br/> +OBY AND HIS SYSTEM: THE MOUCHER’S CALENDAR</h2> + +<p> +One dark night, as I was walking on a lonely road, I kicked against something, +and but just saved myself from a fall. It was an intoxicated man lying at full +length. As a rule, it is best to let such people alone; but it occurred to me +that the mail-cart was due; with two horses harnessed tandem-fashion, and +travelling at full speed, the mail would probably go over him. So I seized the +fellow by the collar and dragged him out of the way. Then he sat up, and asked +in a very threatening tone who I was. I mentioned my name: he grunted, and fell +back on the turf, where I left him. +</p> + +<p> +The incident passed out of my mind, when one afternoon a labourer called, +asking for me in a mysterious manner, and refusing to communicate his business +to any one else. When admitted, he produced a couple of cock pheasants from +under his coat, the tail feathers much crumpled, but otherwise in fine +condition. These he placed on the table, remarking, “I ain’t forgot +as you drawed I out of the raud thuck night.” I made him understand that +such presents were too embarrassing; but he seemed anxious to do +“summat,” so I asked him to find me a few ferns and rare plants. +</p> + +<p> +This he did from time to time; and thus a species of acquaintanceship grew up, +and I learned all about him. He was always called “Oby” +(<i>i.e.</i> Obadiah), and was the most determined poacher of a neighbouring +district—a notorious fighting man—hardened against shame, an +Ishmaelite openly contemning authority and yet not insensible to kindness. I +give his history in his own language—softening only the pronunciation, +that would otherwise be unintelligible. +</p> + +<p> +“I lives with my granny in Thorney-lane: it be outside the village. My +mother be married agen, you see, to the smith: her have got a cottage as +belongs to her. My brother have got a van and travels the country; and +sometimes I and my wife goes with him. I larned to set up a wire when I went to +plough when I were a boy, but never took to it regular till I went a-navigating +[navvying] and seed what a spree it were. +</p> + +<p> +“There ain’t no such chaps for poaching as they navigators in all +England: I means where there be a railway a-making. I’ve knowed forty of +’em go out together on a Sunday, and every man had a dog, and some two; +and good dogs too—lots of ’em as you wouldn’t buy for ten +quid. They used to spread out like, and sweep the fields as clean as the crownd +of your hat. Keepers weren’t no good at all, and besides they never +knowed which place us was going to make for. One of the chaps gave I a puppy, +and he growed into the finest greyhound as you’d find in a day’s +walk. The first time I was took up before the bench I had to go to gaol, +because the contractor had broke and the works was stopped, so that my mates +hadn’t no money to pay the fine. +</p> + +<p> +“The dog was took away home to granny by my butty [comrade], but one of +the gentlemen as seed it in the court sent his groom over and got it off the +old woman for five pound. She thought if I hadn’t the hound I should give +it up, and she come and paid me out of gaol. It was a wonder as I didn’t +break her neck; only her was a good woman, you see, to I. But I wouldn’t +have parted with that hound for a quart-full of sovereigns. Many’s a time +I’ve seed his name—they changed his name, of course—in the +papers for winning coursing matches. But we let that gent as bought him have it +warm; we harried his pheasants and killed the most of ’em. +</p> + +<p> +“After that I came home, and took to it regular. It ain’t no use +unless you do it regular. If a man goes out into the fields now and then +chance-like he don’t get much, and is most sure to be caught—very +likely in the place of somebody else the keepers were waiting for and as +didn’t come. I goes to work every day the same as the rest, only I always +take piece-work, which I can come to when I fancy, and stay as late in the +evening as suits me with a good excuse. As I knows navigating, I do a main bit +of draining and water-furrowing, and I gets good wages all the year round, and +never wants for a job. You see, I knows more than the fellows as have never +been at nothing but plough. +</p> + +<p> +“The reason I gets on so well poaching is because I’m always at +work out in the fields, except when I goes with the van. I watches everything +as goes on, and marks the hare’s tracks and the rabbit buries, and the +double mounds and little copses as the pheasants wanders off to in the autumn. +I keeps a nation good look-out after the keeper and his men, and sees their +dodges—which way they walks, and how they comes back sudden and +unexpected on purpose. There’s mostly one about with his eyes on +me—when they sees me working on a farm they puts a man special to look +after me. I never does nothing close round where I’m at work, so he waits +about a main bit for nothing. +</p> + +<p> +“You see by going out piece-work I visits every farm in the parish. The +other men they works for one farmer for two or three or maybe twenty years; but +I goes very nigh all round the place—a fortnight here and a week there, +and then a month somewhere else. So I knows every hare in the parish, and all +his runs and all the double mounds and copses, and the little covers in the +corners of the fields. When I be at work on one place I sets my wires about +half a mile away on a farm as I ain’t been working on for a month, and +where the keeper don’t keep no special look-out now I be gone. As I goes +all round, I knows the ways of all the farmers, and them as bides out late at +night at their friends’, and they as goes to bed early; and so I knows +what paths to follow and what fields I can walk about in and never meet nobody. +</p> + +<p> +“The dodge is always to be in the fields and to know everybody’s +ways. Then you may do just as you be a-mind. All of ’em knows I be +a-poaching; but that don’t make no difference for work; I can use my +tools, and do it as well as any man in the country, and they be glad to get me +on for ’em. They farmers as have got their shooting be sharper than the +keepers, and you can’t do much there; but they as haven’t got the +shooting don’t take no notice. They sees my wires in the grass, and just +looks the other way. If they sees I with a gun I puts un in ditch till they be +gone by, and they don’t look among the nettles. +</p> + +<p> +“Some of them as got land by the wood would like I to be there all day +and night. You see, their clover and corn feeds the hares and pheasants; and +then some day when they goes into the market and passes the poultry-shop there +be four or five score pheasants a-hanging up with their long tails a-sweeping +in the faces of them as fed ’em. The same with the hares and the rabbits; +and so they’d just as soon as I had ’em—and a dalled deal +sooner—out of spite. Lord bless you! if I was to walk through their +courtyards at night with a sack over my shoulders full of you knows what, and +met one of ’em, he’d tell his dog to stop that yowling, and go in +doors rather than see me. As for the rabbits, they hates they worse than +poison. They knocks a hare over now and then themselves on the +quiet—bless you! I could tell tales on a main few, but I bean’t +such a fellow as that. +</p> + +<p> +“But, you see I don’t run no risk except from the keeper hisself, +the men as helps un, and two or three lickspittles as be always messing round +after a ferreting job or some wood-cutting, and the Christmas charities. It be +enough to make a man sick to see they. This yer parish be a very big un, and a +be preserved very high, and I can do three times as much in he as in the next +un, as ain’t much preserved. So I sticks to this un. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course they tried to drive I out of un, and wanted the cottage; but +granny had all the receipts for the quit-rent, and my lard and all the lawyers +couldn’t shove us out, and there we means to bide. You have seed that row +of oaks as grows in the hedge behind our house. One of ’em leaned over +the roof, and one of the limbs was like to fall; but they wouldn’t cut +him, just to spite us, and the rain dripping spoilt the thatch. So I just had +another chimney built at that end for an oven, and kept up the smoke till all +the tree that side died. I’ve had more than one pheasant through them +oaks, as draws ’em: I had one in a gin as I put in the ditch by my +garden. +</p> + +<p> +“They started a tale as ’twas I as stole the lambs a year or two +ago, and they had me up for it; but they couldn’t prove nothing agen me. +Then they had me for unhinging the gates and drowning ’em in the water, +but when they was going to try the case they two young farmers as you know of +come and said as they did it when they was tight, and so I got off. They said +as ’twas I that put the poison for the hounds when three on ’em +took it and died while the hunt was on. It were the dalledest lie! I +wouldn’t hurt a dog not for nothing. The keeper hisself put that poison, +I knows, ’cause he couldn’t bear the pack coming to upset the +pheasants. Yes, they been down upon I a main bit, but I means to bide. All the +farmers knows as I never touched no lamb, nor even pulled a turmot, and they +never couldn’t get no witnesses. +</p> + +<p> +“After a bit I catched the keeper hisself and the policeman at it; and +there be another as knows it, and who do you think that be? It be the man in +town as got the licence to sell game as haves most of my hares; the keeper +selled he a lot as the money never got to my lard’s pocket and the +steward never knowed of. Look at that now! So now he shuts his eye and axes me +to drink, and give me the ferreting job in Longlands Mound; but, Lord bless +’ee, I bean’t so soft as he thinks for. +</p> + +<p> +“They used to try and get me to fight the keeper when they did catch me +with a wire, but I knowed as hitting is transporting, and just put my hands in +my pockets and let ’em do as they liked. <i>They</i> knows I bean’t +afraid of ’em in the road; I’ve threshed more than one of +’em, but I ain’t going to jump into <i>that</i> trap. I’ve +been before the bench, at one place and t’other, heaps of times, and paid +the fine for trespass. Last time the chairman said to I, ‘So you be here +again, Oby; we hear a good deal about you.’ I says, ‘Yes, my lard, +I be here agen, but people never don’t hear nothing about +<i>you</i>.’ That shut the old duffer up. Nobody never heard nothing of +he, except at rent-audit. +</p> + +<p> +“However, they all knows me now—my lard and the steward, and the +keeper and the bailies, and the farmers; and they don’t take half the +notice of I as they used to. The keeper he don’t dare, nor the policeman +as I telled you, and the rest be got used to me and my ways. And I does very +well one week with t’other. One week I don’t take nothing, and the +next I haves a good haul, chiefly hares and rabbits; ’cause of course I +never goes into the wood, nor the plantations. It wants eight or ten with crape +masks on for that job. +</p> + +<p> +“I sets up about four wires, sometimes only two; if you haves so many it +is a job to look after ’em. I stops the hare’s other runs, so that +she is sure to come along mine where I’ve got the turnpike up: the trick +is to rub your hand along the runs as you want to stop, or spit on ’em, +or summat like that; for a hare won’t pass nothing of that sort. So pussy +goes back and comes by the run as I’ve chose: if she comes quick she +don’t holler; if she comes slow she squeals a bit sometimes before the +wire hangs her. Very often I bean’t fur off and stops the squealing. +That’s why I can’t use a gin—it makes ’em holler so. I +ferrets a goodish few rabbits on bright nights in winter. +</p> + +<p> +“As for the pheasants, I gets them mostly about acorn-time; they comes +out of the plantations then. I keeps clear of the plantations, because, besides +the men a-watching, they have got dogs chained up, and alarm-guns as goes off +if you steps on the spring; and some have got a string stretched along as you +be pretty sure to kick against, and then, bang! and all the dogs sets up a +yowling. Of course it’s only powder, but it brings the keepers along. But +when the acorns and the berries be ripe, the pheasants comes out along the +hedges after ’em, and gets up at the haws and such like. They wanders for +miles, and as they don’t care to go all the way back to roost they bides +in the little copses as I told you of. They come to the same copses every year, +which is curious, as most of them as will come this year will be shot before +next. +</p> + +<p> +“If I can’t get ’em the fust night, I just throws a handful +or two of peas about the place, and they’ll be sure to stay, and likely +enough bring two or three more. I mostly shoots ’em with just a little +puff of powder as you wouldn’t hear across one field, especially if +it’s a windy night. I had a air-gun, as was took from me, but he +weren’t much go: I likes a gun as throws the shot wide, but I never +shoots any but roosters, unless I catch ’em standing still. +</p> + +<p> +“All as I can tell you is as the dodge is this: you watch everybody, and +be always in the fields, and always work one parish till you knows every hare +in un, and always work by yourself and don’t have no mates.” +</p> + +<p> +There were several other curious characters whom we frequently saw at work. The +mouchers were about all the year round, and seemed to live in, or by the +hedges, as much as the mice. These men probably see more than the most careful +observer, without giving it a thought. +</p> + +<p> +In January the ice that freezes in the ditches appears of a dark colour, +because it lies without intervening water on the dead brown leaves. Their tint +shows through the translucent crystal, but near the edge of the ice three white +lines or bands run round. If by any chance the ice gets broken or upturned, +these white bands are seen to be caused by flanges projecting from the under +surface, almost like stands. They are sometimes connected in such a way that +the parallel flanges appear like the letter “h” with the two +down-strokes much prolonged. In the morning the chalky rubble brought from the +pits upon the Downs and used for mending gateways leading into the fields +glistens brightly. Upon the surface of each piece of rubble there adheres a +thin coating of ice: if this be lightly struck it falls off, and with it a +flake of the chalk. As it melts, too, the chalk splits and crumbles; and thus +in an ordinary gateway the same process may be seen that disintegrates the most +majestic cliff. +</p> + +<p> +The stubbles—those that still remain—are full of linnets, upon +which the mouching fowler preys in the late autumn. And when at the end of +January the occasional sunbeams give some faint hope of spring, he wanders +through the lanes carrying a decoy bird in a darkened cage, and a few boughs of +privet studded with black berries and bound round with rushes for the +convenience of handling. +</p> + +<p> +The female yellow-hammers, whose hues are not so brilliant as those of the male +birds, seem as winter approaches to flock together, and roam the hedges and +stubble fields in bevies. Where loads of corn have passed through gates the +bushes often catch some straws, and the tops of the gateposts, being decayed +and ragged, hold others. These are neglected while the seeds among the stubble, +the charlock, and the autumn dandelion are plentiful and while the ears left by +the gleaners may still be found. But in the shadowless winter days, hard and +cold, each scattered straw is sought for. +</p> + +<p> +A few days before the new year [1879] opened I saw a yellow-hammer attacking, +in a very ingenious manner, a straw that hung pendent, the ear downwards, from +the post of a windy gateway. She fluttered up from the ground, clung to the +ear, and outspread her wings, keeping them rigid. The draught acted on the +wings, just as the breeze does on a paper kite, and there the bird remained +supported without an effort while the ear was picked. Now and then the balance +was lost, but she was soon up again, and again used the wind to maintain her +position. The brilliant cockbirds return in the early spring, or at least +appear to do so, for the habits of birds are sometimes quite local. +</p> + +<p> +It is probable that in severe and continued frost many hedgehogs die. On +January 19 [1879], in the midst of the sharp weather, a hedgehog came to the +door opening on the garden at night, and was taken in. Though carefully tended, +the poor creature died next day: it was so weak it could scarcely roll itself +into a ball. As the vital heat declined the fleas deserted their host and +issued from among the spines. In February, unless it be a mild season, the +mounds are still bare; and then under the bushes the ground may be sometimes +seen strewn with bulbous roots, apparently of the blue-bell, lying thickly +together and entirely exposed. +</p> + +<p> +The moucher now carries a bill-hook, and as he shambles along the road keeps a +sharp look-out for briars. When he sees one the roots of which are not +difficult to get at, and whose tall upright stem is green—if dark it is +too old—he hacks it off with as much of the root as possible. The lesser +branches are cut, and the stem generally trimmed; it is then sold to the +gardeners as the stock on which to graft standard roses. In a few hours as he +travels he will get together quite a bundle of such briars. He also collects +moss, which is sold for the purpose of placing in flowerpots to hide the earth. +The moss preferred is that growing on and round stoles. +</p> + +<p> +The melting of the snow and the rains in February cause the ditches to overflow +and form shallow pools in the level meadows. Into these sometimes the rooks +wade as far as the length of their legs allows them, till the discoloured +yellow water almost touches the lower part of the breast. The moucher searches +for small shell snails, of which quantities are sold as food for cage birds, +and cuts small “turfs” a few inches square from the green by the +roadside. These are in great request for larks, especially at this time of the +year, when they begin to sing with all their might. +</p> + +<p> +Large flocks of woodpigeons are now in every field where the tender swede and +turnip tops are sprouting green and succulent. These “tops” are the +moucher’s first great crop of the year. The time that they appear varies +with the weather: in a mild winter some may be found early in January; if the +frost has been severe there may be none till March. These the moucher gathers +by stealth; he speedily fills a sack, and goes off with it to the nearest town. +Turnip tops are much more in demand now than formerly, and the stealing of them +a more serious matter. This trade lasts some time, till the tops become too +large and garden greens take their place. +</p> + +<p> +In going to and fro the fields the moucher searches the banks and digs out +primrose “mars,” and ferns with the root attached, which he hawks +from door to door in the town. He also gathers quantities of spring flowers, as +violets. This spring [1879], owing to the severity of the season, there were +practically none to gather, and when the weather moderated the garden flowers +preceded those of the hedge. Till the 10th of March not a spot of colour was to +be seen. About that time bright yellow flowers appeared suddenly on the clayey +banks and waste places, and among the hard clay lumps of fields ploughed but +not sown. +</p> + +<p> +The brilliant yellow formed a striking contrast to the dull brown of the clods, +there being no green leaf to moderate the extremes of tint. These were the +blossoms of the coltsfoot, that sends up a stalk surrounded with faintly rosy +scales. Several such stalks often spring from a single clod: lift the heavy +clod, and you have half a dozen flowers, a whole bunch, without a single leaf. +Usually the young grasses and the seed-leaves of plants have risen up and +supply a general green; but this year the coltsfoot bloomed unsupported, +studding the dark ground with gold. +</p> + +<p> +Now the frogs are busy, and the land lizards come forth. Even these the moucher +sometimes captures; for there is nothing so strange but that some one selects +it for a pet. The mad March hares scamper about in broad daylight over the +corn, whose pale green blades rise in straight lines a few inches above the +soil. They are chasing their skittish loves, instead of soberly dreaming the +day away in a bunch of grass. The ploughman walks in the furrow his share has +made, and presently stops to measure the “lands” with the spud. His +horses halt dead in the tenth of a second at the sound of his voice, glad to +rest for a minute from their toil. Work there is in plenty now, for +stone-picking, hoeing, and other matters must be attended to; but the moucher +lounges in the road decoying chaffinches, or perhaps earns a shilling by +driving some dealer’s cattle home from fair and market. +</p> + +<p> +By April his second great crop is ready—the watercress; the precise time +of course varies very much, and at first the quantities are small. The hedges +are now fast putting on the robe of green that gradually hides the wreck of +last year’s growth. The withered head of the teazle, black from the rain, +falls and disappears. Great burdock stems lie prostrate. Thick and hard as they +are while the sap is still in them, in winter the wet ground rots the lower +part till the blast overthrows the stalk. The hollow “gicks” too, +that lately stood almost to the shoulder, is down, or slanting, temporarily +supported by some branch. Just between the root and the stalk it has decayed +till nothing but a narrow strip connects the dry upper part with the earth. The +moucher sells the nests and eggs of small birds to townsfolk who cannot +themselves wander among the fields, but who love to see something that reminds +them of the green meadows. +</p> + +<p> +As the season advances and the summer comes he gathers vast quantities of +dandelion leaves, parsley, sowthistle, clover, and so forth, as food for the +tame rabbits kept in towns. If his haunt be not far from a river, he spends +hours collecting bait—worm and grub and fly—for the boatmen, who +sell them again to the anglers. +</p> + +<p> +Again there is work in the meadows—the haymaking is about, and the +farmers are anxious for men. But the moucher passes by and looks for quaking +grass, bunches of which have a ready sale. Fledgeling goldfinches and linnets, +young rabbits, young squirrels, even the nest of the harvest-trow mouse, and +occasionally a snake, bring him in a little money. He picks the forget-me-nots +from the streams and the “blue-bottle” from the corn: bunches of +the latter are sometimes sold in London at a price that seems extravagant to +those who have seen whole fields tinted with its beautiful azure. By-and-by the +golden wheat calls for an army of workers; but the moucher passes on and +gathers groundsel. +</p> + +<p> +Then come the mushrooms: he knows the best places, and soon fills a basket full +of “buttons” picking them very early in the morning. These are then +put in “punnets” by the greengrocers and retailed at a high price. +Later the blackberries ripen and form his third great crop; the quantity he +brings in to the town is astonishing, and still there is always a customer. The +blackberry harvest lasts for several weeks, as the berries do not all ripen at +once, but successively, and is supplemented by elderberries and sloes. The +moucher sometimes sleeps on the heaps of disused tan in a tanyard; tanyards are +generally on the banks of small rivers. The tan is said to possess the property +of preserving those who sleep on it from chills and cold, though they may lie +quite exposed to the weather. +</p> + +<p> +There is generally at least one such a man as this about the outskirts of +market towns, and he is an “original” best defined by negatives. He +is not a tramp, for he never enters the casual wards and never begs—that +is, of strangers; though there are certain farmhouses where he calls once now +and then and gets a slice of bread and cheese and a pint of ale. He brings to +the farmhouse a duck’s egg that has been dropped in the brook by some +negligent bird, or carries intelligence of the nest made by some roaming goose +in a distant withy-bed. Or once, perhaps, he found a sheep on its back in a +narrow furrow, unable to get up and likely to die if not assisted, and by +helping the animal to gain its legs earned a title to the owner’s +gratitude. +</p> + +<p> +He is not a thief; apples and plums and so on are quite safe, though the +turnip-tops are not: there is a subtle casuistry involved here—the +distinction between the quasi-wild and the garden product. He is not a poacher +in the sense of entering coverts, or even snaring a rabbit. If the pheasants +are so numerous and so tame that passing carters have to whip them out of the +way of the horses, it is hardly wonderful if one should disappear now and then. +Nor is he like the Running Jack that used to accompany the more famous packs of +fox-hounds, opening gates, holding horses, and a hundred other little services, +and who kept up with the hunt by sheer fleetness of foot. +</p> + +<p> +Yet he is fleet of foot in his way, though never seen to run; he <i>pads</i> +along on naked feet like an animal, never straightening the leg, but always +keeping the knee a little bent. With a basket of watercress slung at his back +by a piece of tar-cord, he travels rapidly in this way; his feet go “pad, +pad” on the thick white dust, and he easily overtakes a good walker and +keeps up the pace for miles without exertion. The watercress is a great staple, +because it lasts for so many months. Seeing the nimble way in which he gathers +it, thrusting aside the brook-lime, breaking off the coarser sprays, snipping +away pieces of root, sorting and washing, and thinking of the amount of work to +be got through before a shilling is earned, one would imagine that the slow, +idling life of the labourer, with his regular wages, would be far more +enticing. +</p> + +<p> +Near the stream the ground is perhaps peaty: little black pools appear between +tufts of grass, some of them streaked with a reddish or yellowish slime that +glistens on the surface of the dark water; and as you step there is a hissing +sound as the spongy earth yields, and a tiny spout is forced forth several +yards distant. Some of the drier part of the soil the moucher takes to sell for +use in gardens and flower-pots as peat. +</p> + +<p> +The years roll on, and he grows old. But no feebleness of body or mind can +induce him to enter the workhouse; he cannot quit his old haunts. Let it rain +or sleet, or let the furious gale drive broken boughs across the road, he still +sleeps in some shed or under a straw-rick. In sheer pity he is committed every +now and then to prison for vagabondage—not for punishment, but in order +to save him from himself. It is in vain: the moment he is out he returns to his +habits. All he wants is a little beer—he is not a drunkard—and a +little tobacco, and the hedges. Some chilly evening, as the shadows thicken, he +shambles out of the town, and seeks the limekiln in the ploughed field, where, +the substratum being limestone, the farmer burns it. Near the top of the kiln +the ground is warm; there he reclines and sleeps. +</p> + +<p> +The night goes on. Out from the broken blocks of stone now and again there +rises a lambent flame, to shine like a meteor for a moment and then disappear. +The rain falls. The moucher moves uneasily in his sleep; instinctively he rolls +or crawls towards the warmth, and presently lies extended on the top of the +kiln. The wings of the water-fowl hurtle in the air as they go over; by-and-by +the heron utters his loud call. +</p> + +<p> +Very early in the morning the quarryman comes to tend his fire, and starts to +see on the now redhot and glowing stones, sunk below the rim, the presentment +of a skeleton formed of the purest white ashes—a ghastly spectacle in the +grey of the dawn, as the mist rises and the peewit plaintively whistles over +the marshy meadow. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap08"></a>CHAPTER VIII<br/> +CHURCHYARD PHEASANTS: BEFORE THE BENCH</h2> + +<p> +The tower of the church at Essant Hill was so low that it scarcely seemed to +rise above the maples in the hedges. It could not be seen until the last stile +in the footpath across the meadows was passed. Church and tower then came into +view together on the opposite side of a large open field. A few aged hawthorn +trees dotted the sward, and beyond the church the outskirts of a wood were +visible, but no dwellings could be seen. Upon a second and more careful glance, +however, the chimney of a cottage appeared above a hedge, so covered with ivy +as hardly to be separated from the green of the boughs. +</p> + +<p> +There were houses of course somewhere in Essant, but they were so scattered +that a stranger might doubt the existence of the village. A few farmsteads long +distances apart, and some cottages standing in green lanes and at the corners +of the fields, were nearly all; there was nothing resembling a +“street”—not so much as a row. The church was in effect the +village, and the church was simply the mausoleum of the Dessant family, the +owners of the place. Essant Hill as a name had been rather a problem to the +archæologists, there being no hill: the ground was quite level. The explanation +at last admitted was that Essant Hill was a corruption of D’Essantville. +</p> + +<p> +It seemed probable that the population had greatly diminished; because, +although the church was of great antiquity, there was space still for +interments in the yard. A yew tree of immense size stood in one corner, and was +by tradition associated with the fortunes of the family. Though the old trunk +was much decayed, yet there were still green and flourishing shoots; so that +the superstitious elders said the luck of the house was returning. +</p> + +<p> +Within, the walls of the church were covered with marble slabs, and the space +was reduced by the tombs of the Dessants, one with a recumbent figure; there +were two brasses level with the pavement, and in the chancel hung the faded +hatchments of the dead. For the pedigree went back to the Battle of Hastings, +and there was scarce room for more heraldry. From week’s end to +week’s end the silent nave and aisles remained empty; the chirp of the +sparrows was the only sound to be heard there. There being no house attached to +the living, the holder could not reside; so the old church slumbered in the +midst of the meadows, the hedges, and woods, day after day, year after year. +</p> + +<p> +You could sit on the low churchyard wall in early summer under the shade of the +elms in the hedge, whose bushes and briars came right over, and listen to the +whistling of the blackbirds or the varied note of the thrush; you might see the +whitethroat rise and sing just over the hedge, or look upwards and watch the +swallows and swifts wheeling, wheeling, wheeling in the sky. No one would pass +to disturb your meditations, whether simply dreaming of nothing in the genial +summer warmth, or thinking over the course of history since the prows of the +Norman ships grounded on the beach. If we suppose the time, instead of June, to +be August or September, there would not even be the singing of the birds. But +as you sat on the wall, by-and-by the pheasants, tame as chickens, would come +up the hedge and over into the churchyard. +</p> + +<p> +Leaving the church to stroll by the footpath across the meadow towards the +wood, at the first gateway half-a-dozen more pheasants scatter aside, just far +enough to let you pass. In the short dusty lane more pheasants; and again at +the edge of the cornfield. None of these show any signs of alarm, and only move +just far enough to avoid being trodden on. Approaching the wood there are yet +more pheasants, especially near the fir plantations that come up to the +keeper’s cottage and form one side of the enclosure of his garden. The +pheasants come up to the door to pick up what they can—not long since +they were fed there—and then wander away between the slender fir trunks, +and beyond them out into the fields. +</p> + +<p> +The path leads presently into a beautiful park, the only defect of which is +that it is without undulation. It is quite level; but still the clumps of noble +timber are pleasant to gaze upon. In one spot there still stands the grey wall +and buttress of some ancient building, doubtless the relic of an ecclesiastical +foundation. The present mansion is not far distant; it is of large size, but +lacks elegance. Inside, nothing that modern skill can supply to render a +residence comfortable, convenient, and (as art is understood in furniture) +artistic has been neglected. +</p> + +<p> +Behind the fir plantations there is an extensive range of stabling, recently +erected, with all the latest improvements. A telegraph wire connects the house +with the stable, so that carriage or horse may be instantly summoned. Another +wire has been carried to the nearest junction with the general telegraphic +system; so that the resident in this retired spot may communicate his wishes +without a moment’s delay to any part of the world. +</p> + +<p> +In the gardens and pleasure-grounds near the house all manner of ornamental +shrubs are planted. There are conservatories, vineries, pineries; all the +refinements of horticulture. The pheasants stray about the gravel walks and +across the close-mown lawn where no daisy dares to lift its head. Yet, with all +this precision of luxury, one thing is lacking—<i>the</i> one thing, the +keystone of English country life—<i>i.e.</i> a master whose heart is in +the land. +</p> + +<p> +The estate is in process of “nursing” for a minor. The revenues had +become practically sequestrated to a considerable extent in consequence of +careless living when the minor nominally succeeded. It happened that the +steward appointed was not only a lawyer of keen intelligence, but a +conscientious man. He did his duty thoroughly. Every penny was got out of the +estate that could be got, and every penny was saved. +</p> + +<p> +First, the rents were raised to the modern standard, many of them not having +been increased for years. Then the tenants were in effect ordered to farm to +the highest pitch, and to improve the soil itself by liberal investment. +Buildings, drains, and so forth were provided for them; they only had to pay a +small percentage upon the money expended in construction. In this there was +nothing that could be complained of; but the hard, mechanical, unbending spirit +in which it was done—the absence of all kind of sympathy—caused a +certain amount of discontent. The steward next proceeded to turn the mansion, +the park, home farm, and preserves into revenue. +</p> + +<p> +Everything was prepared to attract the wealthy man who wanted the temporary use +of a good country house, first-class shooting and hunting. He succeeded in +doing what few gentlemen have accomplished: he made the pheasants pay. One +reason, of course, was that gentlemen have expenses outside and beyond breeding +and keeping: the shooting party itself is expensive; whereas here the shooting +party paid hard cash for their amusement. The steward had no knowledge of +pheasants; but he had a wide experience of one side of human nature, and he +understood accounts. +</p> + +<p> +The keepers were checked by figures at every turn, finding it impossible to +elude the businesslike arrangements that were made. In revenue the result was +highly successful. The mansion with the first-class shooting, hunting, and +lovely woodlands—every modern convenience and comfort in the midst of the +most rural scenery—let at a high price to good tenants. There was an +income from what had previously been profitless. Under this shrewd management +the estate was fast recovering. +</p> + +<p> +At the same time the whole parish groaned in spirit. The farmers grumbled at +the moral pressure which forced them to progress in spite of themselves. They +grumbled at the strange people who took up their residence in their midst and +suddenly claimed all the loyalty which was the due of the old family. These +people hunted over their fields, jumped over the hedges, glanced at them +superciliously, and seemed astonished if every hat was not raised when they +came in sight. The farmers felt that they were regarded as ignorant barbarians, +and resented the town-bred insolence of people who aped the country gentleman. +</p> + +<p> +They grumbled about the over-preservation of game, and they grumbled about the +rabbits. The hunt had its grumble too because some of the finest coverts were +closed to the hounds, and because they wanted to know what became of the foxes +that formerly lived in those coverts. Here was a beautiful place—a place +that one might dream life away in—filled with all manner of discontent. +</p> + +<p> +Everything was done with the best intention. But the keystone was +wanting—the landlord, the master, who had grown up in the traditions of +the spot, and between whom and the people there would have been, even despite +of grievances, a certain amount of sympathy. So true is it that in England, +under the existing system of land tenure, an estate cannot be worked like the +machinery of a factory. +</p> + +<p> +At first, when the pheasant-preserving began to reach such a height, there was +a great deal of poaching by the resident labourers. The temptation was thrust +so closely before their faces they could not resist it. When pheasants came +wandering into the cottage gardens, and could even be enticed into the sheds +and so secured by simply shutting the door, men who would not have gone out of +their way to poach were led to commit themselves. +</p> + +<p> +There followed a succession of prosecutions and fines, till the place began to +get a reputation for that sort of thing. It was at last intimated to the +steward by certain gentlemen that this course of prosecution was extremely +injudicious. For it is a fact—a fact carefully ignored +sometimes—that resident gentlemen object to prosecutions, and, so far +from being anxious to fine or imprison poachers, would very much rather not. +The steward took the hint, and instead increased his watchers. But by this time +the novelty of pheasants roaming about like fowls had begun to wear off, and +their services were hardly needed. Men went by pheasants with as much +indifference as they would pass a tame duck by the roadside. +</p> + +<p> +Such poachers as visited the woods came from a distance. Two determined raids +were carried out by strangers, who escaped. Every now and then wires were found +that had been abandoned, but the poaching ceased to be more than is usual on +most properties. So far as the inhabitants of the parish were concerned it +almost ceased altogether; but every now and then the strollers, gipsies, and +similar characters carried off a pheasant or a hare, or half a dozen rabbits. +These offenders when detected were usually charged before the Bench at a market +town not many miles distant. Let us follow one there. +</p> + +<p> +The little town of L——, which has not even a branch railway, mainly +consists of a long street. In one part this street widens out, so that the +houses are some forty yards or more apart, and it then again contracts. This +irregularly shaped opening is the market-place, and here in the centre stands a +rude-looking building. It is supported upon thick short pillars, and was +perhaps preceded by a wooden structure. Under these pillars there is usually a +shabby chaise or two run in for cover, and the spot is the general rendezvous +of all the dogs in the town. +</p> + +<p> +This morning there are a few loafers hanging round the place; and the tame town +pigeons have fluttered down, and walk with nodding heads almost up to them. +These pigeons always come to the edge of a group of people, mindful of the +stray grain and peas that fall from the hands of farmers and dealers examining +samples on market days. Presently, two constables come across carrying a heavy, +clumsy box between them. They unlock a door, and take the box upstairs into the +hall over the pillars. After them saunters a seedy man, evidently a clerk, with +a rusty black bag; and after him again—for the magistrates’ +Clerk’s clerk must have <i>his</i> clerk—a boy with some +leather-bound books. +</p> + +<p> +Some of the loafers touch their hats as a gentleman—a +magistrate—rides up the street. But although the church clock is striking +the hour fixed for the sessions to begin he does not come over to the hall upon +dismounting in the inn-yard, but quietly strolls away to transact some business +with the wine-merchant or the saddler. There really is not the least hurry. The +Clerk stands in the inn porch calmly enjoying the September sunshine, and +chatting with the landlord. Two or three more magistrates drive up; presently +the chairman strolls over on foot from his house, which is almost in the town, +to the inn, and joins in the pleasant gossip going on there, of course in a +private apartment. +</p> + +<p> +Up in the justice-room the seedy Clerk’s clerk is leaning out of the +window and conversing with a man below who has come along with a barrow-load of +vegetables from his allotment. Some boys are spinning tops under the pillars. +On the stone steps that lead up to the hall a young mother sits nursing her +infant; she is waiting to “swear” the child. In the room itself +several gipsy-looking men and women lounge in a corner. At one end is a broad +table and some comfortable chairs behind it. In front of each chair, on the +table, two sheets of clean foolscap have been placed on a sheet of +blotting-paper. These and a variety of printed forms were taken from the clumsy +box that is now open. +</p> + +<p> +At last there is a slight stir as a group is seen to emerge from the inn, and +the magistrates take their seats. An elderly man who sits by the chair cocks +his felt hat on the back of his head: the clerical magistrate very tenderly +places his beaver in safety on the broad mantelpiece, that no irreverent sleeve +may ruffle its gloss: several others who rarely do more than nod assent range +themselves on the flanks; one younger man who looks as if he understood horses +pulls out his toothpick. The chairman, stout and gouty, seizes a quill and +sternly looks over the list of cases. +</p> + +<p> +Half a dozen summonses for non-payment of rates come first; then a dispute +between a farmer and his man. After this the young mother “swears” +her child; and, indeed, there is some very hard swearing here on both sides. A +wrangle between two women—neighbours—who accuse each other of +assault, and scream and chatter their loudest, comes next. Before they decide +it, the Bench retire, and are absent a long time. +</p> + +<p> +By degrees a buzz arises, till the justice-room is as noisy as a market. +Suddenly the door of the private room opens, and the Clerk comes out; instantly +the buzz subsides, and in the silence those who are nearest catch something +about the odds and the St. Leger, and an anything but magisterial roar of +laughter. The chairman appears, rigidly compressing his features, and begins to +deliver his sentence before he can sit down, but the solemn effect is much +marred by the passing of a steam ploughing engine. The audience, too, tend away +towards the windows to see whose engine it is. +</p> + +<p> +“Silence!” cries the Clerk, who has himself been looking out of +window; the shuffling of feet ceases, and it is found that after this long +consultation the Bench have dismissed both charges. The next case on the list +is poaching; and at the call of his name one of the gipsy-looking men advances, +and is ordered to stand before that part of the table which by consent +represents the bar. +</p> + +<p> +“Oby Bottleton,” says the Clerk, half reading, half extemporizing, +and shuffling his papers to conceal certain slips of technicality; “you +are charged with trespassing in pursuit of game at Essant Hill—that you +did use a wire on the estate—on land in the occupation of +Johnson.”—“It’s a lie!” cries a good-looking, +dark-complexioned woman, who has come up behind the defendant (the whilome +navvy), and carries a child so wrapped in a shawl as to be invisible. +“Silence! or you’ll have to go outside the court. Mr. Dalton +Dessant will leave the Bench during the hearing of this case.” Mr. Dalton +Dessant, one of the silent magistrates already alluded to, bows to the +chairman, and wriggles his chair back about two feet from the table. There he +gazes at the ceiling. He is one of the trustees of the Essant Hill property; +and the Bench are very careful to consult public opinion in L—— +borough. +</p> + +<p> +The first witness is an assistant keeper: the head keeper stands behind +him—a fine man, still upright and hearty-looking, but evidently at the +beginning of the vale of years; he holds his hat in his hand; the sunlight +falls through the casement on his worn velveteen jacket. The assistant, with +the aid of a few questions from the Clerk, gives his evidence very clear and +fairly. “I saw the defendant’s van go down the lane,” he +says: +</p> + +<p> +“It bean’t my van,” interrupts the defendant; +“it’s my brother’s.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll have an opportunity of speaking presently,” says the +Clerk. “Go on” (to the witness). +</p> + +<p> +“After the van went down the lane, it stopped by the highway-road, and +the horse was taken out. The women left the van with baskets, and went towards +the village.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes; come to the point. Did you hide yourself by order of the head +keeper?” +</p> + +<p> +“I did—in the nutwood hedge by Three Corner Piece; after a bit I +saw the defendant.” +</p> + +<p> +“Had you any reason for watching there?” +</p> + +<p> +“There was a wire and a rabbit in it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what happened?” +</p> + +<p> +“I waited a long time, and presently the defendant got over the gate. He +was very particular not to step on the soft mud by the gate—he kind of +leaped over it, not to leave the mark of his boots. He had a lurcher with him, +and I was afraid the dog would scent me in the hedge.” +</p> + +<p> +“You rascal!” (from the defendant’s wife). +</p> + +<p> +“But he didn’t, and, after looking carefully round, the defendant +picked up the rabbit, and put it and the wire in his pocket.” +</p> + +<p> +“What did you do then?” +</p> + +<p> +“I got out of the hedge and came towards him. Directly he saw me he ran +across the field; I whistled as loud as I could, and he” (jerking a thumb +back towards the head keeper) “came out of the firs into the lane and +stopped him. We found the wire and the rabbit in his pocket, and two more +wires. I produce the wires.” +</p> + +<p> +This was the sum of the evidence; the head keeper simply confirmed the latter +part of it. Oby replied that it was all false from beginning to end. He had not +got corduroy trousers on that day, as stated. He was not there at all: he was +in the village, and he could call witnesses to prove it. The Clerk reminded the +audience that there was such a thing as imprisonment for perjury. +</p> + +<p> +Then the defendant turned savagely on the first witness, and admitted the truth +of his statement by asking what he said when collared in the lane. “You +said you had had a good lot lately, and didn’t care if you was nailed +this time.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, what awful lies!” cried the wife. “It’s a wonder +you don’t fall dead!” +</p> + +<p> +“You were not there,” the Clerk remarked quietly. “Now, Oby, +what is your defence? Have you got any witnesses?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; I ain’t got no witnesses. All as I did, I know I walked up the +hedge to look for mushrooms. I saw one of them things”—meaning the +wires on the table—“and I just stooped down to see what it was, +’cos I didn’t know. I never seed one afore; and I was just going to +pick it up and look at it” (the magistrates glance at each other, and +cannot suppress a smile at this profound innocence), “when this fellow +jumped out and frightened me. I never seed no rabbit.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, you put the rabbit in your pocket,” interrupts the first +witness. +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind,” said the Clerk to the witness; “let him go +on.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s all as I got to say,” continues the defendant. +“I never seed no such things afore; and if he hadn’t come I should +have put it down again.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you were trespassing,” said the Clerk. +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t know it. There wasn’t no notice-board.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Oby,” cried the head keeper, “you know you’ve +been along that lane this ten years.” +</p> + +<p> +“That will do” (from the chairman); “is there any more +evidence?” +</p> + +<p> +As none was forthcoming, the Bench turned a little aside and spoke in low +tones. The defendant’s wife immediately set up a sobbing, varied +occasionally by a shriek; the infant woke up and cried, and two or three women +of the same party behind began to talk in excited tones about +“Shame.” The sentence was 2_l_. and costs—an announcement +that caused a perfect storm of howling and crying. +</p> + +<p> +The defendant put his hands in his pockets with the complacent expression of a +martyr. “I must go to gaol a’ spose; none of ourn ever went thur +afore: a’ spose <i>I</i> must go.” “Come,” said the +Clerk, “why, you or your brother bought a piece of land and a cottage not +long ago,”—then to the Bench, “They’re not real +gipsies: he is a grandson of old Bottleton who had the tollgate; you recollect, +Sir.” +</p> + +<p> +But the defendant declares he has no money; his friends shake their heads +gloomily; and amid the shrieking of his wife and the crying of the child he is +removed in the custody of two constables, to be presently conveyed to gaol. +With ferocious glances at the Bench, as if they would like to tear the +chairman’s eyes out, the women leave the court. +</p> + +<p> +“Next case,” calls the Clerk. The court sits about two hours +longer, having taken some five hours to get through six cases. Just as the +chairman rises the poacher’s wife returns to the table, without her +child, angrily pulls out a dirty canvas bag, and throws down three or four +sovereigns before the seedy Clerk’s clerk. The canvas bag is evidently +half-full of money—the gleam of silver and gold is visible within it. The +Bench stay to note this proceeding with an amused expression on their features. +The woman looks at them as bold as brass, and stalks off with her man. +</p> + +<p> +Half an hour afterwards, two of the magistrates riding away from the town pass +a small tavern on the outskirts. A travelling van is outside, and from the +chimney on its roof thin smoke arises. There is a little group at the doorway, +and among them stands the late prisoner. Oby holds a foaming tankard in one +hand, and touches his battered hat, as the magistrates go by, with a gesture of +sly humility. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap09"></a>CHAPTER IX<br/> +LUKE, THE RABBIT CONTRACTOR: THE BROOK-PATH</h2> + +<p> +The waggon-track leading to the Upper Woods almost always presented something +of interest, and often of beauty. The solitude of the place seemed to have +attracted flowers and ferns as well as wild animals and birds. For though +flowers have no power of motion, yet seeds have a negative choice and lie +dormant where they do not find a kindly welcome. But those carried hither by +the birds or winds took root and flourished, secure from the rude ploughshare +or the sharp scythe. +</p> + +<p> +The slow rumble of waggon-wheels seldom disturbed the dreamy silence, or +interrupted the song of the birds; so seldom that large docks and thistles grew +calmly beside the ruts untouched by hoofs. From the thick hedges on either side +trailing brambles and briars stretched far out, and here and there was a fallen +branch, broken off by the winds, whose leaves had turned brown and withered +while all else was green. Round sarsen stones had been laid down in the marshy +places to form a firm road, but the turf had long since covered most of them. +Where the smooth brown surfaces did project mosses had lined the base, and +rushes leaned over and hid the rest. +</p> + +<p> +In the ditches, under the shade of the brambles, the hart’s-tongue fern +extended its long blade of dark glossy green. By the decaying stoles the hardy +fern flourished, under the trees on the mounds the lady fern could be found, +and farther up nearer the wood the tall brake almost supplanted the bushes. Oak +and ash boughs reached across: in the ash the wood-pigeons lingered. Every now +and then the bright colours of the green woodpeckers flashed to and fro their +nest in a tree hard by. They would not have chosen it had not the place been +nearly as quiet as the wood itself. +</p> + +<p> +Blackthorn bushes jealously encroached on the narrow stile that entered the +lane from a meadow—a mere rail thrust across a gap. The gates, set in +deep recesses—short lanes themselves cut through the mounds—were +rotten and decayed, so as to scarcely hold together, and not to be moved +without care. Hawthorn branches on each side pushed forward and lessened the +opening; on the ground, where the gateposts had rotted nearly off, fungi came +up in thick bunches. +</p> + +<p> +The little meadows to which they led were rich in oaks, growing on the +“shore” of the ditches, tree after tree. The grass in them was not +plentiful, but the flowers were many; in the spring the orchis sent up its +beautiful purple, and in the heat of summer the bird’s-foot lotus +flourished in the sunny places. Farther up, nearer the wood, the lane became +hollow—worn down between high banks, at first clothed with fern, and +then, as the hill got steeper, with fir trees. +</p> + +<p> +Where firs are tall and thick together the sunbeams that fall aslant between +them seem to be made more visible than under other trees, by the motes or wood +dust in the air. Still farther the banks became even steeper, till nothing but +scanty ash stoles could grow upon them, the fir plantations skirting along the +summit. Then suddenly, at a turn, the ground sank into a deep hollow, where in +spring the eye rested with relief and pleasure on the tops of young firs, acre +after acre, just freshly tinted with the most delicate green. From thence the +track went into the wood. +</p> + +<p> +By day all through the summer months there was always something to be seen in +the lane—a squirrel, a stoat; always a song-bird to listen to, a flower +or fern to gather. By night the goatsucker visited it, and the bat, and the +white owl gliding down the slope. In winter when the clouds hung low the +darkness in the hollow between the high banks, where the light was shut out by +the fir trees, was like that of a cavern. It was then that night after night a +strange procession wended down it. +</p> + +<p> +First came an old man, walking stiffly—not so much from age as +rheumatism—and helping his unsteady steps on the slippery sarsen stones +with a stout ground-ash staff. Behind him followed a younger man, and in the +rear a boy. Sometimes there was an extra assistant, making four; sometimes +there was only the old man and one companion. Each had a long and strong ash +stick across his shoulder, on which a load of rabbits was slung, an equal +number in front and behind, to balance. The old fellow, who was dressed +shabbily even for a labourer, was the contractor for the rabbits shot or +ferreted in these woods. +</p> + +<p> +He took the whole number at a certain fixed price all round, and made what he +could out of them. Every evening in the season he went to the woods to fetch +those that had been captured during the day, conveying them to his cottage on +the outskirts of the village. From thence they went by carrier’s cart to +the railway. Old Luke’s books, such as they were, were quite beyond the +understanding of any one but himself and his wife; nor could even they +themselves tell you exactly how many dozen he purchased in the year. But in his +cups the wicked old hypocrite had often been known to boast that he paid the +lord of the manor as much money as the rent of a small farm. +</p> + +<p> +One of Luke’s eyes was closed with a kind of watery rheum, and was never +opened except when he thought a rabbit was about to jump into a net. The other +was but half open, and so overhung with a thick grey eyebrow as to be barely +visible. His cheeks were the hue of clay, his chin scrubby, and a lanky black +forelock depended over one temple. A battered felt hat, a ragged discoloured +slop, and corduroys stained with the clay of the banks completed his squalid +costume. +</p> + +<p> +A more miserable object or one apparently more deserving of pity it would be +hard to imagine. To see him crawl with slow and feeble steps across the fields +in winter, gradually working his way in the teeth of a driving rain, was enough +to arouse compassion in the hardest heart: there was something so utterly +woebegone in his whole aspect—so weather-beaten, as if he had been rained +upon ever since childhood. He seemed humbled to the ground—crushed and +spiritless. +</p> + +<p> +Now and then Luke was employed by some of the farmers to do their ferreting for +them and to catch the rabbits in the banks by the roadside. More than once +benevolent people driving by in their cosy cushioned carriages, and seeing this +lonely wretch in the bitter wind watching a rabbit’s hole as if he were a +dog well beaten and thrashed, had been known to stop and call the poor old +fellow to the carriage door. Then Luke would lay his hand on his knee, shake +his head, and sorrowfully state his pains and miseries: “Aw, I be +ter-rable bad, I be,” he would say; “I be most terrable bad: I +can’t but just drag my leg out of this yer ditch. It be a dull job, bless +’ee, this yer.” The tone, the look of the man, the dreary winter +landscape all so thoroughly agreed together that a few small silver coins would +drop into his hand, and Luke, with a deep groaning sigh of thankfulness, would +bow and scrape and go back to his “dull job.” +</p> + +<p> +Luke, indeed, somehow or other was always in favour with the +“quality.” He was as firmly fixed in his business as if he had been +the most clever courtier. It was not of the least use for any one else to offer +to take the rabbits, even if they would give more money. No, Luke was the +trusty man; Luke, and nobody else, was worthy. So he grovelled on from year to +year, blinking about the place. When some tenant found a gin in the turnip +field, or a wire by the clover, and quietly waited till Luke came fumbling by +and picked up the hare or rabbit, it did not make the slightest difference +though he went straight to the keeper and made a formal statement. +</p> + +<p> +Luke had an answer always ready: he had not set the wire, but had stumbled on +it unawares, and was going to take it to the keeper; or he had noticed a colony +of rats about, and had put the gin for them. Now, the same excuse might have +been made by any other poacher; the difference lay in this—that Luke was +believed. At all events, such little trifles were forgotten, and Luke went on +as before. He did a good deal of the ferreting in the hedges outside the woods +himself: if he took home three dozen from the mound and only paid for two +dozen, that scarcely concerned the world at large. +</p> + +<p> +If in coming down the dark and slippery lane at night somebody with a heavy +sack stepped out from the shadow at the stile, and if the contents of the sack +were rapidly transferred to the shoulder-sticks, or the bag itself bodily taken +along—why, there was nobody there to see. As for the young man and the +boy who helped, those discreet persons had always a rabbit for their own pot, +or even for a friend; and indeed it was often remarked that old Luke could +always get plenty of men to work for him. No one ever hinted at searching the +dirty shed at the side of his cottage that was always locked by day, or looking +inside the disused oven that it covered. But if fur or feathers had been found +there, was not he the contractor? And clearly if a pheasant <i>was</i> there he +could not be held responsible for the unauthorised acts of his assistants. +</p> + +<p> +The truth was that Luke was the most thorough-paced poacher in the +place—or, rather, he was a wholesale receiver. His success lay in making +it pleasant for everybody all round. It was pleasant for the keeper, who could +always dispose of a few hares or pheasants if he wanted a little money. The +keeper, in ways known to himself, made it pleasant for the bailiff. It was +equally pleasant for the under-keepers, who had what they wanted (in reason), +and enjoyed a little by-play on their own account. It was pleasant for his men; +and it was pleasant—specially pleasant—at a little wayside inn kept +by Luke’s nephew, and, as was believed, with Luke’s money. +Everybody concerned in the business could always procure refreshment there, +including the policeman. +</p> + +<p> +There was only one class of persons whom Luke could not conciliate; and they +were the tenants. These very inconsiderate folk argued that it was the +keepers’ and Luke’s interest to maintain a very large stock of +rabbits, which meant great inroads on their crops. There seemed to be even +something like truth in their complaints; and once or twice the more +independent carried their grievances to headquarters so effectually as to +elicit an order for the destruction of the rabbits forthwith on their farms. +But of what avail was such an order when the execution of it was entrusted to +Luke himself? +</p> + +<p> +In time the tenants got to put up with Luke; and the wiser of them turned round +and tried to make it still more pleasant for <i>him</i>: they spoke a good word +for him; they gave him a quart of ale, and put little things in his way, such +as a chance to buy and sell faggots at a small profit. Not to be ungrateful, +Luke kept their rabbits within reasonable bounds; and he had this great +recommendation—that whether they bullied him or whether they gave him ale +and bread-and-cheese, Luke was always humble and always touched his hat. +</p> + +<p> +His wife kept a small shop for the sale of the coarser groceries and a little +bacon. He had also rather extensive gardens, from which he sold quantities of +vegetables. It was more than suspected that the carrier’s cart was really +Luke’s—that is, he found the money for horsing it, and could take +possession if he liked. The carrier’s cart took his rabbits, and the game +he purchased of poachers, to the railway, and the vegetables from the gardens +to the customers in town. +</p> + +<p> +At least one cottage besides his own belonged to him; and some would have it +that this was one of the reasons of his success with the “quality.” +The people at the great house, anxious to increase their influence, wished to +buy every cottage and spare piece of land. This was well known, and many small +owners prided themselves upon spiting the big people at the great house by +refusing to sell, or selling to another person. The great house was believed to +have secured the first “refuse” of Luke’s property, if ever +he thought of selling. Luke, in fact, among the lower classes was looked upon +as a capitalist—a miser with an unknown hoard. The old man used to sit of +a winter’s evening, after he had brought down the rabbits, by the hearth, +making rabbit-nets of twine. Almost everybody who came along the road, home +from the market town, stopped, lifted the latch without knocking, and looked in +to tell the news or hear it. But Luke’s favourite manoeuvre was to take +out his snuff-box, tap it, and offer it to the person addressing him. This he +would do to a farmer, even though it were the largest tenant of all. For this +snuff-box was a present from the lady at the great house, who took an interest +in poor old Luke’s infirmities, and gave him the snuff-box, a really good +piece of workmanship, well filled with the finest snuff, to console his +wretchedness. +</p> + +<p> +Of this box Luke was as proud as if it had been the insignia of the Legion of +Honour, and never lost an opportunity of showing it to every one of standing. +When the village heard of this kindly present it ran over in its mind all that +it knew about the stile, and the sacks, and the disused oven. Then the village +very quietly shrugged its shoulders, and though it knew not the word irony, +well understood what that term conveys. +</p> + +<p> +At the foot of the hill on which the Upper Woods were situate there extended a +level tract of meadows with some cornfields. Through these there flowed a large +slow brook, often flooded in winter by the water rushing down from the higher +lands. It was pleasant in the early year to walk now and then along the +footpath that followed the brook, noting the gradual changes in the hedges. +</p> + +<p> +When the first swallow of the spring wheels over the watery places the dry +sedges of last year still stand as they grew. They are supported by the bushes +beside the meadow ditch where it widens to join the brook, and the water it +brings down from the furrows scarcely moves through the belt of willow lining +the larger stream. As the soft west wind runs along the hedge it draws a sigh +from the dead dry stalks and leaves that will no more feel the rising sap. +</p> + +<p> +By the wet furrows the ground has still a brownish tint, for there the floods +lingered and discoloured the grass. Near the ditch pointed flags are springing +up, and the thick stems of the marsh marigold. From bunches of dark green +leaves slender stalks arise and bear the golden petals of the marsh buttercups, +the lesser celandine. If the wind blows cold and rainy they will close, and +open again to the sunshine. +</p> + +<p> +At the outside of the withies, where the earth is drier, stand tall +horse-chestnut trees, aspen, and beech. The leaflets of the horse-chestnut are +already opening; but on the ground, half-hidden under beech leaves not yet +decayed, and sycamore leaves reduced to imperfect grey skeletons, there lies a +chestnut shell. It is sodden, and has lost its original green—the +prickles, too, have decayed and disappeared; yet at a touch it falls apart, and +discloses two chestnuts, still of a rich, deep polished brown. +</p> + +<p> +On the very bank of the brook there grows a beech whose bare boughs droop over, +almost dipping in the water, where it comes with a swift rush from the narrow +arches of a small bridge whose bricks are green with moss. The current is still +slightly turbid, for the floods have not long subsided, and the soaked meadows +and ploughed fields send their rills to swell the brook and stain it with sand +and earth. On the surface float down twigs and small branches forced from the +trees by the gales: sometimes an entangled mass of aquatic weeds—long, +slender green filaments twisted and matted together—comes more slowly +because heavy and deep in the water. +</p> + +<p> +A little bird comes flitting silently from the willows and perches on the +drooping beech branch. It is a delicate little creature, the breast of a faint +and dull yellowy green, the wings the lightest brown, and there is a pencilled +streak over the eye. The beak is so slender it scarce seems capable of the work +it should do, the legs and feet so tiny that they are barely visible. Hardly +has he perched than the keen eyes detect a small black speck that has just +issued from the arch, floating fast on the surface of the stream and borne +round and round in a tiny whirlpool. +</p> + +<p> +He darts from the branch, hovers just above the water, and in a second has +seized the black speck and returned to the branch. A moment or two passes, and +again he darts and takes something—this time invisible—from the +water. A third time he hovers, and on this occasion just brushes the surface. +Then, suddenly finding that these movements are watched, he flits—all too +soon—up high into the beech and away into the narrow copse. The general +tint and shape of the bird are those of the willow wren, but it is difficult to +identify the species in so brief a glance and without hearing its note. +</p> + +<p> +The path now trends somewhat away from the stream and skirts a ploughed field, +where the hedges are cropped close and the elms stripped of the lesser boughs +about the trunks, that the sparrows may not find shelter. But all the same +there are birds here too—one in the thick low hedge, two or three farther +on, another in the ditch perching on the dead white stems of last year’s +plants that can hardly support an ounce weight, and all calling to each other. +It is six marsh tits, as busy as they can well be. +</p> + +<p> +One rises from the ditch to the trunk of an elm where the thick bark is green +with lichen: he goes up the tree like a woodpecker, and peers into every +crevice. His little beak strikes, peck, peck, at a place where something is +hidden: then he proceeds farther up the trunk: next he descends a few steps in +a sidelong way, and finally hops down some three inches head foremost, and +alights again on the all but perpendicular bark. But his tail does not touch +the tree, and in another minute down he flies again to the ditch. +</p> + +<p> +A shrill and yet low note that sounds something like “skeek-skeek” +comes from a birch, and another “skeek-skeek” answers from an elm. +It is like the friction of iron against iron without oil on the bearings. This +is the tree-climber calling to his mate. He creeps over the boles of the birch, +and where the larger limbs join the trunk, trailing his tail along the bark, +and clinging so closely that but for the sharp note he would be passed. Even +when that has called attention, the colour of his back so little differs from +the colour of bark that if he is some height up the tree it is not easy to +detect him. +</p> + +<p> +The days go on and the hedges become green—the sun shines, and the +blackbirds whistle in the trees. They leave the hedge, and mount into the elm +or ash to deliver their song; then, after a pause, dive down again to the +bushes. Up from the pale green corn that is yet but a few inches high rises a +little brown bird, mounting till he has attained to the elevation of the +adjacent oak. Then, beginning his song, he extends his wings, lifts his tail, +and gradually descends slanting forward—slowly, like a +parachute—sing, sing, singing all the while till the little legs, that +can be seen against the sky somewhat depending, touch the earth and the wheat +hides him. Still from the clod comes the finishing bar of his music. +</p> + +<p> +In a short time up he rises again, and this time from the summit of his flight +sinks in a similar manner singing to a branch of the oak. There he sings again; +and, again rising, comes back almost to the same bough singing as he descends. +But he is not alone: from an elm hard by come the same notes, and from yet +another tree they are also repeated. They cannot rest—now one flits from +the topmost bough of an elm to another topmost bough; now a second comes up +from feeding, and cries from the branches. They are tree-pipits; and though the +call is monotonous, yet it is so cheerful and pleasing that one cannot choose +but stay and listen. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly, two that have been vigorously calling start forward together and meet +in mid-air. They buffet each other with their wings; their little beaks +fiercely strike; their necks are extended; they manoeuvre round each other, +trying for an advantage. They descend, heedless in the rage of their tiny +hearts, within a few yards of the watcher, and then in alarm separate. But one +flies to the oak branch and defiantly calls immediately. +</p> + +<p> +Over the meadows comes the distant note of the cuckoo. When he first calls his +voice is short and somewhat rough, but in a few days it gains power. Then the +second syllable has a mellow ring: and as he cries from the tree, the note, +swiftly repeated and echoed by the wood, dwells on the ear something like the +“hum” or vibration of a beautiful bell. +</p> + +<p> +As the hedges become green the ivy leaves turn brown at the edge and fall; the +wild ivy is often curiously variegated. At the foot of the tree up which it +climbs the leaves are five-angled, higher up they lose the angles and become +rounded, though growing on the same plant. Sometimes they have a grey tint, +especially those that trail along the bank; sometimes the leaves are a reddish +brown with pale green ribs. +</p> + +<p> +By the brook now the meadow has become of a rich bright green, the stream has +sunk and is clear, and the sunlight dances on the ripples. The grasses at the +edge—the turf—curl over and begin to grow down the steep side that +a little while since was washed by the current. Where there is a ledge of mud +and sand the yellow wagtail runs; he stands on a stone and jerks his tail. +</p> + +<p> +The ploughed field that comes down almost to the brook—a mere strip of +meadow between—is green too with rising wheat, high enough now to hide +the partridges. Before it got so tall it was pleasant to watch the pair that +frequent it; they were so confident that they did not even trouble to cower. At +any other time of year they would have run, or flown; but then, though scarcely +forty yards away and perfectly visible, they simply ceased feeding but showed +no further alarm. +</p> + +<p> +Upon the plough birds in general should look as their best friend, for it +provides them with the staff of life as much as it does man. The earth turned +up under the share yields them grubs and insects and worms: the seed is sown +and the clods harrowed, and they take a second toll; the weeds are hoed or +pulled up, and at their roots there are more insects; from the stalk and ears +and the bloom of the rising corn they seize caterpillars; when it is ripe they +enjoy the grain; when it is cut and carried there are ears in the stubble, and +they can then feast on the seeds of the innumerable plants that flowered among +it; finally comes the plough again. It is as if the men and horses worked for +the birds. +</p> + +<p> +The horse-chestnut trees in the narrow copse bloom; the bees are humming +everywhere and summer is at hand. Presently the brown cockchafers will come +almost like an army of locusts, as suddenly appearing without a sign. They seem +to be particularly numerous where there is much maple in the hedges. +</p> + +<p> +Resting now on the sward by the stream—contracted in seeming by the weeds +and flags and fresh sedges—there comes the distant murmur of voices and +the musical laugh of girls. The ear tries to distinguish the words and gather +the meaning; but the syllables are intertangled—it is like listening to a +low sweet song in a language all unknown. This is the water falling gently over +the mossy hatch and splashing faintly on the stones beneath; the blue +dragon-flies dart over the smooth surface or alight on a broad leaf—these +blue dragon-flies when thus resting curl the tail upwards. +</p> + +<p> +Farther up above the mere there is a spot where the pool itself ends, or rather +imperceptibly disappears among a vast mass of aquatic weeds. To these on the +soft oozy mud succeed acres of sedge and rush and great turfs of greyish grass. +Low willows are scattered about, and alder at the edge and where the ground is +firmer. This is the home of the dragon-flies, of the coots, whose white bald +foreheads distinguish them at a distance, and of the moorhens. +</p> + +<p> +A narrow lane crosses it on a low bank or causeway but just raised above the +level of the floods. It is bordered on either side by thick hawthorn hedges, +and these again are further rendered more impassable by the rankest growth of +hemlocks, “gicks,” nettles, hedge-parsley, and similar coarse +plants. In these the nettle-creeper (white-throat) hides her nest, and they +have so encroached that the footpath is almost threatened. This lane leads from +the Upper Woods across the marshy level to the cornfields, being a branch from +that down which Luke the contractor carried his rabbits. +</p> + +<p> +Now a hare coming from the uplands beyond the woods, or from the woods, and +desirous of visiting the cornfields of the level grounds below, found it +difficult to pass the water. For besides the marsh itself, the mere, and the +brook, another slow, stagnant stream, quite choked with sedges and flags, uncut +for years, ran into it, or rather joined it, and before doing so meandered +along the very foot of the hill-side over which the woods grew. To a hare or a +rabbit, therefore, there was but one path or exit without taking to the water +in this direction for nearly a mile, and that was across this narrow raised +causeway. The pheasants frequently used it, as if preferring to walk than to +fly. Partridges came too, to seat themselves in the dry dust—a thing they +do daily in warm weather. +</p> + +<p> +Hares were constantly passing from the cornfields to the wood, and the wood to +the cornfields; and they had another reason for using this track, because so +many herbs and plants, whose leaves they like better than grass, flourished at +the sides of the hedges. No scythe cuts them down, as it does by the hedges in +the meadows; nor was a man sent round with a reaping hook to chop them off, as +is often done round the arable fields. There was, therefore, always a feast +here, to which, also, the rabbits came. +</p> + +<p> +The poachers were perfectly well aware of all this, and as a consequence this +narrow lane became a most favourite haunt of theirs. A wire set in the runs +that led to the causeway, or in the causeway itself, was almost certain to be +thrown. At one time it was occasionally netted; and now and then a bolder +fellow hid himself in the bushes with a gun, and took his choice of pheasant, +partridge, hare, or rabbit. These practices were possible, because although so +secluded, there was a public right-of-way along the lane. +</p> + +<p> +But of recent years, as game became more valued and the keepers were increased, +a check was put upon it, though even now wires are frequently found which +poachers have been obliged to abandon. They are loth to give up a place that +has a kind of poaching reputation. As if in revenge for the interference, they +have so ransacked the marsh every spring for the eggs of the waterfowl that the +wild duck will not lay there, but seek spots safer from such enemies. The marsh +is left to the coots and moorhens that from thence stock the brooks. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap10"></a>CHAPTER X<br/> +FARMER WILLUM’S PLACE: SNIPE SHOOTING</h2> + +<p> +One October morning towards the end of the month, Orion and I started to beat +over Redcote Farm upon the standing invitation of the occupier. There was a +certainty of sport of some kind, because the place had remained almost +unchanged for the last century. It is “improvement” that drives +away game and necessitates the pheasant preserve. +</p> + +<p> +The low whitewashed walls of the house were of a dull yellowish hue from the +beating of the weather. They supported a vast breadth of thatched roof drilled +by sparrows and starlings. Under the eaves the swallows’ nests adhered, +and projecting shelves were fixed to prevent any inconvenience from them. Some +of the narrow windows were still darkened with the black boarding put up in the +days of the window tax. +</p> + +<p> +In the courtyard a number of stout forked stakes were used for putting the +dairy buckets on, after being cleaned, to dry. No attempt was made to separate +the business from the inner life of the house. Here in front these oaken +buckets, scoured till nearly white, their iron handles polished like silver, +were close under the eyes of any one looking out. By the front door a besom +leaned against the wall that every comer might clean the mud from his boots; +and you stepped at once from the threshold into the sitting-room. A lane led +past the garden, if that could be called a lane which widened into a field and +after rain was flooded so deeply as to be impassable to foot passengers. +</p> + +<p> +The morning we had chosen was fine; and after shaking hands with old Farmer +“Willum,” whose shooting days were over, we entered the lane, and +by it the fields. The meadows were small, enclosed with double-mounds, and +thickly timbered, so that as the ground was level you could not see beyond the +field in which you stood, and upon looking over the gate might surprise a flock +of pigeons, a covey of partridges, or a rabbit out feeding. Though the tinted +leaves were fast falling, the hedges were still full of plants and vegetation +that prevented seeing through them. The “kuck-kuck” of the redwings +came from the bushes—the first note of approaching winter—and the +tips of the rushes were dead. Red haws on the hawthorn and hips on the briar +sprinkled the hedge with bright spots of colour. +</p> + +<p> +The two spaniels went with such an eager rush into a thick double-mound, +dashing heedlessly through the nettles and under the brambles, that we hastened +to get one on each side of the hedge. A rustling—a short bark; another, +then a movement among the rushes in the ditch, evidently not made by the dogs; +then a silence. But the dogs come back, and as they give tongue the rabbit +rushes past a bare spot on the slope of the bank. I fire—a snap +shot—and cut out some fur, but do no further harm; the pellets bury +themselves in the earth. But, startled and perhaps just stung by a stray shot, +the rabbit bolts fairly at last twenty yards in front of Orion, the spaniel +tearing at his heels. +</p> + +<p> +Up goes the double-barrel with a bright gleam as the sunlight glances on it. A +second of suspense: then from the black muzzle darts a cylinder of tawny flame +and an opening cone of white smoke: a sharp report rings on the ear. The rabbit +rolls over and over, and is dead before the dog can seize him. After harling +the rabbit, Orion hangs him high on a projecting branch, so that the man who is +following us at a distance may easily find the game. He is a labourer, and we +object to have him with us, as we know he would be certain to get in the way. +</p> + +<p> +We then tried a corner where two of these large mounds, meeting, formed a small +copse in which grew a quantity of withy and the thick grasses that always +border the stoles. A hare bolted almost directly the dogs went in: hares trust +in their speed, rabbits in doubling for cover. I fired right and left, and +missed: fairly missed with both barrels. Orion jumped upon the mound from the +other side, and from that elevation sent a third cartridge after her. +</p> + +<p> +It was a long, a very long shot, but the hare perceptibly winced. Still, she +drew easily away from the dogs, going straight for a distant gateway. But +before it was reached the pace slackened; she made ineffectual attempts to +double as the slow spaniels overtook her, but her strength was ebbing, and they +quickly ran in. Reloading, and in none of the best of tempers, I followed the +mound. The miss was of course the gun’s fault—it was foul; or the +cartridges, or the bad quality of the powder. +</p> + +<p> +We passed the well-remembered hollow ash pollard, whence, years before, we had +taken the young owls, and in which we had hidden the old single-barrel gun one +sultry afternoon when it suddenly came on to thunder. The flashes were so vivid +and the discharges seemingly so near that we became afraid to hold the gun, +knowing that metal attracted electricity. So it was put in the hollow tree out +of the wet, and with it the powder-flask, while we crouched under an adjacent +hawthorn till the storm ceased. +</p> + +<p> +Then by the much-patched and heavy gate where I shot my first snipe, that rose +out of the little stream and went straight up over the top bar. The emotion, +for it was more than excitement, of that moment will never pass from memory. It +was the bird of all others that I longed to kill, and certainly to a lad the +most difficult. Day after day I went down into the water-meadows; first +thinking over the problem of the snipe’s peculiar twisting flight. At one +time I determined that I would control the almost irresistible desire to fire +till the bird had completed his burst of zig-zag and settled to something like +a straight line. At another I as firmly resolved to shoot the moment the snipe +rose before he could begin to twist. But some unforeseen circumstance always +interfered with the execution of these resolutions. +</p> + +<p> +Now the snipe got up unexpectedly right under foot; now one rose thirty yards +ahead; now he towered straight up, forced to do so by the tall willows; and +occasionally four or five rising together and calling “sceap, +sceap” in as many different directions, made me hesitate at which to aim. +The continual dwelling upon the problem rendered me nervous, so that I scarcely +knew when I pulled the trigger. +</p> + +<p> +But one day, in passing this gateway, which was a long distance from the +particular water-meadows where I had practised, and not thinking of snipes, +suddenly one got up, and with a loud “sceap” darted over the gate. +The long slender gun—the old single-barrel—came to the shoulder +instinctively, without premeditation, and the snipe fell. +</p> + +<p> +Coming now to the brook, which was broad and bordered by a hedge on the +opposite side, I held Orion’s gun while he leaped over. The bank was +steep and awkward, but he had planned his leap so as to alight just where he +could at once grasp an ash branch and so save himself from falling back into +the water. He could not, however, stay suspended there, but had to scramble +over the hedge, and then called for his gun. I leaned mine against a hollow +withy pollard, and called “ready.” +</p> + +<p> +Taking his gun a few inches above the trigger guard (and with the guard towards +his side), holding it lightly just where it seemed to balance in a +perpendicular position, I gave it a slow heave rather than a throw, and it rose +into the air. This peculiar <i>feeling</i> hoist, as it were, caused it to +retain the perpendicular position as it passed over brook and hedge in a low +curve. As it descended it did indeed slope a little, and Orion caught it with +one hand easily. The hedge being low he could see it coming; but guns are +sometimes heaved in this way over hedges that have not been cropped for years. +Then the gun suddenly appears in the air, perhaps fifteen feet high, while the +catch depends not only upon the dexterity of the hand but the ear—to +judge correctly where the person who throws it is standing, as he is invisible. +</p> + +<p> +The spaniels plunged in the brook among the flags, but though they made a great +splashing nothing came of it till we approached a marshy place where was a +pond. A moorhen then rose and scuttled down the brook, her legs dragging along +the surface some distance before she could get up, and the sunshine sparkling +on the water that dropped from her. I fired and knocked her over: at the sound +of the discharge a bird rose from the low mound by the pond some forty yards +ahead. My second barrel was empty in an instant. +</p> + +<p> +Both Orion’s followed; but the distance, the intervening pollard willows, +or our excitement spoilt the aim. The woodcock flew off untouched, and made +straight away from the territories we could beat into those that were jealously +guarded by a certain keeper with whom Farmer “Willum” had waged war +for years. “Come on!” shouted Orion as soon as he had marked the +cock down in a mound two fields away. Throwing him my gun, I leaped the brook; +and we at first raced, but on second thoughts walked slowly, for the mound. +Running disturbs accuracy of fire, and a woodcock was much too rare a visitor +for the slightest chance to be lost. +</p> + +<p> +As we approached we considered that very probably the cock would either lie +close till we had walked past, and get up behind, or he would rise out of +gunshot. What we were afraid of was his making for the preserves, which were +not far off. So we tossed for the best position, and I lost. I had therefore to +get over on the side of the hedge towards the preserves and to walk down +somewhat faster than Orion, who was to keep (on his side) about thirty yards +behind. The object was to flush the cock on his side, so that if missed the +bird might return towards our territories. In a double-mound like this it is +impossible to tell what a woodcock will do, but this was the best thing we +could think of. +</p> + +<p> +About half-way down the hedge I heard Orion fire both barrels in quick +succession—the mound was so thick I could not see through. The next +instant the cock came over the top of the hedge just above my head. Startled at +seeing me so close, he flew straight down along the summit of the +bushes—a splendid chance to look at from a distance; but in throwing up +the gun a projecting briar caught the barrels, and before I could recover it +the bird came down at the side of the hedge. +</p> + +<p> +It was another magnificent chance; but again three pollard willows interfered, +and as I fired the bark flew off one of them in small strips. Quickened by the +whistling pellets, the cock suddenly lifted himself again to the top of the +hedge to go over, and for a moment came full in view, and quite fifty yards +away. I fired a snap shot as a forlorn hope, and lost sight of him; but the +next instant I heard Orion call, “He’s down!” One single +chance pellet had dropped the cock—he fell on the other side just under +the hedge. +</p> + +<p> +We hastened back to the brook, thinking that the shooting would attract the +keepers, and did not stay to look at the bird till safe over the water. The +long beak, the plumage that seems painted almost in the exact tints of the dead +brown leaves he loves so well, the eyes large by comparison and so curiously +placed towards the poll of the head as if to see behind him—there was not +a point that did not receive its share of admiration. We shot about half a +dozen rabbits, two more hares, and a woodpigeon afterwards; but all these were +nothing compared with the woodcock. +</p> + +<p> +How Farmer “Willum” chuckled over it—especially to think that +we had cut out the game from the very batteries of the enemy! It was the one +speck of bitterness in the old man’s character—his hatred of this +keeper. Disabled himself by age and rheumatism from walking far, he heard daily +reports from his men of this fellow coming over the boundary to shoot, or drive +pheasant or partridge away. It was a sight to see Farmer “Willum” +stretch his bulky length in his old armchair, right before the middle of the +great fire of logs on the hearth, twiddling his huge thumbs, and every now and +then indulging in a hearty laugh, followed by a sip at the +“straight-cup.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a stag’s horn over the staircase: “Willum” loved to +tell how it came there. One severe winter long since, the deer in the forest +many miles away broke cover, forced by hunger, and came into the rickyards and +even the gardens. Most of them were got back, but one or two wandered beyond +trace. Those who had guns were naturally on the look-out; indeed, a regular +hunt was got up—“Willum,” then young and active, in it of +course. This chase was not successful; but early one morning, going to look for +wild geese in the water-meadow with his long-barrelled gun, he saw something in +a lonely rickyard. Creeping cautiously up, he rested the heavy gun on an ash +stole, and the big duck-shot tore its way into the stag’s shoulder. Those +days were gone, but still his interest in shooting was unabated. +</p> + +<p> +Nothing had been altered on the place since he was a boy: the rent even was the +same. But all that is now changed—swept away before modern improvements; +and the rare old man is gone too, and I think his only enemy also. +</p> + +<p> +There was nothing I used to look forward to, as the summer waned, with so much +delight as the snipe shooting. Regularly as the swallow to the eaves in spring, +the snipe comes back with the early frosts of autumn to the same well-known +spots—to the bend of the brook or the boggy corner in the ploughed +field—but in most uncertain numbers. Sometimes flocks of ten or twenty, +sometimes only twos and threes are seen, but always haunting particular places. +</p> + +<p> +They have a special affection for peaty ground, black and spongy, where every +footstep seems to squeeze water out of the soil with a slight hissing sound, +and the boot cuts through the soft turf. There, where a slow stream winds in +and out, unmarked by willow or bush, but fringed with green aquatic grasses +growing on a margin of ooze, the snipe finds tempting food; or in the meadows +where a little spring breaks forth in the ditch and does not freeze—for +water which has just bubbled out of the earth possesses this peculiarity, and +is therefore favourable to low forms of insect or slug life in winter—the +snipe may be found when the ponds are bound with ice. +</p> + +<p> +Some of the old country folk used to make as much mystery about this bird as +the cuckoo. Because it was seldom seen till the first fogs the belief was that +it had lost its way in the mist at sea, and come inland by mistake. +</p> + +<p> +Just as in the early part of the year green buds and opening flowers welcome +swallow and cuckoo, so the colours of the dying leaf prepare the way for the +second feathered immigration in autumn. Once now and then the tints of autumn +are so beautiful that the artist can hardly convey what he sees to canvas. The +maples are aglow with orange, the oaks one mass of buff, the limes light gold, +the elms a soft yellow. In the hawthorn thickets bronze spots abound; here and +there a bramble leaf has turned a brilliant crimson (though many bramble leaves +will remain a dull green all the winter through); the edible chestnut sheds +leaves of a dark fawn hue, but all, scattered by the winds, presently resolve +into a black pulp upon the earth. Noting these signs the sportsman gets out his +dust-shot for the snipe, and the farmer, as he sees the fieldfare flying over +after a voyage from Norway, congratulates himself that last month was +reasonably dry, and enabled him to sow his winter seed. +</p> + +<p> +“Sceap—sceap!” and very often the snipe successfully carries +out the intention expressed in his odd-sounding cry, and does escape in +reality. Although I could not at first put my theory into practice, yet I found +by experience that it was correct. He is the exception to the golden rule that +the safest way lies in the middle, and that therefore you should fire not too +soon nor too late, but half-way between. But the snipe must either be knocked +over the instant he rises from the ground, and before he has time to commence +his puzzling zig-zag flight, or else you must wait till he has finished his +corkscrew burst. +</p> + +<p> +Then there is a moment just before he passes out of range when he glides in a +straight line and may be hit. This singular zig-zag flight so deceives the eye +as almost to produce the idea of a spiral movement. No barrel can ever be +jerked from side to side swiftly enough, no hair-trigger is fine enough, to +catch him then, except by the chance of a vast scattering over-charge, which +has nothing to do with sport. If he rises at some little distance, then fire +instantly, because by the time the zig-zag is done the range will be too great; +if he starts up under your feet, out of a bunch of rushes, as is often the +case, then give him law till his eccentric twist is finished. +</p> + +<p> +When the smoke has cleared away in the crisp air, there he lies, the yet warm +breast on the frozen ground, to be lifted up not without a passing pity and +admiration. The brown feathers are exquisitely shaded, and so exactly resemble +the hue of the rough dead aquatic grass out of which he sprang that if you cast +the bird among it you will have some trouble to find it again. To discover a +living snipe on the ground is indeed a test of good eyesight; for as he slips +in and out among the brown withered flags and the grey grass it requires not +only a quick eye but the inbred sportsman’s instinct of perception (if +such a phrase is permissible) to mark him out. +</p> + +<p> +If your shot has missed and merely splashed up the water or rattled against +bare branches, then step swiftly behind a tree-trunk, and stay in ambuscade, +keeping a sharp watch on him as he circles round high up in the air. Very often +in a few minutes he will come back in a wide sweep, and drop scarcely a +gun-shot distant in the same watercourse, when a second shot may be obtained. +The little jack snipe, when flushed, will never fly far, if shot at several +times in succession, still settling fifty or sixty yards farther on, and is +easily bagged. +</p> + +<p> +Coming silently as possible round a corner, treading gently on the grass still +white with hoar-frost in the shadow of the bushes, you may chance to spring a +stray woodcock, which bird, if you lose a moment, will put the hedge between +him and you. Artists used to seek for certain feathers which he carries, one in +each wing, thinking to make of them a more delicate brush than the finest +camel’s hair. +</p> + +<p> +In the evening I used to hide in the osier-beds on the edge of a great +water-meadow; for now that the marshes are drained, and the black earth of the +fens yields a harvest of yellow corn, the broad level meads which are irrigated +to fertilise them are among the chief inland resorts of wild fowl. When the +bright moon is rising, you walk in among the tapering osier-wands, the rustling +sedges, and dead dry hemlock stems, and wait behind an aspen tree. +</p> + +<p> +In the thick blackthorn bush a round dark ball indicates the blackbird, who has +puffed out his feathers to shield him from the frost, and who will sit so close +and quiet that you may see the moonlight glitter on his eye. Presently comes a +whistling noise of wings, and a loud “quack, quack!” as a string of +ducks, their long necks stretched out, pass over not twenty yards high, slowly +slanting downwards to the water. This is the favourable moment for the gun, +because their big bodies are well defined against the sky, and aim can be +taken; but to shoot anything on the ground at night, even a rabbit, whose white +tail as he hops away is fairly visible, is most difficult. +</p> + +<p> +The baffling shadows and the moonbeams on the barrel, and the faint reflection +from the dew or hoar-frost on the grass, prevent more than a general direction +being given to the gun, even with the tiny piece of white paper which some +affix to the muzzle-sight as a guide. From a punt with a swivel gun it is +different, because the game is swimming and visible as black dots on the +surface, and half a pound of shot is sure to hit something. But in the +water-meadows the ducks get among the grass, and the larger water-carriers +where they can swim usually have small raised banks, so that at a distance only +the heads of the birds appear above them. +</p> + +<p> +So that the best time to shoot a duck is just as he slopes down to +settle—first, because he is distinctly visible against the sky; next, +because he is within easy range; and lastly, his flight is steady. If you +attempt to have ducks driven towards you, though they may go right overhead, +yet it will often be too high—for they rise at a sharp angle when +frightened; and men who are excellent judges of distance when it is a hare +running across the fallow, find themselves all at fault trying to shoot at any +elevation. Perhaps this arises from the peculiarity of the human eye which +draughtsmen are fond of illustrating by asking a tyro to correctly bisect a +vertical line: a thing that looks easy, and is really only to be done by long +practice. +</p> + +<p> +To make certain of selecting the right spot in the osiers over which the ducks +will pass, for one or two evenings previously a look-out should be kept and +their usual course observed; for all birds and animals, even the wildest wild +fowl, are creatures of habit and custom, and having once followed a particular +path will continue to use it until seriously disturbed. Evening after evening +the ducks will rise above the horizon at the same place and almost at the same +time, and fly straight to their favourite feeding place. +</p> + +<p> +If hit, the mallard falls with a thud on the earth, for he is a heavy bird; and +few are more worthy of powder and shot either for his savoury flavour, far +surpassing the tame duck, or the beauty of his burnished neck. With the ducks +come teal and widgeon and moorhen, till the swampy meadow resounds with their +strange cries. When ponds and lakes are frozen hard is the best time for sport +in these irrigated fields. All day long the ducks will stand or waddle to and +fro on the ice in the centre of the lake or mere, far out of reach and ready to +rise at the slightest alarm. But at night they seek the meadow where the water, +running swiftly in the carriers, never entirely freezes, and where, if the +shallow spots become ice, the rising current flows over it and floods another +place. +</p> + +<p> +There is, moreover, never any difficulty in getting the game when hit, because +the water, except in the main carriers, which you can leap across, hardly rises +to the ankle, and ordinary water-tight boots will enable you to wade wherever +necessary. This is a great advantage with wild fowl, which are sometimes shot +and lost in deep ooze and strong currents and eddies, and on thin ice where men +cannot go and even good dogs are puzzled. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap11"></a>CHAPTER XI<br/> +FERRETING: A RABBIT-HUNTER</h2> + +<p> +The ferreting season commences when the frosts have caused the leaves to drop, +and the rabbits grow fat from feeding on bark. Early one December morning, +Orion and I started, with our man Little John, to ferret a double-mound for our +old friend Farmer “Willum” at Redcote. +</p> + +<p> +Little John was a labourer—one of those frequently working at odd times +for Luke, the Rabbit-Contractor. We had nicknamed him Little John because of +his great size and unwieldy proportions. He was the most useful man we knew for +such work; his heart was so thoroughly in it. +</p> + +<p> +He was waiting for us before we had finished breakfast, with his tools and +implements, having carefully prepared these while yet it was dark at home in +his cottage. The nets require looking to before starting, as they are apt to +get into a tangle, and there is nothing so annoying as to have to unravel +strings with chilled fingers in a ditch. Some have to be mended, having been +torn; some are cast aside altogether because weak and rotten. The twine having +been frequently saturated with water has decayed. All the nets are of a light +yellow colour from the clay and sand that has worked into the string. +</p> + +<p> +These nets almost filled a sack, into which he also cast a pair of +“owl-catchers,” gloves of stout white leather, thick enough to turn +a thorn while handling bushes, or to withstand the claws of an owl furiously +resisting capture. His ferrets cost him much thought, which to take and which +to leave behind. He had also to be particular how he fed them—they must +be eager for prey, and yet they must not be starved, else they would gorge on +the blood of the first rabbit, and become useless for hunting. +</p> + +<p> +Two had to be muzzled—an operation of some difficulty that generally +results in a scratched hand. A small piece of small but strong twine is passed +through the jaws behind the tusk-like teeth, and tightly tied round, so tightly +as almost to cut into the skin. This is the old way of muzzling a ferret, +handed down from generations: Little John scorns the muzzles that can be bought +at shops, and still more despises the tiny bells to hang round the neck. The +first he says often come off, and the second embarrass the ferret and sometimes +catch in projecting rootlets and hold it fast. He has, too, a line—many +yards of stout twine wound about a short stick—to line a ferret if +necessary. +</p> + +<p> +The ferrets are placed in a smaller bag, tightly tied at the top—for they +will work through and get out if any aperture be left. Inside the bag is a +little hay for them to lay on. He prefers the fitchew ferret as he calls it; +that is the sort that are coloured like a polecat. He says they are fiercer, +larger of make and more powerful. But he has also a couple of white ones with +pink eyes. Besides the sack of nets, the bag of ferrets, and a small bundle in +a knotted handkerchief—his “nuncheon”—which in +themselves make a tolerable load, he has brought a billhook, and a +“navigator,” or draining-tool. +</p> + +<p> +This is a narrow spade of specially stout make; the blade is hollow and +resembles an exaggerated gouge, and the advantage is that in digging out a +rabbit the tool is very apt to catch under a root, when an ordinary spade may +bend and become useless. The “navigator” will stand anything, and +being narrow is also more handy. All these implements Little John has prepared +by the dim light of a horn lantern in the shed at the back of his cottage. A +mug of ale while we get our guns greatly cheers him, and unlooses his tongue. +</p> + +<p> +All the way to Redcote he impresses on us the absolute necessity of silence +while ferreting, and congratulates us on having a nearly still day. He is a +little doubtful about Orion’s spaniel and whether it will keep quiet or +not. +</p> + +<p> +When we reach the double-mound, his talk entirely ceases: he is as silent and +as rugged as a pollard oak. By the top of the mound the sack of nets is thrown +down on the sward and opened. As there are more holes on the other side of the +hedge Orion goes over with Little John, and I proceed to set up the nets on +mine. +</p> + +<p> +I found some difficulty in getting at the bank, the bushes being so thick, and +had to use the billhook and chop a way in: I heard Little John growling about +this in a whisper to Orion. Very often before going with the ferrets, people +send a man or two a few hours previously to chop and clear the bushes. The +effect is that the rabbits will not bolt freely. They hear the men chopping, +and the vibration of the earth as they clumsily climb over the banks, and will +not come out till absolutely forced. If it is done at all, it should be done a +week beforehand. That was why Little John grumbled at my chopping though he +knew it was necessary. +</p> + +<p> +To set up a rabbit net you must arrange it so that it covers the whole of the +mouth of the hole, for if there is any opening between it and the bank the +rabbit will slip through. He will not face the net unless obliged to. Along the +upper part, if the bank is steep, so that the net will not lie on it of itself, +two or three little twigs should be thrust through the meshes into the earth to +suspend it. +</p> + +<p> +These twigs should be no larger than are used by birds in constructing their +nests; just strong enough to hold the net in place and no more. On the other +hand, care must be taken that no stout projecting root catches a corner of the +net, else it will not draw up properly and the rabbit will escape. +</p> + +<p> +Little John, not satisfied with my assurance that I had netted all the holes my +side, now came over—crawling on hands and knees that he might not jar the +bank—to examine for himself. His practised eye detected two holes that I +had missed: one on the top of the mound much overhung by dead grass, and one +under a stole. These he attended to. He then crawled up on the mound two or +three yards below the end of the bury, and with his own hands stretched a +larger net right across the top of the bank, so that if a rabbit did escape he +would run into this. To be still more sure he stretched another similar net +across the whole width of the mound at the other end of the bury. +</p> + +<p> +He then undid the mouth of the ferret-bag, holding it between his +knees—the ferrets immediately attempted to struggle out: he selected two +and then tied it up again. With both these in his own hands, for he would trust +nothing to another, he slipped quietly back to Orion’s side, and so soon +as he saw I was standing well back placed them in different holes. +</p> + +<p> +Almost the next instant one came out my side disarranging a net. I got into the +ditch, hastily reset the net, and put the ferret to an adjacent hole, lifting +up the corner of the net there for it to creep in. Unlike the weasel, a ferret +once outside a hole seems at a loss, and wanders slowly about, till chance +brings him to a second. The weasel used to hunting is no sooner out of one hole +than he darts away to the next. But this power the ferret has partially lost +from confinement. +</p> + +<p> +For a moment the ferret hesitated inside the hole, as if undecided which of two +passages to take: then he started, and I lost sight of his tail. Hardly had I +got back to my stand than I heard Little John leap into the ditch his side: the +next minute I saw the body of the rabbit which he had killed thrown out into +the field. +</p> + +<p> +I stood behind a somewhat advanced bush that came out into the meadow like a +buttress, and kept an eye on the holes along the bank. It is essential to stand +well back from the holes, and, if possible, out of sight. In a few moments +something moved, and I saw the head of a rabbit at the mouth of a hole just +behind the net. He looked through the meshes as through a lattice, and I could +see his nostrils work, as he considered within himself how to pass this thing. +It was but for a moment; the ferret came behind, and wild with hereditary fear, +the rabbit leaped into the net. +</p> + +<p> +The force of the spring not only drew the net together, but dragged out the +peg, and rabbit and net inextricably entangled rolled down the bank to the +bottom of the ditch. I jumped into the ditch and seized the net; when there +came a hoarse whisper: “Look sharp you, measter: put up another net +fust—<i>he</i> can’t get out; hould un under your arm, <i>or in +your teeth</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +I looked up, and saw Little John’s face peering over the mound. He had +thrust himself up under the bushes; his hat was off; his weather-beaten face +bleeding from a briar, but he could not feel the scratch so anxious was he that +nothing should escape. I pulled another net from my pocket, and spread it +roughly over the hole; then more slowly took the rabbit from the other net. +</p> + +<p> +You should never hold a rabbit up till you have got fast hold of his hind legs; +he will so twist and work himself as to get free from any other grasp. But when +held by the hind legs and lifted from the ground he can do nothing. I now +returned to my buttress of bushes and waited. The rabbits did not bolt my side +again for a while. Every now and then I saw, or heard, Orion or Little John +leap into their ditch, and well knew what it meant before the dead rabbit was +cast out to fall with a helpless thud upon the sward. +</p> + +<p> +Once I saw a rabbit’s head at the mouth of a hole, and momentarily +expected him to dart forth driven by the same panic fear. But either the ferret +passed, or there was another side-tunnel—the rabbit went back. Some few +minutes afterwards Little John exclaimed: “Look out, you; ferret’s +out!” One of the ferrets had come out of a hole and was +aimlessly—as it appeared—roaming along the bank. +</p> + +<p> +As he came nearest my side, I got quietly into the ditch and seized him, and +put him into a hole. To my surprise he refused to go in—I pushed him: he +returned and continued to try to come out till I gave him a sharp fillip with +the finger, when he shook the dust and particles of dry earth from his fur with +a shiver, as if in protest, and slowly disappeared inside the hole. +</p> + +<p> +As I was creeping out of the deep ditch on hands and knees, I heard Orion call +angrily to the spaniel to come to heel. Hitherto the spaniel had sat on his +haunches behind Orion fairly quiet and still, though not without an occasional +restless movement. But now he broke suddenly from all control, and disregarding +Orion’s anger—though with hanging tail—rushed into the hedge, +and along the top of the mound where there was a thick mass of dead grass. +Little John hurled a clod of clay at him, but before I was quite out of the +ditch the spaniel gave tongue, and at the same moment I saw a rabbit come from +the ditch and run like mad across the field. +</p> + +<p> +The dog gave chase—I rushed for my gun, which was some yards off, placed +against a hollow withy tree. The haste disconcerted the aim—the rabbit +too was almost fifty yards away when I fired. But the shot broke one hind +leg—it trailed behind—and the spaniel had him instantly. +“Look at yer nets,” said Little John in a tone of suppressed +indignation, for he disliked the noise of a gun, as all other noises. +</p> + +<p> +I did look, and found that one net had been partly pushed aside; yet to so +small an extent that I should hardly have believed it possible for the rabbit +to have crept through. He must have slipped out without the slightest sound and +quietly got on the top of the mound without being seen. But there, alas! he +found a wide net stretched right across the bank so that to slip down the mound +on the top was impossible. This would certainly have been his course had not +the net been there. +</p> + +<p> +It was now doubtless that the spaniel caught wind of him, and the scent was so +strong that it overcame his obedience. The moment the dog got on the bank, the +rabbit slipped down into the rushes in the ditch—I did not see him +because my back was turned in the act to scramble out. Then, directly the +spaniel gave tongue the rabbit darted for the open, hoping to reach the buries +in the hedge on the opposite side of the meadow. +</p> + +<p> +This incident explained why the ferret seemed so loth to go back into the hole. +He had crept out some few moments behind the rabbit and in his aimless +uncertain manner was trying to follow the scent along the bank. He did not like +being compelled to give up this scent and to search again for another. +“Us must be main careful how us fixes our nets, you,” said Little +John, going as far as he could in reproof of my negligence. +</p> + +<p> +The noise of the gun, the barking, and talking was of course heard by the +rabbits still in the bury, and as if to show that Little John was right, for a +while they ceased to bolt. Standing behind the bushes—against which I now +placed the gun to be nearer at hand—I watched the nets till my eye was +caught by the motions of the ferret-bag. It lay on the grass and had hitherto +been inert. But now the bag reared itself up, and then rolled over, to again +rise and again tumble. The ferrets left in it in reserve were eager to get +out—sharp set on account of a scanty breakfast—and their motions +caused the bag to roll along a short distance. +</p> + +<p> +I could see Orion on the other side of the mound tolerably well because he was +standing up and the leaves had fallen from the upper part of the bushes. Little +John was crouched in the ditch: the dead grasses, “gicks,” withered +vines of bryony, the thistles, and dark shrivelled fern concealed him. +</p> + +<p> +There was a round black sloe on the blackthorn beside me, the beautiful gloss, +or bloom, on it made it look like a tiny plum. It tasted not only sour, but +seemed to positively fill the mouth with a rough acid. Overhead light grey +clouds, closely packed but not rainy, drifted very slowly before a N.E. upper +current. Occasionally a brief puff of wind came through the bushes rustling the +dead leaves that still remained on the oaks. +</p> + +<p> +Despite the cold, something of Little John’s intense concentration +communicated itself to us: we waited and watched with eager patience. After a +while he got out of the ditch where he had been listening with his ear close +against the bank, and asked me to pass him the ferret-bag. He took out another +ferret and lined it—that is, attached one end of a long string to its +neck, and then sent it in. +</p> + +<p> +He watched which way the ferret turned, and then again placed his head upon the +hard clay to listen. Orion had to come and hold the line, while he went two or +three yards farther down, got into the ditch and once more listened carefully. +“He be about the middle of the mound you,” he said to me; “he +be between you and I. Lor! look out.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a low rumbling sound—I expected to see a rabbit bolt into one +of my nets, I heard Little John moving some leaves, and then he shouted, +“Give I a net, you—quick. Lor! here be another hole: he’s +coming!” I looked over the mound and saw Little John, his teeth set and +staring at a hole which had no net, his great hands open ready to pounce +instantly like some wild animal on its prey. In an instant the rabbit +bolted—he clutched it and clasped it tight to his chest. There was a +moment of struggling, the next the rabbit was held up for a moment and then +cast across his knee. +</p> + +<p> +It was always a sight to see Little John’s keen delight in +“wristing” their necks. He affected utter unconsciousness of what +he was doing, looked you in the face, and spoke about some indifferent subject. +But all the while he was feeling the rabbit’s muscles stretch before the +terrible grasp of his hands, and an expression of complacent satisfaction +flitted over his features as the neck gave with a sudden looseness, and in a +moment what had been a living straining creature became limp. +</p> + +<p> +The ferret came out after the rabbit; he immediately caught it and thrust it +into his pocket. There were still two ferrets in—one that was suspected +to be gorging on a rabbit in a <i>cul de sac</i>, and the other lined, and +which had gone to join that sanguinary feast. The use of the line was to trace +where the loose ferret lay. “Chuck I the show’l, measter,” +said Little John. +</p> + +<p> +I gave the “navigator” tool a heave over the hedge; it fell and +stuck upright in the sward. Orion handed it to him. He first filled up the hole +from which a rabbit had just bolted with a couple of “spits,” +<i>i.e.</i> spadefuls, and then began to dig on the top of the mound. +</p> + +<p> +This digging was very tedious. The roots of the thorn bushes and trees +constantly impeded it, and had to be cut. Then upon at last getting down to the +hole, it was found that the right place had not been hit by several feet. Here +was the line and the lined ferret—he had got hitched in a projecting +root, and was furiously struggling to go forward to the feast of blood. +</p> + +<p> +Another spell of digging—this time still slower because Little John was +afraid lest the edge of his tool should suddenly slip through and cut his +ferret on the head, and perhaps kill it. At last the place was reached and the +ferret drawn forth still clinging to its victim. The rabbit was almost beyond +recognition as a rabbit. The poor creature had been stopped by a <i>cul de +sac</i>, and the ferret came upon him from behind. +</p> + +<p> +As the hole was small the rabbit’s body completely filled it, and the +ferret could not scramble past to get at the spot behind the ear where it +usually seizes. The ferret had therefore deliberately gnawn away the +hindquarters and so bored a passage. The ferret being so gorged was useless for +further hunting and was replaced in the bag. But Little John gave him a drink +of water first from the bottom of the ditch. +</p> + +<p> +Orion and I, wearied with the digging, now insisted on removing to the next +bury, for we felt sure that the remaining rabbits in this one would not bolt. +Little John had no choice but to comply, but he did so with much reluctance and +many rueful glances back at the holes from which he took the nets. He was sure, +he said, that there were at least half-a-dozen still in the bury: he only +wished he might have all that he could get out of it. But we imperiously +ordered a removal. +</p> + +<p> +We went some thirty yards down the mound, passing many smaller buries, and +chose a spot perfectly drilled with holes. While Little John was in the ditch +putting up nets, we slily undid the ferret-bag and turned three ferrets at once +loose into the holes. “Lor! measter, measter, what be you at?” +cried Little John, quite beside himself. “You’ll spoil all on it. +Lor!” +</p> + +<p> +A sharp report as Orion fired at a rabbit that bolted almost under Little +John’s fingers drowned his remonstrances, and he had to scramble out of +the way quick. Bang! bang! right and left: the firing became rapid. There being +no nets to alarm the rabbits and three ferrets hunting them, they tumbled out +in all directions as fast as we could load. Now the cartridges struck branches +and shattered them. Now the shot flattened itself against sarsen stones +imbedded in the mound. The rabbits had scarce a yard to bolt from one hole to +another, so that it was sharp work. +</p> + +<p> +Little John now gave up all hope, and only pleaded piteously for his ferrets. +“Mind as you doan’t hit ’em, measter; doant’ee shoot +into a hole, you.” For half an hour we had some really good shooting: +then it began to slacken, and we told him to catch his ferrets and go on to the +next bury. I am not sure that he would not have rebelled outright but just then +a boy came up carrying a basket of provisions, and a large earthenware jar with +a bung cork, full of humming ale. Farmer Willum had sent this, and the strong +liquor quite restored Little John’s good humour. It really was +ale—such as is not to be got for money. +</p> + +<p> +The boy said that he had seen Farmer Willum’s hereditary enemy, the +keeper, watching us from his side of the boundary, doubtless attracted by the +sound of the firing. He said also that there was a pheasant in a little copse +beside the brook. We sent him out again to reconnoitre: he returned and +repeated that the keeper had gone, and that he thought he saw him enter the +distant fir plantations. So we left the boy to help Little John at the next +bury—a commission that made him grin with delight, and suited the other +very well, since the noisy guns were going away, and he could use his nets. +</p> + +<p> +We took the lined ferret with us, and started after the pheasant. Just as we +approached the copse, the spaniel gave tongue on the other side of the hedge. +Orion had tied him up to a bush, wishing to leave him with Little John. But the +spaniel tore and twisted till he got loose and had followed us—keeping +out of sight—till now crossing the scent of a rabbit he set up his bark. +We called him to heel, and I am afraid he got a kick. But the pheasant was +alarmed, and rose before we could properly enfilade the little copse, where we +should most certainly have had him. He flew high and straight for the fir +plantations, where it was useless to follow. +</p> + +<p> +However, we leaped the brook and entered the keeper’s territory under +shelter of a thick double-mound. We slipped the lined ferret into a small bury, +and succeeded in knocking over a couple of rabbits. The object of using the +lined ferret was because we could easily recover it. This was pure mischief, +for there were scores of rabbits on our own side. But then there was just a +little spice of risk in this, and we knew Willum would gloat over it. +</p> + +<p> +After firing these two shots we got back again as speedily as possible, and +once more assisted Little John. We could not, however, quite resist the +pleasure of shooting a rabbit occasionally and so tormenting him. We left one +hole each side without a net, and insisted on the removal of the net that +stretched across the top of the bank. This gave us a shot now and then, and the +removal of the cross net allowed the rabbit some little law. +</p> + +<p> +Notwithstanding these drawbacks—to him—Little John succeeded in +making a good bag. He stayed till it was quite dark to dig out a ferret that +had killed a rabbit in the hole. He took his money for his day’s work +with indifference: but when we presented him with two couple of clean rabbits +his gratitude was too much for him to express. The gnawn and +“blown” rabbits [by shot] were his perquisite, the clean rabbits an +unexpected gift. It was not their monetary value; it was the fact that they +were rabbits. +</p> + +<p> +The man’s instinct for hunting was so strong that it seemed to overcome +everything else. He would walk miles—after a long day’s farm +work—just to help old Luke, the rabbit contractor, bring home the rabbits +in the evening from the Upper Woods. He worked regularly for one farmer, and +did his work well: he was a sober man too as men go, that is he did not get +drunk more than once a month. A strong man must drink now and then: but he was +not a sot, and took nine-tenths of his money faithfully home to his wife and +children. +</p> + +<p> +In the winter when farm work is not so pressing he was allowed a week off now +and then, which he spent in ferreting for the farmers, and sometimes for Luke, +and of course he was only too glad to get such an engagement as we gave him. +Sometimes he made a good thing of his ferreting: sometimes when the weather was +bad it was a failure. But although a few shillings were of consequence to him, +it really did not seem to be the money-value but the sport that he loved. To +him that sport was all-absorbing. +</p> + +<p> +His ferrets were well looked after, and he sometimes sold one for a good price +to keepers. As a rule a man who keeps ferrets is suspected: but Little John was +too well understood, and he had no difficulty in begging a little milk for +them. +</p> + +<p> +His tenacity in pursuit of a rabbit was always a source of wonder to me. In +rain, in wind, in frost; his feet up to the ankle in the ice-cold slush at the +bottom of a ditch: no matter what the weather or how rough, he patiently stood +to his nets. I have known him stand the whole day long in a snowstorm—the +snow on the ground and in the holes, the flakes drifting against his +face—and never once show impatience. All he disliked was wind—not +on account of discomfort, but because the creaking of the branches and the +howling of the blast made such a noise that it was impossible to tell where the +rabbit would bolt. +</p> + +<p> +He congratulated himself that evening because he had recovered all his ferrets. +Sometimes one will lie in and defy all efforts to bring it out. One plan is to +place a dead fresh rabbit at the mouth of the hole which may tempt the ferret +to come and seize it. In large woods there are generally one or more ferrets +wandering loose in the season, that have escaped from the keepers or poachers. +</p> + +<p> +If the keeper sees one he tries to catch it; failing that, he puts a charge of +shot into it. Some keepers think nothing of shooting their own ferrets if they +will not come when called by the chirrup with the lips, or displease them in +other ways. They do not care, because they can have as many as they like. +Little John made pets of his: they obeyed him very well as a rule. +</p> + +<p> +Poaching men are sometimes charged with stealing ferrets, <i>i.e.</i> with +picking up and carrying off those that keepers have lost. A ferret is, however, +a difficult thing to identify and swear to. +</p> + +<p> +Those who go poaching with ferrets choose a moonlight night: if it is dark it +is difficult to find the holes. Small buries are best because so much more +easily managed, and the ferret is usually lined. If a large bury is attempted, +they take the first half-dozen that bolt and then move on to another. The first +rabbits come out rapidly; the rest linger as if warned by the fate of their +companions. Instead of wasting time over them it is best to move to another +place. +</p> + +<p> +Unless a keeper should chance to pass up the hedgerow there is comparatively +little risk, for the men are in the ditch and invisible ten yards away under +the bushes and make no noise. It is more difficult to get home with the game: +but it is managed. Very small buries with not more than four or five holes may +be ferreted even on the darkest nights by carefully observing beforehand where +the holes are situate. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap12"></a>CHAPTER XII.<br/> +A WINTER NIGHT: OLD TRICKS: PHEASANT-STALKING: MATCHLOCK <i>versus</i> +BREECH-LOADER: CONCLUSION</h2> + +<p> +When the moon is full and nearly at the zenith it seems to move so slowly that +the shadows scarcely change their position. In winter, when the branches are +bare, a light that is nearly vertical over a tree can cast but little shadow, +and that falls immediately around the trunk. So that the smallness of the +shadow itself and the slowness of its motion together tend to conceal it. +</p> + +<p> +The snow on the ground increases the sense of light, and in approaching the +wood the scene is even more distinct than during the gloomy day. The tips of +the short stubble that has not yet been ploughed in places just protrude above +the surface, and the snow, frozen hard, crunches with a low sound under foot. +But for that all is perfectly still. The level upland cornfields stretch away +white and vacant to the hills—white, too, and clear against the sky. The +plain is silent, and nothing that can be seen moves upon its surface. +</p> + +<p> +On the verge of the wood which occupies the sloping ground there stands a great +oak tree, and down one side of its trunk is a narrow white streak of snow. +Leaning against the oak and looking upwards, every branch and twig is visible, +lit up by the moon. Overhead the stars are dimmed, but they shine more brightly +yonder above the hills. Such leaves as have not yet fallen hang motionless: +those that are lying on the ground are covered by the snow, and thus held fast +from rustling even were the wind to blow. But there is not the least +breath—a great frost is always quiet, profoundly quiet—and the +silence is undisturbed even by the fall of a leaf. The frost that kills them +holds the leaves till it melts, and then they drop. +</p> + +<p> +The tall ash poles behind in the wood stand stark and straight, pointing +upwards, and it is possible to see for some distance between them. No lesser +bats flit to and fro outside the fence under the branches; no larger ones pass +above the tops <i>of</i> the trees. There seems, indeed, a total absence of +life. The pheasants are at roost in the warmer covers; and the woodpigeons are +also perched—some in the detached oaks of the hedgerows, particularly +those that are thickly grown with ivy about the upper branches. Up in the great +beeches the rooks are still and silent; sometimes the boughs are encrusted with +rime about their very claws. +</p> + +<p> +Leaving the oak now and skirting the wood, after a while the meadows on the +lower ground are reached; and here perhaps the slight scampering sound of a +rabbit may be heard. But as they can see and hear you so far in the bright +light and silence, they will most likely be gone before you can get near. They +are restless—very restless; first because of the snow, and next because +of the moonlight. The hares, unable to find anything on the hills or the level +white plain above, have come down here and search along the sheltered hedgerows +for leaf and blade. To-night the rabbits will run almost like the hares, to and +fro, hither and thither. +</p> + +<p> +In the thickest hawthorns the blackbirds and lesser feathered creatures are +roosting, preferring the hedgerow to the more open wood. Some of the lesser +birds have crept into the ivy around the elms, and which crowns the tops of the +withy pollards. Wrens and sparrows have gone to the hayricks, roosting in +little holes in the sides under the slightly projecting thatch. They have taken +refuge too in the nest-holes made in the thatched eaves of the sheds: tits are +there also; and sometimes two or three of the latter are captured at once in +such holes. +</p> + +<p> +A dark line across the lower meadows marks the course of the brook; it is dark +because the snow falling on the water melted. Even now there is a narrow stream +unfrozen; though the banks against which it chafes are hard, and will not take +the impression of the moorhen’s foot. The water-rats that in summertime +played and fed along the margin among the flags are rarely seen in winter. In +walking in daylight by the brook now their plunge into the water will not be +heard, nor can they be seen travelling at the bottom. +</p> + +<p> +They lay up a store of food in a hole away from the stream, generally choosing +the banks or higher ground in the withy-beds—places that are not often +flooded. Their ordinary holes, which are half, and sometimes quite, under +water, will not do for winter; they would be frozen in them, and perhaps their +store of food would be spoiled; besides which the floods cause the stream to +rise above its banks, and they could not exist under water for weeks together. +</p> + +<p> +Still further down, where the wood ends in scattered bushes and withy-beds, the +level shore of the shallow mere succeeds. The once soft, oozy ground is now +firm; the rushes are frozen stiff, and the ice for some distance out is +darkened by the aquatic weeds frozen in it. From here the wood, rising up the +slope, comes into view at once—the dark trees, the ash poles, the distant +beeches, the white crest of the hill—all still and calm under the +moonlight. The level white plain of ice behind stretches away, its real extent +concealed by the islands of withy and the dark pines along the distant shore; +while elsewhere the ice is not distinguishable from the almost equally level +fields that join it. Looking now more closely on the snow, the tracks of hares +and rabbits that have crossed and recrossed the ice are visible. +</p> + +<p> +In passing close to the withy-beds to return to the wood some branches have to +be pushed aside and cause a slight noise. Immediately a crowd of birds rise out +of the withies, where they have been roosting, and scatter into the night. They +are redwings and thrushes; every withy-bed is full of them. After wheeling +about in the air they will presently return—first one, then three or +four, and finally the flock, to their roosting-place. +</p> + +<p> +It is easy now to walk through the wood without making a noise: there is room +to pass between the stoles of ash; and the dead sticks that would have cracked +under foot are covered with snow. But be careful how you step; for in some +places the snow has fallen upon a mass of leaves filling a swampy hollow. Above +there is a thin crust of snow, but under the leaves the oozy ground is still +soft. +</p> + +<p> +Upon the dark pines the snow has lodged, making the boughs bend downwards. +Where the slope becomes a hill the ash stoles and nut-tree bushes are far apart +and thinner, so that there are wide white spaces around them. Regaining now the +top of the hill where the plain comes to the verge of the wood, there is a +clear view down across the ash poles to the withies, the white mere, and the +meadows below. Everywhere silence, stillness, sleep. +</p> + +<p> +In the high trees slumbering creatures; in the hedgerows, in the bushes, and +the withies birds with feathers puffed out, slumbering; in the banks, under the +very ground, dormant animals. A quiet cold that at first does not seem cold +because it is so quiet, but which gradually seizes on and stills the sap of +plants and the blood of living things. A ruthless frost, still, subtle, and +irresistible, that will slay the bird on its perch and weaken the swift hare. +</p> + +<p> +The most cruel of all things this snow and frost, because of the torture of +hunger which the birds must feel even in their sleep. But how beautiful the +round full moon, the brilliant light, the white landscape, the graceful lines +of the pine brought out by the snow, the hills yonder, and the stars rising +above them! +</p> + +<p> +It was on just such a night as this that some years since a most successful +raid was made upon this wood by a band of poachers coming from a distance. The +pheasants had been kept later than usual to be shot by a Christmas party, and +perhaps this had caused a relaxation of vigilance. The band came in a cart of +some kind; the marks of the wheels were found on the snow where it had been +driven off the highway and across a field to some ricks. There, no doubt, the +horse and cart were kept out of sight behind the ricks, while the men, who were +believed to have worn smock-frocks, entered the wood. +</p> + +<p> +The bright moonlight made it easy to find the pheasants, and they were potted +in plenty. Finding that there was no opposition, the gang crossed from the wood +to some outlying plantations and continued their work there. The keeper never +heard a sound. He was an old man—a man who had been on the estate all his +life—and had come in late in the evening after a long round. He sat by +the fire of split logs and enjoyed the warmth after the bitter cold and frost; +and, as he himself confessed, took an extra glass in consideration of the +severity of the weather. +</p> + +<p> +His wife was old and deaf. Neither of them heard the guns nor the dogs. Those +in the kennels close to the cottage, and very likely one or more indoors, must +have barked at the noise of the shooting. But if any dim sense of the uproar +did reach the keeper’s ear he put it down to the moon, at which dogs will +bay. As for his assistants, they had quietly gone home, so soon as they felt +sure that the keeper was housed for the night. Long immunity from attack had +bred over-confidence; the staff also was too small for the extent of the place, +and this had doubtless become known. No one sleeps so soundly as an +agricultural labourer; and as the nearest hamlet was at some distance it is not +surprising that they did not wake. +</p> + +<p> +In the early morning a fogger going to fodder his cattle came across a pheasant +lying dead on the path, the snow stained with its blood. He picked it up, and +put it under his smock-frock, and carried it to the pen, where he hid it under +some litter, intending to take it home. But afterwards, as he crossed the +fields towards the farm, he passed near the wood and observed the tracks of +many feet and a gap in the fence. He looked through the gap and saw that the +track went into the preserves. On second thoughts he went back for the pheasant +and took it to his master. +</p> + +<p> +The farmer, who was sitting down to table, quietly ate his breakfast, and then +strolled over to the keeper’s cottage with the bird. This was the first +intimation: the keeper could hardly believe it, till he himself went down and +followed the trail of foot-marks. There was not the least difficulty in tracing +the course of the poachers through the wood; the feathers were lying about; the +scorched paper (for they used muzzle-loaders), broken boughs, and shot-marks +were all too plain. But by this time the gang were well away, and none were +captured or identified. +</p> + +<p> +The extreme severity of the frost naturally caused people to stay indoors, so +that no one noticed the cart going through the village; nor could the track of +its wheels be discerned from others on the snow of the highway beaten down +firm. Even had the poachers been disturbed, it is doubtful if so small a staff +of keepers could have done anything to stop them. As it was, they not only made +a good haul—the largest made for years in that locality—but quite +spoiled the shooting. +</p> + +<p> +There are no white figures passing through the peaceful wood to-night and +firing up into the trees. It is perfectly still. The broad moon moves slow, and +the bright rays light up tree and bush, so that it is easy to see through, +except where the brambles retain their leaves and are fringed with the dead +ferns. +</p> + +<p> +The poaching of the present day is carried on with a few appliances only. An +old-fashioned poacher could employ a variety of “engines,” but the +modern has scarcely any choice. There was, for instance, a very effective mode +of setting a wire with a springe or bow. A stout stick was thrust into the +ground, and then bent over into an arch. When the wire was thrown it instantly +released the springe, which sprang up and drew it fast round the neck of the +hare or rabbit, whose fore feet were lifted from the earth. Sometimes a growing +sapling was bent down for the bow if it chanced to stand conveniently near a +run. The hare no sooner put her head into the noose than she was suspended and +strangled. +</p> + +<p> +I tried the springe several times for rabbits, and found it answer; but the +poacher cannot use it because it is so conspicuous. The stick itself, rising +above the grass, is visible at some distance, and when thrown it holds the hare +or rabbit up for any one to see that passes by. With a wire set in the present +manner the captured animal lies extended, and often rolls into a furrow and is +further hidden. +</p> + +<p> +The springe was probably last employed by the mole-catchers. Their wooden traps +were in the shape of a small tunnel, with a wire in the middle which, when the +mole passed through, set free a bent stick. This stick pulled the wire and hung +the mole. Such mole-catchers’ bows or springes used to be seen in every +meadow, but are now superseded by the iron trap. +</p> + +<p> +Springes with horsehair nooses on the ground were also set for woodcocks and +for wild ducks. It is said that a springe of somewhat similar construction was +used for pheasants. Horsehair nooses are still applied for capturing +woodpeckers and the owls that spend the day in hollow trees, being set round +the hole by which they leave the tree. A more delicate horsehair noose is +sometimes set for finches and small birds. I tried it for bullfinches, but did +not succeed from lack of the dexterity required. The modes of using bird-lime +were numerous, and many of them are in use for taking song-birds. +</p> + +<p> +But the enclosure of open lands, the strict definition of footpaths, closer +cultivation, and the increased value of game have so checked the +poacher’s operations with nets that in many districts the net may be said +to be extinct. It is no longer necessary to bush the stubbles immediately after +reaping. Brambles are said to have been the best for hindering the net, which +frequently swept away an entire covey, old birds and young together. Stubbles +are now so short that no birds will lie in them, and the net would not be +successful there if it were tried. +</p> + +<p> +The net used to be so favourite an “engine” because partridges and +pheasants will run rather than fly. In the case of partridges the poacher had +first to ascertain the haunt of the covey, which he could do by looking for +where they roost at night: the spot is often worn almost bare of grass and +easily found. Or he could listen in the evening for the calling of the birds as +they run together. The net being set, he walked very slowly down the wind +towards the covey. It could not be done too quietly or gently, because if one +got up all the rest would immediately take wing; for partridges act in concert. +If he took his time and let them run in front of him he secured the whole +number. That was the principle; but the nets were of many kinds: the partridges +were sometimes driven in by a dog. The partridges that appear in the market on +the morning of the 1st of September are said to be netted, though probably by +those who have a right to do so. These birds by nature lend themselves to such +tricks, being so timid. It is said that if continually driven to and fro they +will at last cower, and can be taken by hand or knocked over with a stick. +</p> + +<p> +The sight of a paper kite in the air makes them motionless till forced to rise; +and there was an old dodge of ringing a bell at night, which so alarmed the +covey that they remained still till the net was ready, when a sudden flash of +light drove them into it. Imagine a poacher ringing a bell nowadays! Then, +partridges were peculiarly liable to be taken; now, perhaps, they escape better +than any other kind of game. Except with a gun the poacher can hardly touch +them, and after the coveys have been broken up it is not worth his while to +risk a shot very often. If only their eggs could be protected there should be +little difficulty with partridges. +</p> + +<p> +Pheasants are more individual in their ways, and act less together; but they +have the same habit of running instead of flying, and if a poacher did but dare +he could take them with nets as easily as possible. They form runs through the +woods—just as fowls will wander day after day down a hedge, till they +have made quite a path. So that, having found the run and knowing the position +of the birds, the rest is simplicity itself. The net being stretched, the +pheasants were driven in. A cur dog was sometimes sent round to disturb the +birds. Being a cur, he did not bark, for which reason a strain of cur is +preferred to this day by the mouchers who keep dogs. Now that the woods are +regularly watched such a plan has become impracticable. It might indeed be done +once, but surely not twice where competent keepers were about. +</p> + +<p> +Nets were also used for hares and rabbits, which were driven in by a dog; but, +the scent of these animals being so good, it was necessary to work in such a +manner that the wind might not blow from the net, meeting them as they +approached it. Pheasants, as every one knows, roost on trees, but often do not +ascend very high; and, indeed, before the leaves are off they are said to be +sometimes taken by hand—sliding it along the bough till the legs are +grasped, just as you might fowls perched at night on a rail across the beams of +a shed. +</p> + +<p> +The spot where they roost is easily found out, because of the peculiar noise +they make upon flying up; and with a little precaution the trees may be +approached without startling them. Years ago the poacher carried a sulphur +match and lit it under the tree, when the fumes, ascending, stupefied the +birds, which fell to the ground. The process strongly resembled the way in +which old-fashioned folk stifled their bees by placing the hive at night, when +the insects were still, over a piece of brown paper dipped in molten brimstone +and ignited. The apparently dead bees were afterwards shaken out and buried; +but upon moving the earth with a spade some of them would crawl out, even after +two or three days. +</p> + +<p> +Sulphur fumes were likewise used for compelling rabbits to bolt from their +buries without a ferret. I tried an experiment in a bury once with a mixture +the chief component of which was gunpowder, so managed as to burn slowly and +give a great smoke. The rabbits did, indeed, just hop out and hop in again; but +it is a most clumsy expedient, because the fire must be lit on the windward +side, and the rabbits will only come out to leeward. The smoke hangs, and does +not penetrate into half the tunnels; or else it blows through quickly, when you +must stop half the holes with a spade. It is a wretched substitute for a +ferret. +</p> + +<p> +When cock-fighting was common the bellicose inclinations of the cock-pheasants +were sometimes excited to their destruction. A gamecock was first armed with +the sharp spur made from the best razors, and then put down near where a +pheasant-cock had been observed to crow. The pheasant cock is so thoroughly +game that he will not allow any rival crowing in his locality, and the two +quickly met in battle. Like a keen poniard the game-cock’s spur either +slew the pheasant outright or got fixed in the pheasant’s feathers, when +he was captured. +</p> + +<p> +A pheasant, too, as he ran deeper into the wood upon an alarm, occasionally +found his neck in a noose suspended across his path. For rabbiting, the lurcher +was and is the dog of all others. He is as cunning and wily in approaching his +game as if he had a cross of feline nature in his character. Other dogs trust +to speed; but the lurcher steals on his prey without a sound. He enters into +the purpose of his master, and if any one appears in sight remains quietly in +the hedge with the rabbit or leveret in his mouth till a sign bids him +approach. If half the stories told of the docility and intelligence of the +lurcher are true, the poacher needs no other help than one of these dogs for +ground game. But the dogs called lurchers nowadays are mostly of degenerate and +impure breed; still, even these are capable of a good deal. +</p> + +<p> +There is a way of fishing with rod and line, but without a bait. The rod should +be in one piece, or else a stout one—the line also very strong and short, +the hook of large size. When the fish is discovered the hook is quietly dropped +into the water and allowed to float, in seeming, along, till close under it. +The rod is then jerked up, and the barb enters the body of the fish and drags +it out. +</p> + +<p> +This plan requires, of course, that the fish should be visible, and if +stationary is more easily practised; but it is also effective even against +small fish that swim together in large shoals, for if the hook misses one it +strikes another. The most fatal time for fish is when they spawn: roach, jack, +and trout alike are then within reach, and if the poacher dares to visit the +water he is certain of a haul. +</p> + +<p> +Even in the present day and in the south a fawn is now and then stolen from +parks and forests where deer are kept. Being small, it is not much more +difficult to hide than a couple of hares; and once in the carrier’s cart +and at a little distance no one asks any questions. Such game always finds a +ready sale; and when a savoury dish is on the table those who are about to eat +it do not inquire whence it came any more than the old folk did centuries ago. +A nod and a wink are the best sauce. As the keepers are allowed to sell a +certain number of fawns (or say they are), it is not possible for any one at a +distance to know whether the game was poached or not. An ordinary single-barrel +muzzle-loader of the commonest kind with a charge of common shot will kill a +fawn. +</p> + +<p> +I once started to stalk a pheasant that was feeding in the corner of a meadow. +Beyond the meadow there was a cornfield which extended across to a preserved +wood. But the open stubble afforded no cover—any one walking in it could +be seen—so that the pheasant had to be got at from one side only. It was +necessary also that he should be shot dead without fluttering of wings, the +wood being so near. +</p> + +<p> +The afternoon sun, shining in a cloudless sky—it was a still October +day—beat hot against the western side of the hedge as I noiselessly +walked beside it. In the aftermath, green but flowerless, a small flock of +sheep were feeding—one with a long briar clinging to his wool. They moved +slowly before me; a thing I wanted; for behind sheep almost any game can be +approached. +</p> + +<p> +I have also frequently shot rabbits that were out feeding, by the aid of a herd +of cows. It does not seem to be so much the actual cover as the scent of the +animals; for a man of course can be seen over sheep, and under the legs of +cattle. But the breath and odour of sheep or cows prevent the game from +scenting him, and, what is equally effective, the cattle, to which they are +accustomed, throw them off their guard. +</p> + +<p> +The cart-horses in the fields do not answer so well: if you try to use one for +stalking, unless he knows you he will sheer off and set up a clumsy gallop, +being afraid of capture and a return to work. But cows will feed steadily in +front, and a flock of sheep, very slowly driven, move on with a gentle +“tinkle, tinkle.” Wild creatures show no fear of what they are +accustomed to, and the use of which they understand. +</p> + +<p> +If a solitary hurdle be set up in a meadow as a hiding-place from behind which +to shoot the rabbits of a burrow, not one will come out within gun-shot that +evening. They know-that it is something strange, the use of which they do not +understand and therefore avoid. When I first began to shoot, the difficulty was +to judge the distances, and to know how far a rabbit was from a favourite +hiding-place. I once carefully dropped small green boughs, just broken off, at +twenty, thirty, and forty yards, measuring by paces. This was in the morning. +</p> + +<p> +In the evening not a rabbit would come out anywhere near these boughs; they +were shy of them even when the leaves had withered and turned brown; so that I +took them away. Yet of the green boughs blown off by a gale, or the dead grey +branches that fall of their own weight, they take no notice. +</p> + +<p> +First, then, they must have heard me in their burrows pacing by; secondly, they +scented the boughs as having been handled, and connected the two circumstances +together; and, thirdly, though aware that the boughs themselves were harmless, +they felt that harm was intended. The pheasant had been walking about in the +corner where the hedges met, but now he went in; still, as he entered the hedge +in a quiet way, he did not appear to be alarmed. The sheep, tired of being +constantly driven from their food, now sheered out from the hedge, and allowed +me to go by. +</p> + +<p> +As I passed I gathered a few haws and ate them. The reason why birds do not +care much for berries before they are forced to take to them by frost is +because of the stone within, so that the food afforded by the berries is really +small. Yew-berries are an exception; they have a stone, but the covering to it +is sweet, succulent, and thick, and dearly loved by thrushes. In the ditch the +tall grasses, having escaped the scythe, bowed low with the weight of their own +awn-like seeds. +</p> + +<p> +The corner was not far off now; and I waited awhile behind a large hawthorn +bush growing on the “shore” of the ditch, thinking that I might see +the pheasant on the mound, or that at least he would recover confidence if he +had previously heard anything. Inside the bush was a nest already partly filled +with fallen leaves, like a little basket. +</p> + +<p> +A rabbit had been feeding on the other side, but now, suspicious, came over the +bank, and, seeing me, suddenly stopped and lifted himself up. In that moment I +could have shot him, being so near, without putting the gun to the shoulder, by +the sense of direction in the hands; the next he dived into a burrow. Looking +round the bush, I now saw the pheasant in the hedge, that crossed at right +angles in front; this was fortunate, because through that hedge there was +another meadow. It was full of nut-tree bushes, very tall and thick at the top, +but lower down thin, as is usually the case when poles grow high. To fill the +space a fence had been made of stakes and bushes woven between them, and on +this the pheasant stood. +</p> + +<p> +It was too far for a safe shot; in a minute he went down into the meadow on the +other side. I then crept on hands and knees towards the nut-bushes: as I got +nearer there was a slight rustle and a low hiss in the grass, and I had to +pause while a snake went by hastening for the ditch. A few moments afterwards, +being close to the hedge, I rose partly up, and looked carefully over the fence +between the hazel wands. There was the pheasant not fifteen yards away, his +back somewhat towards me, and quietly questing about. +</p> + +<p> +In lifting the gun I had to push aside a bough—the empty hoods, from +which a bunch of brown nuts had fallen, rested against the barrel as I looked +along it. I aimed at the head—knowing that it would mean instant death, +and would also avoid shattering the bird at so short a range; besides which +there would be fewer scattered feathers to collect and thrust out of sight into +a rabbit bury. A reason why people frequently miss pheasants in cover-shooting, +despite of their size, is because they look at the body, the wings, and the +tail. But if they looked only at the head, and thought of that, very few would +escape. My finger felt the trigger, and the least increase of pressure would +have been fatal; but in the act I hesitated, dropped the barrel, and watched +the beautiful bird. +</p> + +<p> +That watching so often stayed the shot that at last it grew to be a habit: the +mere simple pleasure of seeing birds and animals, when they were quite +unconscious that they were observed, being too great to be spoilt by the +discharge. After carefully getting a wire over a jack; after waiting in a tree +till a hare came along; after sitting in a mound till the partridges began to +run together to roost; in the end the wire or gun remained unused. The same +feeling has equally checked my hand in legitimate shooting: time after time I +have flushed partridges without firing, and have let the hare bound over the +furrow free. +</p> + +<p> +I have entered many woods just for the pleasure of creeping through the brake +and the thickets. Destruction in itself was not the motive; it was an +overpowering instinct for woods and fields. Yet woods and fields lose half +their interest without a gun—I like the power to shoot, even though I may +not use it. The very perfection of our modern guns is to me one of their +drawbacks: the use of them is so easy and so certain of effect that it takes +away the romance of sport. +</p> + +<p> +There could be no greater pleasure to me than to wander with a matchlock +through one of the great forests or wild tracts that still remain in England. A +hare a day, a brace of partridges, or a wild duck would be ample in the way of +actual shooting. The weapon itself, whether matchlock, wheel-lock, or even a +cross-bow, would be a delight. Some of the antique wheel-lock guns are really +beautiful specimens of design. The old powder-horns are often gems of +workmanship—hunting scenes cut out in ivory, and the minutest detail of +hoof or antler rendered with life-like accuracy. How pleasant these carvings +feel to the fingers! It is delightful to handle such weapons and such +implements. +</p> + +<p> +The matchlocks, too, are inlaid or the stocks carved. There is slaughter in +every line of our modern guns—mechanical slaughter. But were I offered +participation in the bloodiest battue ever arranged, or the freedom of an +English forest or mountain tract, to go forth at any time untrammelled by +attendant, but only to shoot with matchlock, wheel-lock, or cross-bow, my +choice would be unhesitating. +</p> + +<p> +There would be pleasure in winding up the lock with the spanner; pleasure in +adjusting the priming; or with the matchlock in lighting the match. To wander +out into the brake, to creep from tree to tree so noiselessly that the +woodpecker should not cease to tap—in that there is joy. The +consciousness that everything depends upon your own personal skill, and that +you have no second resource if that fails you, gives the real zest to sport. +</p> + +<p> +If the wheel did not knock a spark out quickly; if the priming had not been +kept dry or the match not properly blown, or the cross-bow set exactly +accurate, then the care of approach would be lost. You must hold the gun +steady, too, while the slow priming ignites the charge. +</p> + +<p> +An imperfect weapon—yes; but the imperfect weapon would accord with the +great oaks, the beech trees full of knot-holes, the mysterious thickets, the +tall fern, the silence and the solitude. The chase would become a real chase: +not, as now, a foregone conclusion. And there would be time for pondering and +dreaming. +</p> + +<p> +Let us be always out of doors among trees and grass, and rain and wind and sun. +There the breeze comes and strikes the cheek and sets it aglow: the gale +increases and the trees creak and roar, but it is only a ruder music. A calm +follows, the sun shines in the sky, and it is the time to sit under an oak, +leaning against the bark, while the birds sing and the air is soft and sweet. +By night the stars shine, and there is no fathoming the dark spaces between +those brilliant points, nor the thoughts that come as it were between the fixed +stars and landmarks of the mind. +</p> + +<p> +Or it is the morning on the hills, when hope is as wide as the world; or it is +the evening on the shore. A red sun sinks, and the foam-tipped waves are +crested with crimson; the booming surge breaks, and the spray flies afar, +sprinkling the face watching under the pale cliffs. Let us get out of these +indoor narrow modern days, whose twelve hours somehow have become shortened, +into the sunlight and the pure wind. A something that the ancients called +divine can be found and felt there still. +</p> + +<p class="center">THE END +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13730 ***</div> +</body> + +</html> + + |