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diff --git a/old/66885-0.txt b/old/66885-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 9cd422b..0000000 --- a/old/66885-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9133 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Gamekeeper's Note-book, by Owen -Jones - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: A Gamekeeper's Note-book - -Authors: Owen Jones - Marcus Woodward - -Release Date: December 4, 2021 [eBook #66885] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Tim Lindell, T. Cosmas and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by The - Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A GAMEKEEPER'S -NOTE-BOOK *** - - - - - -Transcriber's Note - -Text emphasis represented as _Italics_. - - - - - A GAMEKEEPER'S - NOTE-BOOK - -[Illustration: A PIPE OF PEACE - -LONDON, EDWARD ARNOLD.] - - - - - A GAMEKEEPER'S - NOTE-BOOK - - BY - OWEN JONES - AUTHOR OF "TEN YEARS' GAMEKEEPING" - - AND - - MARCUS WOODWARD - JOINT AUTHOR OF "WOODCRAFT" - - - _WITH PHOTOGRAVURE ILLUSTRATIONS_ - - SECOND IMPRESSION - - - LONDON - EDWARD ARNOLD - 1910 - - [_All rights reserved_] - - - - -PREAMBLE - - -A gamekeeper's notes are written for the most part on the tablets of -his mind. He is a man of silence; yet he is ever ready to unlock the -casket of his memories if old friends, and sympathetic, are about him. -We have known keepers who could talk, when so minded, as well as they -could shoot, making their points as certainly as they would bowl over -any straying cat that crossed their paths. But few keepers can handle -a pen with the same confidence as a gun. Some keepers, it is true, -carry note-books, and therein make certain brief notes--simple records -and plain statements of fact, interesting enough to glance over, but -nothing to read. - -The vermin bag has an honourable place in these notes--year by year the -keeper may set down precisely how many malefactors (and others) have -fallen to his gun and traps. It is a record in which he takes almost as -much pride as in his daily and yearly lists of game; the grand total -of a good season for game or vermin lingers for ever on his lips. The -date of a shoot, the beat, the number and names of the guns, and what -luck befell them, all may be noted with scrupulous care, with a word -about the weather, perhaps, and possibly also on the benefits in cash -received by the keeper at the day's end. Many carry little pocket -note-books wherein they keep an account of dates and places--the date -of all dates in the year being, of course, that on which the first wild -pheasant's egg was found among the primroses. A page of the book may be -filled with the names and nicknames of poachers caught, and a record of -their transgressions and penalties. For the rest, for all the details, -that should clothe the nakedness of these briefly written words, one -must go to the keeper's mind. And the best of all a keeper's notes are -the ones he never jots down. - -In this book the notes set out are culled chiefly from a series of -genuine note-books, covering a certain keeper's ten years' experience -of gamekeeping and life-long experience in woodcraft: we have taken -the rough jottings of his pocket-books, and have done our best with -thoughts and memories to sketch in the foreground and background of -his facts. Where he has merely noted, "April --, first wild pheasant's -egg seen," we have tried to picture him as he set out hopefully -expectant, and to describe his feelings as he found that egg, to him -more precious than all others of the year. Where, again, he only says, -"Saw cubs at play," we have sympathised with him as he noted what wings -of partridges and pheasants, what legs of hares and bones of rabbits, -littered the playground. - -An abundant source of incident and story we have found in our dealings -with many good gamekeeper friends, old men and young, some of them -locally renowned as "characters," and all good sportsmen. We have -elaborated many a note on gamekeepers themselves, about their wives and -children, their cottages, their dreams, their ways of speech and their -philosophic sayings, matters which no keeper would trouble to record. - -Should we be pressed to name the original author of the note-books -from which our memories have been mainly refreshed, we should have to -name one of ourselves: we would be excused. Together, we share the -recollection of glad companionship through many a long day and night; -and, above all, that magic interest in the countless phases of a -gamekeeper's life and work covered by that wide word, Woodcraft. - -Our notes appeared originally in the Saturday editions of the _Evening -Standard and St. James's Gazette_, in which journal they have long been -and are still a regular feature: we thank the editor for permission -to publish them in the present form. We are indebted to the editor of -_Pearson's Magazine_ for permission to reproduce the two bird-pictures -by Mr. Frank Southgate, R.B.A. - - O. J. and M. W. - -_September 1910._ - - - - -LIST OF CONTENTS - - -SPRING - - PAGE - - The Keeper's Lot 1 - Perquisites 2 - Pets at the Cottage 3 - Wood-Pigeons 4 - The Keeper's Larder 5 - Homely Medicines 7 - The Earth-Stoppers' Feast 8 - The Keeper's Garden 9 - Keepers' Holidays 12 - An Advantage of Marriage 13 - The Keeper seeks a New Berth 14 - In North and South 15 - Poachers-- 15 - And their Dogs 16 - Perfect Obedience 17 - The Black List 18 - A South-Country Record 19 - Woodland Gallows 20 - The Gallows Martyrs 21 - Once Trapped, Twice Shy 22 - Cunning Trappers 23 - The Time to Catch a Weasel 24 - Changes of Coats 25 - The Vermin Bag 26 - The Ways of Squirrels 27 - The Squirrel's Appetite 28 - The Departure of Cats 29 - Skeletons and Cobwebs 30 - The Persecuted Magpie 31 - The Merciful Trap 32 - The Rabbit in a Snare 33 - The Sleep of Birds 34 - Animals at Rest 36 - Vigilant Fulfers 37 - The Eyes of Wild Creatures 38 - The Season's End 39 - Beaters' Sport 41 - Tailless Cocks 43 - Preparations 44 - Hungry Rabbits 44 - To Save Underwood 45 - Studies in Fear 46 - The Rookery 48 - When Rooks Build 49 - Ways of the Crows 49 - The Crow as Terrorist 51 - Imperial Rooks 51 - Rook-Pie 52 - Birds for Stock 53 - Old Hens 55 - A Gamekeeping Problem 56 - The Hare Poacher 57 - March Hares 58 - The Cubs' Birthday 59 - Courtiers in Pens 60 - When Hawks Nest 62 - Love-Dances 63 - Names that Puzzle Cockneys 63 - Hares and their Young 66 - Starving Birds 67 - The Egg of Eggs 68 - Pheasants' Eggs 69 - Hens in Cocks' Feathers 71 - About Nesting Pheasants 71 - The Broody Hen 73 - The Frenchmen's Nests 76 - The Last of the Hurdlers 77 - Hurdlers' Science 78 - The Woodman 79 - A Dying Race 79 - Choice Nesting-Places 80 - Hidden Nests 81 - A Mutual Understanding 82 - Many Guardians 82 - Mark's Day 84 - The Old, Old Story 85 - The Luck of Pheasant-Rearing 86 - From Egg to Larder 88 - Fine Eggs and good Mothers 88 - The Cub-Stealing Shepherd 89 - Lures and Charms 90 - The Law and the Peewit 92 - The Partridge and the Peewit 93 - A Friend to Agriculture 93 - The Rats in the Stacks 94 - Thoughts on Rat-hunting 95 - When Cats are Angered 96 - Hunters' Thirst 96 - Life-in-Death 97 - Ideal Ratters 98 - Ratting without Ferrets 100 - -SUMMER - - A Keeper Chorister 103 - Velveteens 104 - Owls and Hawks 105 - The Bold Sparrow-Hawk 106 - Nest and Young 108 - The Keeper Outwitted 110 - A Jackdaw Nursery 111 - Detective Work 112 - Cattle in the Woods 112 - A Tragedy of the Woodlands 114 - Fox and Partridge 114 - A Study in Perseverance 115 - The Hut in the Woods 116 - Pheasant Chicks 117 - The Roosting Habit 119 - The Badger's Stealth 121 - To Attract Bullfinches 123 - Bird Warnings 123 - A Rabbit's Fates 124 - Game-Birds and Motors 125 - Mysteries of the Nightjar 126 - The Razor-grinder 127 - A Ventriloquist 127 - The Cock and the Hen 129 - On Finding Feathers 130 - When the Dog's Asleep 131 - A Story of Rats 132 - Blood and Water 133 - The Untimely Opening 134 - 'Ware Wire 135 - Witless Pheasants 135 - Nature's Laws 136 - The Partridge June 137 - Favoured Pheasants 138 - A Covey of Ancients 140 - Keepers' Woe 141 - Red-Legs 141 - Water for Game-Birds 142 - Ideal Coverts 144 - The Thrist of Rabbits 145 - Puppies at Walk 145 - Schooling the Puppies 147 - Dogs' Noses 148 - The Thief of the World 149 - The Cubs' Playground 151 - A Fox's Feat 152 - Dog-Washing Days 153 - Shame-faced Cocks 155 - The Turtle-Dove's Summer 157 - The Lagging Landrail 157 - The Truce Ends 159 - The Thieving Jay 160 - The Oldest Writing 161 - Prospects 162 - Useful Work by Game-Birds 163 - Life of the Cornfield 164 - The Keeper's Hopes 165 - Finding the Fox 167 - Harvest Sport 167 - The Luck of the Game 169 - Rabbit-Catchers' Craft 170 - Among the Corn 172 - The Last to Leave 172 - In the Woods 172 - Weasel Families 173 - Mother Stoat 174 - Lurking-Places 176 - Studies in Stoat Ways 177 - The First 179 - Early Birds 179 - Walking-up 180 - Thoughts on Cubbing 181 - Wines of the Country 183 - - -AUTUMN - - The Verdict of the Season 185 - Weather to pray for 187 - After the Opening 187 - An October Day 188 - Low Flight and High 189 - Wily Grouse Cocks 189 - Rewards for Cubs 190 - "Various"--the Landrail 191 - Sport amid the Shocks 192 - "Mark" 193 - The Keeper's Dogs 195 - Woodcock Owls 196 - Dogs that Despise Woodcock 196 - Pets of Pigs 198 - Some Deals in Dogs 199 - Marked Birds 200 - Colour-Changes in Feathers 200 - Nature's Healing 201 - A Little Story 202 - Accidents to Hares 202 - Hares no longer Speedy 203 - Starling Hosts 204 - Trials of a Copser 205 - Wild Birds in Cages 205 - Truffles 206 - Retriever's Usefulness 206 - Nuts and Mice 207 - The Hand of Time 209 - The Keeper grows Old 210 - Rabbit Ways in Autumn 211 - The Rabbits' House-cleaning 212 - The Guileless Countryman 213 - Sporting Policemen 214 - The Woodcraft of Gipsies 215 - Gipsy Lies 217 - Long-netters 219 - Training Rabbits 219 - Why Birds Flock 221 - The Companies of Rats 222 - The Fall 223 - Late and Early Autumns 223 - Hares in the Garden 224 - Food for Pheasants 225 - The Lingering Leaves 226 - Planning Big Shoots 227 - Plots and Counter-Plots 228 - Indian Summer 229 - Winter Sleep 230 - A Dish of Hedgehog 231 - - -WINTER - - Rustic Wit 233 - The Oak City 233 - Acorns 234 - Plump Rabbits 236 - The Stoat's Hunting 237 - Mysteries of Scent 238 - The Axe in the Coverts 241 - The Uses of Underwood 242 - The Tipping System 243 - Free Suppers for the Fox 245 - Clues to the Thief 246 - Muzzled by a Snare 247 - Cunning Rascals 248 - A Hunting Argument 249 - The Clever Terrier 251 - Born Retrieving 252 - Some Sporting Types 252 - Victims of Wire 253 - Stoat or Weasel? 253 - "The Horrid Badger" 254 - Chalk-Pit Haunts 255 - When the Fox sleeps 255 - When Ferret meets Fox 256 - February Rabbits 257 - The Moucher's Excuse 257 - When Hounds come 258 - When Hounds are gone 259 - Poachers' Weapons 260 - Moles' Skins for Furs 261 - Covert-shooting Problems 262 - "Cocks only"--to compromise 262 - What a Cat may kill 263 - A Cockney Story 264 - Hares in Small Holdings 265 - The Sins of the Father 266 - The Pheasants' Roosting-Trees 267 - The Fox in the Storm 268 - Foxes at Pheasant Shoots 268 - Pheasants that go to Ground 269 - Pheasants' Doomsday 270 - The Hungry Retriever 270 - The Old Wood 271 - Memories of Muzzle-loaders 272 - Relics of the Great Days 273 - Cleaning a Muzzle-loader 274 - The Knowing Beater 275 - Old Friends 276 - What Shepherds enjoy 277 - Lives of Labour 277 - In the Folds 278 - Shepherds' Care 279 - Winter Partridge-driving 279 - The Fear of Snow 281 - Hard-Weather Prophets 282 - Weather-wise Beasts and Birds 282 - Green Winters 284 - What Rainy Days bring 285 - Cubs at Christmas 286 - Work for Rainy Days 287 - The Old Lumber 288 - When Foxes mate 289 - A Keeper's Dreams 290 - A Death-bed Vision 291 - Christmas Sport 292 - Cunning Cock Pheasants 293 - A Dish of Greens 293 - Christmas Shoots 294 - Woodcock Talk 295 - Spare the Hens 296 - A Free-and-Easy 297 - A Keeper's Ghost-Story 298 - Old Friends in Velveteen 300 - The Converted Shepherd 302 - A Final Story 302 - Careful Wives 303 - "What Her was Like" 304 - -Index 305 - - - - - -LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS - - - _To face - Page_ - - A Pipe of Peace _Frontispiece_ - - Spring's Looking-glass 40 - - Hampshire Hurdles 78 - - The Long Day Closes 134 - - Starlings Roosting on Reeds 204 - _From a Drawing by Frank Southgate, R.B.A._ - - Peewits in Winter 280 - _From a Drawing by Frank Southgate, R.B.A._ - - - - -SPRING - - -The Keepers' Lot - -The position of a gamekeeper in England is a curious one. Admittedly -he is among the most skilled and highly trained workers of the -countryside. His intimate knowledge of wild life commands respect. -Often he is much more than a careful and successful preserver of -game--a thoroughly good sportsman, a fine shot. His work carries heavy -responsibility; as whether a large expenditure on a shooting property -brings good returns--and on him depends the pleasure of many a sporting -party. On large estates he is an important personage--important to -the estate owner, to the hunt, to the farm bailiff, and to a host of -satellites. His value is proved by the many important side-issues of -his work--dog-breeding and dog-breaking, or the breaking of young -gentlemen to gun work. Yet, in spite of the honourable and onerous -nature of his calling, he is paid in cash about the same wage as a -ploughman. - - * * * * * - - -Perquisites - -The actual wages of a first-class gamekeeper may be no more than a -pound a week. A system has sprung up by which he receives, in addition -to wages, many recompenses in kind, while his slender pay is fortified -by the tips of the sportsman to whom he ministers. This system has bred -in him a kind of obsequiousness--he is dependent to a great extent on -charity. With a liberal employer he may be well off, and all manner of -good things may come his way; but with a mean employer the perquisites -of his position may be few and far between. - -At the best, he may live in a comfortable cottage, rent free. His coal -is supplied to him without cost, and wood from the estate. Milk is -drawn freely from the farm--or he may have free pasturage for a cow -of his own. A new suit of clothes is presented to him each year. He -may keep pigs for his own use, usually at his own expense, but this -is a small item, and even here he may be helped out by a surplus of -pig-food from the kitchen of the house or from the farms. He has a -fair chance to make money by dog-breeding and exhibiting. Then there -is vermin and rabbit money which he earns as extra pay, and useful -sums may flow into his pocket from the hunt funds. He may keep fowls -at his employer's expense, and if not solely for his own use, he has -the privilege of a proportion of the eggs, and a reasonable number of -the chickens may be roasted or boiled for his own table. The estate -gardeners aid him with his gardening operations, and many surplus -plants and seeds find their way into his plot. To rabbits he may help -himself freely, also to rooks and pigeons. After each shooting party -his employer--if a generous master--invites him to take home a brace of -pheasants and a hare; and there may be other ways in which game comes -to his larder. Commissions and fees of various indeterminate sorts may -swell his coffers. All kinds of supplies he secures, if not freely, -at reduced prices. And always there is the harvest of tips. Clearly -there is every chance for a gamekeeper to receive charity of some form -or another, if it is not always offered; and this must tend to weaken -that independence which is found by the man who is paid for his labour -fairly and squarely in cash. - - * * * * * - - -Pets at the Cottage - -One usually sees a pretty assortment of pets about the keeper's -cottage, where there are children. The keeper himself is not above a -pet animal, though he may not confess it--and, strange to say, the -keeper's favourite is often a cat. But you may be sure it is a cat -among cats, and without sin--an expert among rats, mice, and sparrows, -yet able to sit for hours on the hole of a rabbit, or alone with a -canary, and not yield to temptation. At one keeper's cottage a dormouse -is to be seen--at this season he is broader than he is long. Here -lives "Billy," a buff bantam cock, who will sit on your knee and take -a mouthful of bread from your lips; here also is "Tommy," a game-cock, -who takes lunch and tea on the inside of the kitchen window-ledge; and -here is "Sally," a goose that will lay more than threescore eggs in the -spring, lives on grass, likes to explore the cottage's interior, and -puts all the dogs to shame as a guard, loudly proclaiming the arrival -of strangers. In a coop on a lawn lives a white rabbit, whose mission -in life is to keep the grass short; this rabbit will not look at a -carrot, but rejoices in bread and milk, and above all in cold chicken. -In the yard is a retriever, who is always careful to offer you her -right paw in greeting, loves blackberries, and is the special friend -of a little terrier. Once there was a pet lamb. On many a little rough -grassy grave the keeper's child places wreaths of wild flowers. - - * * * * * - - -Wood-Pigeons - -The shooting of pigeons is the keeper's special feather-sport--he is -always on the spot to take advantage of favourable circumstances. It -goes on in summer as in winter, and remembering the tremendous amount -of damage done to pea-fields, corn crops and roots by pigeons, there -is a justification for this shooting which cannot be urged in favour -of pheasant-shooting. The keeper understands the sport. He knows the -pigeons' habits and feeding times, and that concealment is the secret -of success. Lying at ease on the ground, with his back to a tree-trunk, -he waits in all patience for the pigeons to come to their favourite -trees. Or, having noted the part of the feeding-field where the birds -alight, he conceals himself in a hedge, or behind bushes arranged by -himself, so that from his butt he can shoot comfortably at any bird -within range. As birds are shot he sets them up as decoys. A stick -about nine inches long is put in the ground, and one pointed end -inserted in the pigeon's throat, the bird being set up in a life-like -way. Knowing that they are thirsty birds, especially when feeding on -the ripe, hard grain, he builds a hut near the pond where the pigeons -drink, and if he cannot see them on the ground or in the trees, creeps -out to stalk them, and the shots they give as they rise, diving and -turning in all directions, are such that no one need despise. - - * * * * * - - -The Keeper's Larder - -Wood-pigeons are among the gamekeeper's perquisites. Apart from a very -occasional request from "the house" for the wherewithal for pigeon-pie, -the pigeons shot are for the benefit of the keeper and his family, and -when he shoots more than he requires there are always labourers and -others glad of a pigeon or two "to make a pudden." Rabbits, also, are -perquisites, but to be sold no more than pigeons. The popular idea is -that keepers may help themselves to any game they please--true, they -could if so minded. But no matter what a keeper's ethics in other -directions, as a rule he deals honourably with the game in his charge. -The keeper has no more right to take a brace of birds or a hare without -permission than has an ironmonger's assistant to take a coal-scuttle. -There is little to be said against the keeper making use of game -killed, but not eaten, by foxes or vermin, or of chance-killed game -unsuitable for his employer's table. One old keeper was so anxious to -make every available pheasant figure in the game-book that he would -never keep the brace given him at the end of a day's shooting. Instead, -he would include the birds with the bag on the following day, and this -he would do day after day. - -Free though they are to kill and cook rabbits, few keepers care for -them, or eat them often. Most keepers, indeed, would be as pleased to -go to penal servitude, or to live in London, as to eat rabbits more -often than once a month. This is not because they have eaten too many, -but because the smell of rabbits has become distasteful. However, -rabbits prove a great help to the keeper with children to feed. Usually -his larder is well stocked, and his good-wife has a store of all kinds -of dainties in her cupboards--from home-made pickles to home-brewed -wine. Often your keeper is a clever gardener; he takes prizes for his -vegetables, and he will grow fine cucumbers and even melons under -fragments of glass. Something of a cook himself, well accustomed to -preparing luxurious meals for his sacred birds, he is a judge of cooks -and cooking, as many a keeper's wife has discovered. If she does not -know, he can tell her how to prepare a savoury dish which shall have -the special advantages of not spoiling through being kept warm or from -being warmed up--for the keeper's dinner is a movable feast, and must -be ready at any time between noon and night. The sheet-anchor of one -such dish is proper home-cured bacon, in winter baked in a pie-dish -with alternate layers of parboiled potatoes, for which in summer the -contents of eggs beaten just enough to blend the yolks and whites are -substituted. Served with new potatoes, it is the very dish to put heart -in a man. - - * * * * * - - -Homely Medicines - -The gamekeeper is among the few people left in the country who have -any knowledge of herb-lore, and faith in home-brewed herbal remedies. -His medicine-chest contains a varied assortment. From rose-pink -centaury he boils an appetising tonic for his pheasants, which he is -not above drinking himself. The roots of couch-grass provide him with -a powerful emetic for dogs in the first stages of distemper. He bakes -acorns, grinds them to powder, and with its aid quells a rebellious -stomach. His good-wife has the secret of cowslip and nettle tea. From -the pounded leaves of dock blended with lard, he prepares a salve for -cuts. Rheumatism, from which all keepers suffer in their old age, is -treated with the fat of hedgehogs, well rubbed in--not that this is a -herbal remedy. Cramp in pheasants calls for cayenne pepper boiled in -their food; chopped onions are for gape-worms; a little saffron with -drinking water--as much as will lie on a threepenny-bit in the water -for a thousand birds--assists young birds through the troubles of -feather-growing; while the first moult is aided by a few crystals of -sulphate of iron in water. But oil is the sovereign remedy: castor-oil -for dogs out of sorts, oil of almonds for the glued eyelids of blind -birds, linseed-oil and laudanum for gapes--oil of every kind for every -purpose. With corn scented with oil of rhodium-wood the keeper lays a -trail which every pheasant must follow. - - * * * * * - - -The Earth-Stoppers' Feast - -The reward paid to keepers from the funds of fox-hunts is a sovereign -for a litter of cubs when hounds come cub-hunting. Ten shillings is -paid for each fox found by hounds. And a florin is the keeper's usual -reward for stopping earths when the meet is within a distance of four -miles. These moneys are paid in round sums on a great occasion in the -keeper's year--the earth-stoppers' dinner. In olden days keepers were -full of resources for benefiting themselves from the hunt funds, while -saving their pheasants' skins from foxes at the same time. The cunning -keeper would induce a huntsman to pay a stealthy unofficial visit to -the home of a litter, and after his departure, when a reward had been -made sure, would quietly take steps to rid himself of fox troubles. -Visiting the earth with a supply of sulphur matches and bags of grass, -he would light the matches within, block the holes with the bags, and -leave the deadly fumes to do their work. Or two keepers would combine -to defraud the hunt. One would show a litter and pocket his sovereign, -then shift the litter to the preserves of his friend, who in turn would -call in the huntsman and pocket his reward, then return the cubs whence -they came; and so the game would go on. Luck plays a great part in this -matter of fox-rewards. It often happens that foxes which have been -harboured honestly by one keeper are found in the preserves of another -who is a vulpicide, yet is not above accepting the reward which really -is the due of his scrupulous friend in the next parish. How to show -foxes to the hunt and pheasants to a shooting party is the prickliest -of all the manifold problems of the gamekeeper's life. - - * * * * * - - -The Keeper's Garden - -The gamekeeper, like many a countryman, would be at a loss without his -garden. His little plot of land means much to him: green food for his -table, tonic foods for his pheasants, and a place where, by digging, -he may bury some of his cares. He knows no such exercise as digging -for keeping away ill-humours. He believes that the more a man sows the -more he will reap--it is a lesson daily brought home to him. So he -puts his best work into his garden, which is often the model plot of a -rural community. In March he divides his time between spade work and -his never-ending war on vermin. If he has a pen of stock pheasants he -spends a good many minutes a day in admiration of the birds, besides -tending to their wants; and he will defy you to prove that you ever saw -a finer lot of birds. "Look at that old cock up agen yon corner--ain't -'e got some 'orns? Bless ye, them birds is worth a pound apiece." - -So many a March afternoon finds the keeper hard at work at home with -spade, fork, trowel or dibbler. His great object is to finish the more -laborious work before the time of pheasants' eggs. A feature of the -garden is the neat and spacious onion-bed, smoothed with the polished -back of a favourite spade, which has dug out countless rabbits. There -must be plenty of onions for the young pheasants to come. In time of -need a keeper may sacrifice the whole of his onion-bed to his birds, -gladly buying such onions as his wife demands for the table. Then -there are two or three long rows of peas. Before sowing, the seed is -sprinkled with red lead against the ravages of long-tailed field-mice, -and after sowing strands of black thread are carried up and down the -surface against the attacks of sparrows, while above, as a terrible -warning, swings the body of a sparrow-hawk. The site of an old pheasant -pen is devoted to Brussels sprouts. A dilapidated dog-kennel will serve -to coax rhubarb to be ready for Easter Sunday's dinner. - -Flower seeds are not forgotten: in shallow cartridge-boxes, protected -by a small home-made frame, seeds are sown for making the little patch -of flower-garden gay with stocks and asters, sweet peas, sun-flowers, -tobacco-plants, and zinnias. The keeper puzzles over zinnia seed, which -is like the fragment of a dead leaf, yet will come up and grow with the -speed of mustard and cress, producing a wealth of bloom. - -But the planting of the potato patch is the chief work. The neat little -furrows which mark each row of potatoes, allowing the hoe to be plied -fearlessly before the potatoes show above ground, give a neatness to -the cottage garden all the time while the soil is brown and bare. - -Gamekeepers, though their work for wages is never done, yet have a few -legitimate ways of adding to their incomes. Of course they have the -opportunity of making a good deal of money if they trespass on their -employers' time; but your keeper is an honest man, and his work is -the object of his life. Most keepers are skilled vegetable gardeners, -and may make a few shillings from peas and beans. Often enough they -have a cunning way with flowers, though envious amateurs are free with -their hints about the advantages to be gained from burying foxes to -enrich the soil. We know one who will put in a fair day's work with -spade and wheelbarrow before even the waggoners have stirred to give -their horses breakfast. Going his rounds, the keeper marks good briers -for budding; if he does not sell them, he will beg choice buds from -rose-growers, and a year or two later the passer-by may be tempted to -offer half-a-crown for the fine roses of his little plot. Possibly by -this time his roses mean so much to him that he will make some such -excuse as, "The missus, she thinks a mortal sight of they." - - * * * * * - - -Keepers' Holidays - -In February a few lucky gamekeepers may take a voluntary holiday, many -must take an involuntary one--restful, perhaps, but not beneficial to -pocket, health, and spirits. Keepers come and keepers go in these days -when so many shoots are let for short terms. Resting between berths -has one advantage--there can be no haunting worry as to the welfare of -game. It would be interesting to collect cases of keepers and other -country workers who have held the same berth for long periods, and have -never been for a holiday right away from the scenes of their labours. -Many and many old keepers would be found to have lived their whole -lives on the estates where they were born. The best holiday for keepers -would be a change to a bustling town; or they should be sent to a -country where game is different to the game at home, the partridge man -going to the home of grouse, the moorland keeper to the South. - -Most keepers would be the first to say it is impossible that they -should take holiday. Their work is peculiarly personal; and even -when it is essential to arrange for somebody else to "give an eye to -things," they can never feel happy and confident that all is going on -in the accustomed way. The work, too, is cumulative--each item must -be considered in its relation to several others. Even where there are -several keepers, each on his own beat of a shoot, there is a jealous -rivalry between them; and any one who went for a holiday would suspect -advantage to be taken of his stock of breeding game in his absence. If -there is one thing a keeper can endure less than being scored off by a -poacher, it is to be scored off by a brother keeper. - - * * * * * - - -An Advantage of Marriage - -For the first time in many a long year a gamekeeper may find himself -taking a holiday in the early days of February--either because he -has left his place of his own free will, or has been dismissed. -"Left owing to shoot being given up"--that is the usual reason for -a keeper's enforced holiday. Married keepers seldom leave berths of -their own accord except to better themselves; but a young bachelor -keeper with a light heart may be fond of change, and scores of places -are open to him from which married men are barred. Often he can afford -to take a holiday while he looks about for a new berth; he can find -lodgings anywhere, and what with odd jobs and the money he has saved -he can exist comfortably until he finds an employer to suit him. The -married keeper is not so light-hearted, and perhaps on this account -the best permanent berths go to the married men. The chance of such a -berth gives the country maiden her best chance of bagging an elusive -bachelor. Sometimes she captures the heart of a bachelor before he has -found a berth that will support a wife; then he will advertise for a -place, making the ambiguous statement: "Married when suited." No doubt -some keepers who have issued this form of advertisement could tell -strange stories of the applications received. - - * * * * * - - -The Keeper seeks a New Berth - -When going out to look at a place where the chance of a berth has -offered itself, the keeper always takes good stock of the game in the -country through which he passes. You may meet him, at the end of the -season, setting out by road or by rail; he is clad in his best, you -will see; bright new gaiters encase his legs, his boots glitter with -polish. However great his hurry, as he goes along through park-lands or -woods, he is looking out for everything to be seen; not a sign of game -escapes him. And there lives a keeper who, passing through an estate -on his way to a personal interview with the owner, chanced to be led -out of the direct path by certain suspicious sounds which he heard, -and caught a poacher red-handed. It is hardly necessary to add that he -stepped forthwith into the vacant berth. - - * * * * * - - -In North and South - -Many long leagues separate the moor-keeper of the North from the -keeper of South-country preserves; their eyes look out upon different -worlds; the two men are as different in type, in ideas, and in -methods as the North is different to the South, the open, rolling -moor to the jungle-like covert. There are certain matters on which -they agree--as in their mutual hatred of foxes; the moor-keeper, when -the season is out, has no hesitation in killing all foxes and vermin -within his power. He has an advantage over his brother in some things; -as in nesting-sites. The heather affords an unlimited number of -well-concealed places for grouse nests, whereas in Hampshire or Sussex -a nesting hedgerow after the heart of pheasant or partridge is likely -to be overcrowded, and to attract every sort of egg-thief. Again, he -has an advantage in his natural and abundant food-supplies; though much -of his success in raising a stock of healthy birds will depend on his -judgment in burning old heather, and insuring a plentiful growth of -young shoots. When heather is late in starting to grow, and birds are -forced to feed on old, dry shoots, digestive troubles may prove fatal -to many. - - * * * * * - - -Poachers-- - -Poachers on the moor differ in many habits and tricks from -South-country poachers. They know how to trap grouse with gins, setting -up little piles of gravel, which the birds eagerly seek for digestive -reasons, and besetting the gravel with traps. They know how to trap -grouse in winter without causing them injury; this they do by pressing -a bottle into hard snow, thus shaping a hole-trap (to be baited with -oats) from which the grouse cannot escape, having fallen into it head -first. But on the whole the sneaking type of poacher has fewer chances -on the moor than in the pheasant coverts. - - * * * * * - - -And their Dogs - -A poacher owns to a dog, so marvellously trained that his master can -send it for anything--but at the least sign of anybody watching its -movements, or the approach of a gamekeeper or a policeman, the dog -drops whatever it may be carrying, makes off for cover, and hides -itself. The dog has many rivals to fame of this sort. We knew a poacher -whose plan it was to dawdle along the road in his pony-cart while his -lurcher foraged in the fields. But at a certain signal the dog would -come instantly to heel; on suspecting danger, all the master did was -to lift his cap, and scratch his head in the most unconcerned manner -in the world. When once a dog grasps the meaning of a signal, he will -obey it faithfully in all circumstances if he is kept in practice. In -the olden days, in the Netherlands, dogs were trained to smuggle, and -without attendants. They were sent off on a journey at night, loaded -with goods, the keenest-nosed dog leading, and at the moment when he -sighted or scented a custom-house official, he would turn back as a -signal to the whole pack to rush off to cover, and hide until the -danger passed. This is vouched for in an old work, "Brown on Dogs." - - * * * * * - - -Perfect Obedience - -Probably there would be no great difficulty training a dog to drop a -hare, or anything else, at the approach of somebody other than its -master. Dogs are sometimes trained to lie down, without receiving any -signal or order, when their owners meet friends and stop to talk. One -old gamekeeper would consider his dogs to be very ill-mannered if -they did not lie down of their own accord when he stopped walking. -Another keeper has trained his dog to quite an out-of-the-way trick, -which is to the keeper's personal advantage, if highly detrimental -to his duties. The trick is for the dog, on command, to spit from -his mouth any food he may be eating. The keeper will take his dog to -a public-house, and set the example of throwing him biscuits, which -he will eat greedily. He will then make a boast about the dog's -obedience (in the shooting field, by the way, we have never known a -more disobedient animal, though he is exceedingly clever). Eventually -the keeper wagers a pint of beer to a quart that the dog not only will -cease eating biscuits on command, but will eject any crumbs from his -mouth, and not touch them again until so ordered. Many a pot of beer -has the dog won for his master by this trick. When the two go home, it -is the dog that finds the way. - - * * * * * - - -The Black List - -In February the gamekeeper's thoughts and energies are turned mostly in -the way of vermin and trapping. And where vermin is really plentiful it -is a wonderful wild sport that he enjoys in tracking and trapping the -creatures of his black list. In the North the vermin bag is more mixed -than in the South, and in the olden days contained such a great variety -of creatures as to suggest that the keepers enjoyed better sport than -their masters. They were ruthless in their war on all that they held -to be enemies to game; how ruthless may be judged from the following -list of vermin, bagged in three years by a famous keeper on Glengarry, -Inverness-shire. It indicates the proportion of the different sorts of -animals classed as vermin found in the Highlands in the middle days of -the last century: 11 foxes, 198 wild cats, 246 martens, 106 polecats, -301 stoats and weasels, 67 badgers, 48 otters, 78 house cats going -wild, 27 white-tailed sea eagles, 15 golden eagles, 18 ospreys, 98 blue -hawks or peregrine falcons, 7 orange-legged falcons, 211 hobby hawks, -75 kites, 5 marsh harriers, 63 goshawks, 285 common buzzards, 371 -rough-legged buzzards, 3 honey buzzards, 462 kestrels, 78 merlin hawks, -83 hen harriers, 6 gerfalcons, 9 ash-coloured or long blue-tailed -hawks, 1431 carrion crows, 475 ravens, 35 horned owls, 71 common fern -owls (nightjars), 3 golden owls, 8 magpies. A total of nearly 5000 -head, giving an average of more than 1500 head a year, or about five -head a day. The list, strangely enough, does not contain a single jay, -rat, or hedgehog. - - * * * * * - - -A South-Country Record - -A Southern keeper's list of about the same period--from 1869 to -1878--shows a total of just over 8000 head. In the year that saw -the greatest destruction of hawks--nearly all sparrow-hawks and -kestrels--46 were killed. The greatest number of magpies killed in a -year was 205. Probably cats were not very carefully counted--their -numbers in different years rise from 47 to 122. Usually more than -100 squirrels were killed each year. And over 100 carrion crows were -killed yearly. But jays headed all lists in numbers sacrificed; the -largest bag of 346 was made in '78, evidently when the influence of the -breach-loader was beginning to make itself felt. Hedgehogs suffered -least persecution among the keeper's supposed enemies, only 6 going -into the bag in one year--45 was the highest hedgehog loss. Exclusive -of rats, this keeper, a Hampshire man, waged war on nine species only, -whereas the Inverness-shire keeper destroyed as vermin thirty-one -different kinds of birds and beasts. The lists make no mention of -rooks. To-day, on the Southern estate to which the list of thirty years -ago refers, not a crow or a magpie is left, and the persecution has -told heavily on the sparrow-hawks, and many another kind. The present -keeper's sport with vermin is as different to his predecessors' as -the sport of his master to his master's ancestors--to-day about 300 -pheasants are bagged on this estate in the course of a big day's -shooting, instead of the 30 birds that would have been a good bag in -the olden times. - - * * * * * - - -Woodland Gallows - -In olden days the gamekeeper set up his vermin gallows in each of -his big woods. It was to his credit to show that he had killed a -large amount of vermin; on his gallows he wrote his own testimonial. -Nearly all the vermin he killed was duly displayed. But now the day -of the gallows is passing. Keepers have little time to give to the -display; nor do employers always encourage it. The gallows foster -a growing feeling against the destruction of wild life involved by -the preservation of game, and lead to bitter, if often misjudged -attacks. Keepers are contenting themselves with modified forms of -gallows, as the trunk of a tree, to which the heads, tails or claws of -the malefactors are nailed. These small gallows do not speak of the -keeper's successful war-waging in the bold manner of the old-fashioned, -full-measure pattern. But there is much in their favour. As one old -keeper remarked of his tree-trunk gallows, the faint odour was only -enough to set-off the scent of the flowers. - -To the gallows comes a varied bag of robbers. The vermin list of a -typical North-country estate included in a recent season 133 stoats, -36 weasels, 62 cats, 98 rats, 115 hedgehogs, 10 hawks, 381 jackdaws, -82 rooks, 23 carrion crows, and 52 magpies--a total of nearly a -thousand head. The rats included would probably only be those caught -incidentally in the vermin traps, not the far greater number killed -during special campaigns by ferret, gun and dog. Hedgehogs are usually -spared the indignity of the gallows. Though a keeper cheerfully -carries a stoat in the pockets of his Sunday coat--and we have known -him in an emergency to put a fox into his pocket--he knows that -to pocket hedgehogs means the entertainment of their numerous and -active dependants. Of cats only the tails are exhibited, and they are -discreetly chosen, the keeper avoiding very striking tails that might -be recognised. It would be bad policy on his part to advertise dead -cats too freely. He has no desire to make enemies. - - * * * * * - - -The Gallows Martyrs - -Though kestrels, unhappily, are still brought to the gallows, with the -barn-owl and other creatures innocent of injury to game, keepers grow -more discriminating in the matter of vermin. Education has had its -effect--it has taught the men to think, and to act according to reason -rather than convention. The old men remain obstinate, and we remember -how vainly we wasted an hour's good argument on one old fellow who -seemed to hold badgers chiefly responsible for his ruined game-nests. -It was at a keepers' dinner, an annual entertainment given by the Hunt. -Only one badger remained out of a colony that formerly had inhabited -our friend's preserves; and he expressed a firm intention of "fetching -her hout on it." In a rash moment he went so far as to declare that he -would prefer three litters of fox cubs to one of badgers. Overhearing -this, the Hunt secretary made a good point by saying: "Very well, my -friend; if you kill this badger, next time hounds come your way we -shall expect to find at least three litters of cubs." It was notorious -that every fox seen on this keeper's ground was, according to him, a -mangy one and therefore "best put out of the way." - - * * * * * - - -Once Trapped, Twice Shy - -Some creatures, after they have been trapped and have escaped, learn -the lesson of their lives, and are never trapped again, while others -find no moral at the end of their adventure, and live to adorn the -gallows. It is very seldom that a rat is trapped twice. Scores escape -from traps at the expense of a leg; this is a common matter, but a -man may trap vermin for a lifetime and yet never catch a three-legged -rat. Stoats, on the other hand, far less cunning than rats, are often -trapped again after escaping with the loss of a foot. We have known a -stoat trapped by its last remaining leg, after having been about for -a long time on one leg and three stumps. A keeper who was at special -pains to preserve the foxes on his ground was much upset by the way -in which his neighbours killed them. One year his anxiety for his -cubs was so great that he caught them all in weak gins--and released -them. He knew that after this experience the cubs would never allow -themselves to be again caught in a gin. On the same principle, keepers -sometimes net and release their own partridges, hares and rabbits, to -save them from falling into the meshes of poachers. In the ordinary -way, the fox is never caught in a trap set for other vermin--or foxes -would have been extinct years ago. If they could be trapped as easily -as the ordinary cat, twenty-four hours would be enough for catching -every fox in the country. - - * * * * * - - -Cunning Trappers - -The skilled trapper, setting a baited trap for vermin, places it at -such a distance from the bait that the creature he wishes to catch -cannot reach the food without treading on the pan. Just when it can -reach the prize is the moment when it is most likely to overstep the -safety-line: desire overcomes suspicion. A fox, if so minded, can reach -over the pan, and take the bait of a trap properly set for vermin, -without risking a pad. Yet he seldom takes a bait: he detects the scent -of man for a longer time than a trap is likely to remain unvisited. A -keeper with an experience of more than twelve years vouches for it that -though he used a hundred traps for vermin he never lost a bait through -a fox, nor the Hunt a fox through a bait. But one keeper surpassed the -cunning of the fox. A certain fox had troubled him greatly by too -frequent visits to his poultry-run. He decided to attempt to trap it -at the bottom of a chalk-pit near by, where the fox went to eat his -suppers. Before setting his trap he sacrificed some half-dozen chickens -on different days, with a two-fold object: in order to practise -throwing a chicken from the top of the chalk-pit so that it should fall -exactly where he desired, and in order to cause the fox to expect to -find a meal in the pit. One fine day he set his trap. Then he bided -his time until his scent should have passed away: and after four or -five days he killed another chicken. Making his way to the top of the -chalk-pit, he threw the chicken into a bush at the bottom, where the -fox could reach it only by treading on the pan of the trap, which it -did that night, at the cost of its life. - - * * * * * - - -The Time to Catch a Weasel - -February is the month when it is fashionable for stoats and weasels to -begin courting. The keeper finds the trapping of stoats or weasels less -difficult work than usual in consequence. He maintains that all is fair -in love, war, and gamekeeping. He relies chiefly on tunnel-traps. The -old way was to fix a long, low, narrow box in a likely run--a box open -at each end, but with shutters which dropped when a pan in the middle -of the floor was touched by a weasel's feet; so the weasel would be -caught alive, without injury--only, however, to be executed. Another -old-time trap was the figure 4 trap, set with a heavy stone or slate, -which fell upon and instantly killed its victim. These cumbersome and -not always reliable traps have passed from the woodlands, and now the -keeper merely slips a gin into the entrance of a tunnel. This is made -sometimes of earth and sticks, or is a drain-pipe, or is made of three -lengths of plank, about a yard long and six inches wide. A hole in a -hedge-bank is a favourite place for the gin. These tunnel traps are -commonly set a few yards from the end of a hedge, because stoats and -weasels have a weakness for cutting corners. - - * * * * * - - -Changes of Coats - -We have heard the suggestion many times that there are two varieties -of the common weasel, but think this is not the case. The mistake no -doubt arises from the marked difference in size between the males and -females; the dog weasel is twice or sometimes three times the size of -its sister, and is nearly as big as a small female stoat, while the dog -weasel's sister may be hardly larger than a big mouse. Then the changes -in the weasel's coat are deceptive. In spring a rusty red fur takes -the place of the soft winter brown of the upper parts, while the white -under-parts turn to a yellow tone. The ordinary brown of rats also -changes to a striking rusty red shade in spring. This is most obvious -in the case of rats living in burrows in soil, and often going short -of food, and the rusty fur is specially marked on rats that have been -feeding on carrion sheep and lambs. Shortness of food has the effect of -prolonging the business of coat-changing, as is well seen in the case -of a ferret kept on short commons. A white ferret is deep yellow in -the spring before it has changed its coat. Stoats, too, show yellow on -parts which will be white in the new coat. - - * * * * * - - -The Vermin Bag - -We met, by chance, an old keeper who, on first acquaintance, seemed a -remarkable specimen--for he informed us that his orders were to set -not a single trap anywhere on his ten thousand acres. Thinking that we -saw a movement of his eyelid, we put the blunt question to him: How -many traps did he usually set? And he replied unblushingly, "Forty -dozen." He kept no record of his bag of vermin; but as he trapped on -such a wholesale scale (remembering that the estate is supposed to -be trapless), no doubt his employer would be startled if he knew the -numbers of vermin killed; his vermin bag must be exceptional. The -old-fashioned keeper is stubborn; the kestrel, as we have said before, -is seen too often on his gibbet, and he has no respect for the useful -wood-owl, which he ruthlessly exterminates. A record of a year's bag of -vermin on one big estate reads thus: Jays, 350; magpies, 160; crows, -150; squirrels, 140; weasels, 80; cats, 70; stoats, 60; hedgehogs, 40; -hawks, 30; total, 1080. This record says nothing of rats, rooks or -owls, though no doubt numbers of rats and rooks were sacrificed. - - * * * * * - - -The Ways of Squirrels - -The gamekeeper whose bag of vermin in a year included 140 squirrels is, -we may hope, exceptional. Squirrels are not always treated by keepers -as vermin. Now and again a squirrel has been proved guilty of meddling -with the eggs and young of pheasants--but so rarely that even keepers -speak of these misdeeds as "not worth mentioning." The traditional -crime of squirrels is that they damage various sorts of coniferous -trees by nipping their shoots when young. Even if they gave this work -all their time and attention, their numbers in the woods to-day are -so small that the whole damage done would not amount to a very great -injury to the country. - -Squirrels are the most innocent creatures in the woods, so far as -any harm to game preserving goes. It is their misfortune that many -keepers look upon them as a convenient form of ferret-food. We have -found a freshly killed squirrel, apparently the victim of a bird of -prey, beneath a spruce fir, from which a barn owl flew as we examined -the body; no doubt owls would take a chance to attack a squirrel. -As to what squirrels kill there is little evidence. We have known a -squirrel to do away with part of a brood of tits in an apple-tree, and -one which visited a pheasant's nest, carrying away an egg, and once -we saw a young pheasant in a squirrel's mouth; but we have no doubt -that the bird was picked up dead. The squirrel's alarm-cry reminds us -of the sound produced from the hole in the body of a rubber doll; it -is amusing to see how he stamps his fore-feet while uttering this cry, -as if doing his best to frighten away his human intruder by a show of -force and fury. - -Squirrels always seem to be among the happiest of wild animals. They -have few foes, and none to equal their agility and speed in the tree -branches. The stoat is a good climber, and if he were to attack the -squirrel's nest there would be small chance for the young ones; but -stoats rarely climb so high. In the bitterest weather the squirrel is -secure in his drey; he dreams away the hard days, while around him -birds and animals die of cold and hunger. His only trouble seems to be -that hazel-nuts are sometimes blighted. - - * * * * * - - -The Squirrel's Appetite - -We know an old keeper who believes that squirrels eat everything -eatable in a wood, and that nothing does more damage to his interests. -He reviles squirrels bitterly, saying that they steal as many of his -precious eggs as rats; the eggs of small birds too, and, on occasion, -nestlings. There seems no end to his accusations. He declares squirrels -will take strawberries and apricots if they have the chance, and that -they eat mushrooms and dig up truffles. A favourite food is supplied -by the Scotch pine; though in hot weather larch, silver fir, and spruce -are added in liberal quantities to the dietary. While he rejoices in -hazel-nuts, beech-mast, acorns, and spruce-seeds, he is sometimes -tempted by berries, walnuts, and apples. He eats freely off buds and -young shoots, and peels the bark off trees--digging a spiral course -with his teeth near the top of the tree, so that the first strong gale -blows over the tree-top. It is the sweet stuff between bark and tree, -rather than the bark itself, that attracts his fancy. In the spring he -plays havoc with the tender shoots of the horse-chestnut, showering -them on the ground; while he is so fond of acorns that he is accused -even of pulling up young oak plants to devour the remains of the acorns -below. But we doubt that one squirrel in ten inflicts serious injury on -anybody. - - * * * * * - - -The Departure of Cats - -We suppose that more cats disappear from the domestic hearth in -February than in any other month. The gamekeeper may or may not know -more about this than he will admit--it is certain that the cats go, and -it is true that many of them turn up again. Whatever the February fate -of the cat, the nearest keeper to its home bears the blame of having -spirited it away. He may deny all--that he knows anything about the cat -or its colour or its fate--but the more he denies the more strongly -will he be suspected, the more furiously accused. One old keeper -met all inquiries about the departure of cats with this sound piece -of wisdom: "If ye makes 'em bide at 'ome, there won't be no need for -wantin' 'em to come back." - - * * * * * - - -Skeletons and Cobwebs - -New times give the keeper new excuses. Taxed with a cat's -disappearance, he blames the motor-car; some day he will blame the -flying-ship; where a railway is at hand he always has a ready excuse. -We would be the last to suggest that when the mortal remains of a cat -are found on a road frequented by motor-cars the presumption is always -justified that the cat was slain by a keeper who endeavoured to put -the blame on an innocent driver. We are confident that many cats in -game-preserved places live to die from old age. Ten years is a ripe age -for a cat, but some die from accidents more natural than execution or -murder. Like the birds, when they know their hours to be numbered, cats -creep away to some quiet hiding-place to await death--perhaps beneath -the floor of an old barn, or among the rafters of a familiar roof, -where they hunted rats and mice in youthful days. - -Now and again, in old buildings, death-chambers are discovered where -the skeletons of cats have been hidden among cobwebs and dust, perhaps -for hundreds of years. - - * * * * * - - -The Persecuted Magpie - -Magpies will soon be exterminated in many parts of the country unless -they receive special protection. Like sparrow-hawks, the tribe suffers -collectively for the sins of the individual. The ordinary magpie is -no more harmful to the interests of game than the ordinary rook. His -beauty, certainly, is far more striking. But he has been given a bad -name; and magpies are destroyed on every possible occasion. The keeper -finds the magpie only too easy to destroy, in spite of the bird's -wonderful keenness of eye and his wary ways. - -Magpies go year after year to the same huge, domed nest. The birds may -be trapped a hundred times more easily than sparrow-hawks; and they -may be shot without any difficulty, so slow, laboured and straight is -their flight. An imitation of their call lures them unsuspiciously to -their doom. Add that the plumage is showy, and it is clear that the -thoughtless keeper finds magpies easy targets. - -They are in demand as cage-birds, and even if a keeper should reprieve -a few lingering pairs, he is likely to complain of "they bird -fanciers," who "won't let the birds bide." - -Like all of its tribe, the magpie attacks the eye of its victims, -whether alive or dead. His taste is for carrion, and this accounts -for the ease with which he may be trapped. Here the magpies differ -from the hawks, which are seldom to be caught by a dead bait, unless -killed by themselves--as when they have been disturbed after a kill -and return to an unfinished feast. In trapping for magpies, the keeper -ties a rabbit's eye to the pan of his trap, which he covers carefully -with moss so that only the eye is visible; then the magpie swoops down; -unerringly, and with great force, he drives his bill into the eye, and -the trap holds him fast. - -While usually building in high trees, some descend to thick bushes, -and from this has arisen a popular idea that there are two sorts of -magpies--bush and tree. The idea is hard to shake; and it is argued -that the bush magpie is the smaller of the two. The nest is always -fortified with strong and ugly thorns; marauding crows or rooks would -attack it at their peril. Careful as they are to protect their own -nests, magpies have small respect for the sanctity of other bird homes; -but though they are inveterate egg-stealers, a good word is sometimes -heard for their usefulness in destroying slugs, rats, and field-mice. - - * * * * * - - -The Merciful Trap - -No solution has been found to the problem of a substitute for the -steel trap for rabbits and vermin. So the steel trap remains a painful -necessity, as those know who have tried to keep great numbers of -rabbits within bounds. But steel traps are sometimes used where more -merciful ways of catching rabbits might serve as well. Rabbit catchers -who never think for themselves, but do things only because they -have always done them, will use steel traps where they could save -themselves much labour, and the rabbits a good deal of suffering, if -they were to use snares. Several hundred snares can be set in the time -it would take to set a hundred traps, and the snares cost little, and -weigh next to nothing--a consideration when traps or snares have to be -carried a long way. A few traps make a heavy load. - - * * * * * - - -The Rabbit in a Snare - -Snares themselves are far from ideal. If they are properly set a good -many rabbits may run into them at speed and kill themselves almost -instantly; but the majority of the rabbits caught will not be thus -neatly despatched. Half a night's catch may be found dead in the -morning, some having been hanged outright, others strangled more or -less slowly; but half will be found still living, if nearly dead. This -slow strangulation is prevented when a knot is made in the snare, or -some sort of ring or washer is attached, so that the wire cannot be -drawn tight enough to prevent the rabbit breathing; but no rabbit then -is killed swiftly and mercifully by the wire, and on other accounts the -plan could not prove a real solution to the problem. There is still -another way of setting a snare which prevents a slow death: a bender--a -springy stick of hazel or ash about four feet long--is fixed firmly in -the ground: the snare is made fast to the thin top of it, the stick is -bent down, and the top lightly inserted at the edge of the rabbit's -run. When a rabbit then rushes into the snare, the bender flies up, -swinging him off his feet, so that he is killed quickly. This is a -poacher's dodge to prevent rabbits from squealing when caught: it can -be practised only in an open place. There are many situations where the -steel trap is the only means of dealing with the rabbit pest, and must -be used perforce until a substitute is found--unless man is to give way -to rabbits. We do not think that any gamekeeper uses steel traps for -rabbits unnecessarily. - - * * * * * - - -The Sleep of Birds - -The gamekeeper perhaps sees more of sleeping birds than most people; -and makes many interesting mental notes of the resting habits of -creatures in his woods. He observes that perch-roosting birds always -rest with their heads to the wind. If when a high wind is blowing a -rook alights on the home-tree, he swings his head into the wind before -settling. So when the wood-pigeons come home with the wind behind -them they pass over their roosting trees, then beat up into the wind. -This is done to defeat the force of the wind, which might prevent the -bird alighting where desired, or might blow him from his perch. At -rest, the bird doubles the knees, as it were, which causes the toes -to contract, the weight of the body resting chiefly on the breast and -on the outspread wings--not on the eggs, if in a nest. The birds' -legs and feet have sinews which work an automatic locking action of -the claws, so that, roosting with knees doubled up, the feet grip the -branch unfailingly. On rough nights, the pheasants take the precaution -of roosting in lower branches than usual. If a strong gale springs up -after a bird has gone to roost on an exposed tree, it may be driven to -seek a berth on the ground--and to the wind that does no good to the -pheasant the passing fox owes his supper. - -Some birds seem always half-awake. Wild-fowlers will strike a match at -night to test the question of the presence or absence of wild duck in -the distant creek; if present, an instant quacking will betray them. -Pheasants seem ever vigilant, and on the darkest night it is difficult -to stalk them unawares, however quietly you move. If you come within a -hundred yards of guinea-fowl at night they will raise the alarm. They -excel at talking in their sleep. Sparrow catchers know that directly -their nets touch one part of an ivy-covered wall birds fly out from -another. But some birds, such as the wrens when cuddling in a hole -in the thatch, seem to sleep soundly. And while we have found that -on striking a match beneath a tree where wild pigeons were roosting -they have flown out at once with a clatter of wings, a pigeon-lover in -London informs us that his city birds, roosting on his window-ledge, -lose their wariness by night, and will hold their own in face of a -candle, while a hand is outstretched to touch their necks. - -As the day closes in, the partridges seek some sheltered, dry-lying -hollow in the fields, and a covey of twenty birds will huddle on -a spot a yard in diameter. The colder the weather the closer they -roost. The birds on the edge of the ring have their breasts outwards. -Sometimes, by the way, it is unfortunate for partridges and pheasants -that the positions of their nests prevent them from flying to and fro. -Having to force their way through tangled undergrowth, a trail is left -for the fox to follow home. The barn-door fowl, in captivity, may -walk from her nest; but when in possession of a stolen nest abroad, -she resumes the flying habit. Fowls suffer frequently from deformed -breast-bones, perhaps from roosting when their bones are young and -soft. That they and their cocks are not heavy sleepers most people have -cause to know. - - * * * * * - - -Animals at Rest - -Wild animals asleep fall into graceful attitudes. The fox curls himself -up with all the luxurious air of a cat; he rests his head in the lap -of two front pads, then twines his brush neatly round over his long, -pointed nose. He is a light sleeper; but hares and rabbits are still -more easily roused. We believe hares sleep with their eyes wide open; -the uncapped lenses of the eyes remain active through sleep, so that -any vision of danger conveys an automatic alarm to the brain. People -are sometimes puzzled when, in open fields, they notice a dozen or -more hare forms or beds within a few yards of each other. They may -conclude that hares swarm in those fields. Probably the reason for the -many forms is that a hare likes to face the wind when sleeping, and so -scratches out many beds to suit the wind's changing directions. Among -animals that sleep very soundly is the hedgehog--he has little to fear -when asleep; in case of danger, he has only to erect his spines, to -discourage effectively any disturber of his dreams. While hedgehogs, -dormice, and badgers sleep deeply through the greater part of the -winter, the squirrel is the lightest of sleepers; on dry, bright winter -days he enjoys a frolic in the snow. - - * * * * * - - -Vigilant Fulfers - -It is commonly held that fieldfares roost on the ground; yet we never -remember to have disturbed them when roosting in that way, but have -often done so in the woods, in which they had favourite parts. They -come to the chosen haunt on the brink of darkness, after the habit of -carrion crows, and they roost in companies apparently of twenty and -thirty on the older growths of underwood. At all times the fieldfares -are wide awake, and they never fail to take wing and utter their -throaty chuckle on the slightest provocation. - - * * * * * - - -The Eyes of Wild Creatures - -There is a theory that the eyes of wild creatures magnify things seen, -so that they appear many times larger than to human eyes. This has -been held to explain why creatures smaller and weaker than man, like -hares and rabbits, flee desperately at his approach--a reasonable habit -if all men to them are as giants. One's sympathies would go out to the -rabbit if he sees foxes as horses, and weasels as foxes. If birds' eyes -have magnifying power, many miracles of flight and of feeding would -seem natural. The swift passage of birds through obstacles that appear -to our eyes to be almost impenetrable is something of a miraculous -nature. Without a moment's survey of difficulties or direction, a bird -flashes through a jungle where there is no possible way for it to be -found by human eyes. The blackbird flies shrieking in and out of a -dense hedge of thorns; but not a feather is ruffled in the course of -his intricate flight. Or watch the jay or the sparrow-hawk passing at -speed through an almost solid network of twigs and stems. The human -eye cannot properly follow this performance by the sparrow-hawk; a -swish and a streak of bluish grey, and it is gone. Many a bold jay, -finding itself caught between beaters and guns, has saved its life by -this wonderful power of flight at speed, going away without giving the -slightest chance for a shot; it will dash out of a wall of undergrowth -on one side of a ride sheer into another wall. No doubt the jay knows -to an inch which is the shortest cut out of man's sight. Hardly less -wonderful than birds' flight through crowded obstacles is the way in -which rabbits scurry and twist through masses of fern and brambles. -But where the theory of eye magnification would seem most probably true -is where tits and goldcrests are searching for food on the underside of -fir boughs, and finding food which no man's eye could see unaided. - - * * * * * - - -The Season's End - -While February 1 brings security to pheasants and partridges, -hares--where any survive in spite of the Ground Game Act--are now also -nearly safe from persecution, thanks, however, to the courtesy of -sportsmen, and not to the law. Like rabbits, hares may be killed all -the year round, but, unlike rabbits, they may not be sold or exposed -for sale between the first day of March and the last day of July. - -The end of the season has a strong effect on the gamekeeper. February -2 marks his annual truce with his birds, save woodcock, snipe and -wild-fowl. Thereafter he loses the vindictive look of the shooting -season--he becomes a man of peace. For long months he has been scheming -death and destruction--he has devoted himself wholly to the science of -killing game. Happy, if anxious, his face has been as he has bustled -his birds to guns belching forth some three hundred pellets of lead at -each discharge. At the end of the day he has rejoiced over the long -rows of the dead, in feather and fur, while his hand jingles gold and -silver--his reward for success in the contest of wit and reason against -cunning and instinct. The second day of February comes--and his whole -nature seems to undergo a change. No longer he boasts to his rival -neighbour how a week ago come to-morrow the bag was so many hundred -pheasants, and would have been doubled if the guns had shot "anyhow at -all." But he will make a boast of the numbers of his hen pheasants. The -sight of hen pheasants is the greatest joy of his days--over his hens -he watches with maternal love. "And how many hens was there?"--this is -the answer he will return should you mention casually that you had seen -pheasants feeding in a field. - -As to cock pheasants, his sensations are different. The sight of a -cock pheasant is a taunt. The veteran cocks that have passed unscathed -through the shooting season now grow proud in bearing, and the keeper -thinks they seem to eye him with scornful looks. They are approaching -the reward of their cunning, of their keen eyes, their sharp ears, -their speedy legs--the possibility of several wives is before them. No -matter where the keeper goes now, he is taunted by the sight and sound -of these victorious veterans that have eluded all his efforts to bring -them low. In summer it is the lament of the twenty thousand gamekeepers -in this country that there are "too many cocks by half." - -[Illustration: SPRING'S LOOKING-GLASS - -LONDON EDWARD ARNOLD.] - -An idea is widespread among keepers, if not among employers, that they -are privileged, by virtue of their office, to kill off superfluous cock -pheasants for ten days after the end of the season. The mistake may -have arisen from the fact that licensed dealers in game may expose game -for sale for ten days after the end of the shooting season. We knew an -old keeper whose antipathy to superfluous cocks was deeply rooted: the -sight of too many cocks maddened him. By an ingenious argument he was -able to overcome his legal and conscientious scruples as to disposing -of the unnecessary game. The legal scruples troubled him more than -those of conscience; but this argument always prevailed: "It is not -lawful to take cocks killed out of season to my master's larder. But -if I should happen to have any dead ones to dispose of it would be a -sinful waste to throw them away. Therefore, it will be best if I eat -them myself." - - * * * * * - - -Beaters' Sport - -Among others whose days of sport end with the season are those little -considered sportsmen, the beaters. While making sport for others, they -find opportunities for themselves, and it would be a churlish host or -keeper who grudged the poor beaters the rabbits which occasionally -they knock over with their sticks. But their love of sport becomes too -marked when, in a gang, they creep along stealthily on the look-out -for crouching rabbits for their own bagging, instead of plying their -sticks with a will on the cover to drive forward game. They show some -skill of a rough sort, and considerable woodcraft. A man gives no sign -that he has seen a rabbit, his stride is unhalting as he comes up, and -it is without any flourish that suddenly a swift, deft blow of the -stick is delivered, aimed a little forward of the head. Too late, the -rabbit knows its fatal mistake in thinking that the slow eyes of man -had passed it over, as it crouched in its seat. - -The law forbids any man to shoot either partridge or pheasant when -the last second has passed away of the last minute of the first hour -after sunset on the first day of February. No doubt the law-makers -were mindful that the light one hour after sunset at the beginning of -February would make it extremely difficult for a sportsman to hit a -flying pheasant or partridge. The law-makers wisely drew no distinction -between misses and hits--pheasant-shooting means, they held, shooting -at a pheasant with evident intent to kill. What is hard to understand -about the law is why the season does not end with the last day of -January. Remembering that February 1 is often the day when the keeper -goes from the old shoot to the new, we think it would be decidedly -better for game that the day should be put out of season. It would be -the worse for the poacher. As things are, February 1 is often a day -of anarchy. And it would be a good plan if dog licences and the game -season were made to end on the same day--the one expiration would -serve as a reminder of the other. - - * * * * * - - -Tailless Cocks - -If a pheasant is seen without a tail in the early part of the shooting -season the cause may be put down as fox. Probably the tail has been -lost through an ill-judged effort to capture the pheasant made by some -inexperienced cub--the old fox well knows how important it is to grip -the body of a bird, not merely feathers. But the end of the season also -is a likely time for seeing birds, especially cocks, without tails. -The cause then is not foxes' failures. Long before Christmas, even the -foxes of the year are old in cunning, while the birds whom they robbed -of tails in the days of their callow cubhood will have grown fresh -feathers long since. The cock pheasant who must face courting days -without a tail probably owes his loss of tail and dignity to a gunner -who aimed too far behind, firing at close quarters. - -But if you should see several cocks without tails at the end of the -season the fewer questions you ask the keeper in public the better: the -birds are the superfluous ones of those captured for the laying pens, -and have been for a time imprisoned to provide a spirited ending to the -last days of shooting. The keeper is not proud of them, and no doubt -they are sorry for themselves. - - * * * * * - - -Preparations - -From the young days of the year, when his hens began to lay once more, -the keeper adds eggs to his store for the sake of the birds of May. -His cares and worries, his long hours and weary trudgings, and the -chances and changes of the weather make the keeper grumble more and -more with the years; but he is always a devoted slave to sport, and -takes pleasure in each act of preparation for a new season. Every time -he adds to the store of feeding eggs he is thinking of the prospects -of his pheasants. He sees chicks turning to awkward poults, and poults -turning to full-feathered birds, topping the lofty trees or sailing -high over the valley, while the guns are coughing below. Over his store -of eggs for feeding he gloats like a miser over gold. Stowed away in a -cool place these eggs--after each one has been dipped for about thirty -seconds in boiling water--will keep their good feeding qualities for -months. - - * * * * * - - -Hungry Rabbits - -From the New Year until well on in March rabbits are hard pressed to -find food--not necessarily because the weather may be bad, but because -so many fields present a surface of bare earth, where hitherto rabbits -have been able to find ungrudged pickings. When barred from other food, -they will be driven to bark underwood, and so cause a price to be set -on their heads; and cause people to think and say that a couple of -rabbits are at least a score. When they are shut in a wood by wire -netting, they will be almost certain to attack the undergrowth, whereas -if free to come and go they would have done no damage to speak about, -outside or in. - - * * * * * - - -To Save Underwood - -The secret at once of preserving a few rabbits and saving the underwood -from their attacks is judicious feeding. Swedes or mangels, and some -tightly tied bundles of clover-hay, if thrown down in the rabbits' -resorts will prevent much damage, and prove indirectly an excellent -investment. The food will go far towards allowing foxes, shooting -tenants, farmers, landlords, and the rabbits to dwell together without -extraordinary annoyance to each other. Rabbits always have to bear -the brunt of much more blame than they deserve, and are continuously -persecuted from one year's end to another. Yet they are essential -to the well-being alike of foxes and game, and ought to be better -respected--especially when foxes and game in combination are considered -desirable. The man so anxious to preserve foxes for hounds that he -would not object if the foxes ate his last pheasants acts foolishly if -he refuses to keep a few rabbits. The foxes will turn more than their -usual attention to the pheasants, or they will shift their quarters to -where rabbits are to be found, and a living is to be made with the -least exertion. - - * * * * * - - -Studies in Fear - -How far animals are conscious of fear, and where the instinct of -self-preservation merges into fear, are questions not easily to be -solved. A hare appears to be among the most timid of creatures, making -off with speed at the slightest alarm--yet confidence in her own power -to escape danger may drive all real fear from her heart. Instincts of -fury, bravery and fear are nearly related. - -There is a common idea that wild animals have an inborn fear of man. -But it seems probable that where fear of man is marked it has been -impressed upon the animals by example of parents, or experience. Fear, -or at least a strong suspicion of what is unknown and strange, is -evident among creatures of uninhabited places, though wild-fowl on -waters visited by man for the first time may take no notice of a boat -that sails through their flocks. - -Flight is usually the first instinct of self-preservation. The zigzag -start of a flight is cultivated by many besides snipe and woodcock--by -hares, which bound from side to side of their line, and double back -with a wonderful turn, when hard pressed; by deer pursued by wolves; by -stoats when danger threatens; or by the rabbit nearly taken unawares by -the spring of a cat or dog. But often a wild animal, surprised, will -pause for a moment to snort or grunt, and strike the ground angrily -with a fore-foot before making off--a stag for example. A stamp is -a common signal or sign of annoyance, curiosity or danger. Both the -weasel and the squirrel stamp impatiently with their front feet on -occasions--as when they seem divided between curiosity and alarm at the -presence of a motionless man. The stamp suggests an attempt to discover -whether the man is friendly or hostile, alive and capable of action, or -paralysed. The alarm signal given by rabbits, by striking the ground -with their hind feet, produces a thumping noise, no doubt to be heard -for a great distance underground. So far as danger from man goes, it -is usually anticipated before it becomes pressing. Walk along a hedge -within a yard of a partridge on her nest, or a leveret in its form, -and no notice may be taken so long as you keep on walking. But stop, -or even hesitate in your stride--the partridge or the leveret goes on -the instant. Wary rooks will feed within a few yards of a man hoeing in -a field--but let him stop his work, and take a look at them, and they -wait for no stronger hint of danger. - - * * * * * - - -The Rookery - -Rooks are the most conservative birds, and sometimes nothing will -induce them to form a colony where their presence and their cawing -would be the perfecting touches to the trees of some ancestral park. -The most hopeful plan to tempt them is to put up old empty nests or -brooms, or to put rooks' eggs into a nest that happens to be the -desired place for the colony. Their strong preference for certain -sites is curious; they will crowd nest-trees on one side of a road, -and yet pay no attention to other trees of the same sort, seemingly -more perfect for their needs, and only a few yards distant. We have -watched a case where for twenty years the rooks remained faithful to -the original nest-trees of the colony. About ten years ago half these -trees were cut down, and even then the evicted rooks would not build -in trees across the road, though their tops touched the tops of the -favoured trees, which became more crowded with nests than ever. But -two or three seasons ago their favourite nesting-tree, a beech with -far-spread top, began to show signs of disease; and then, after a deal -of wrangling, two or three pairs were permitted to nest in the trees -near by, hitherto despised. In the next season there were nineteen -nests in these trees, and in the next twenty-six. The old beech -meantime grew more and more feeble, as the rooks perhaps discovered -by some brittleness in the twigs at the top; and after one more year, -though it bore foliage, but not so luxuriantly as usual, the tree gave -shelter to only two nests. And now the long-despised trees are the home -of almost the entire colony. - - * * * * * - - -When Rooks Build - -In February, the rooks pay visits to their home-trees, wheeling and -squawking round about, and demolishing old nests. On fine February -evenings they linger after sunset before setting off to their winter -roosting-place. A few, who have begun work on new nests, turn back to -the trees undecided, then turn again after their companions. Not until -the beginning of March do the rooks seriously set about their building, -in mid-March deserting the great roosting-places of winter and mounting -guard over their rough nests of sticks. - - * * * * * - - -Ways of the Crows - -Rooks would seem to believe that while there is life there is hope. -A dead rook displayed before other rooks for the first time attracts -no particular attention beyond a casual inspection. But if a rook is -wounded, and especially if it hops about with a broken wing, other -rooks will swoop about it, and hover above with wonderful perseverance, -squawking all the time excitedly, even in spite of a man with a gun. We -have seen a hundred rooks perch on a fence to take stock of a relative -caught in a trap set to pheasant eggs. - -The cunning of rooks, crows, and magpies is very marked at -nesting-time; and the keeper who would shoot them by hiding and waiting -within shot of their nests may wait for hours in vain if the birds have -seen him approach--as they seldom fail to do. The birds are cunning -enough to watch from the top of a tall, distant tree, until they see -the enemy go away, when they will return at once to the nest in full -confidence. But they may be tricked quite easily. Let two men with -a gun go together to stand below a rook's nest. Away go the nesting -birds. Then let one of the men take his departure, with or without the -gun, while the other waits. The birds will return promptly, as though -they imagined both men had gone. - -The keeper has small sympathy with the crow tribe, and takes every -opportunity to reduce their numbers. Sometimes he will carry a ferret -to an open spot, over which crows or others are likely to fly, peg the -ferret down, and himself lie in wait with a gun. No rook, crow, magpie -or jay can resist the temptation to mob the ferret. So the keeper takes -advantage of the widespread bird-hatred of the weasel tribe. He traces -a lost and wandering ferret by the wild clamouring of the jays that -have caught sight of the bloodthirsty creature, or by hints from other -birds, great and small. - - * * * * * - - -The Crow as Terrorist - -Carrion crows hold mysterious sway over rooks; a single pair of crows -will drive a great crowd of rooks from a rookery. Yet a crow, when -compared to a rook, does not seem to be much more powerful or armed -with a much more formidable beak. A casual observer would find little -difference between a rook and a crow in the hand. If a pair of crows -were pitted in a duel against a pair of rooks, the balance of power -would make the odds slightly in the crows' favour no doubt. But one -imagines the rooks would still have a sporting chance. Probably crows -have a black enough reputation among other birds to inspire a general -fear. And rooks are cowards. It is a common sight to see them put to -shameful flight by peewits or missel-thrushes when they have ventured -near the others' nesting-places. Yet a rook could kill a missel-thrush -or peewit if it had the pluck to fight. The gamekeeper knows that -the hissing and spitting of a sitting partridge will cause a rook to -approach her very cautiously. A jackdaw, one would say, has ten times -the spirit of a rook. - - * * * * * - - -Imperial Rooks - -We have a little story of how some rooks paid a pretty compliment to -an Empress. The preceding tenant of the Empress Eugénie's place at -Farnborough is said to have spent hundreds of pounds in a vain attempt -to induce rooks to build in the trees. Old brooms were hoisted--real -rooks' nests, with and without eggs, were fixed in the most tempting -sites among the tree-tops--young rooks were procured and given every -attention--and some were even hatched and reared artificially. But the -rooks refused to colonise. Then came the Empress; and promptly the -rooks came also. Soon a flourishing rookery was established. Perhaps -the new-comers, too, were exiles. - - * * * * * - - -Rook-Pie - -Though May is still the month of rook-shooting, this sport has passed -out of fashion, and rook-pie is no longer an honourable dish--it has -sunk, indeed, into a place of disrepute from which no amount of steak, -seasoning, and hard-boiled eggs can rescue it. In old times a dozen -rooks would be sent and received with compliments, like a brace of -pheasants; and labourers prized a few rooks as much as the charity beef -at Christmas. But now one might search far before finding a cottager -who would deign to eat rook-pie. The rooks are shot and buried, or are -left where they fall beneath the rookery trees, for foxes to find and -carry to their cubs. - -The farmer and the gamekeeper have a common cause against the rooks, -which, when they are not attacking the interests of the one are -pilfering the produce of the other. An April blizzard consoles the -keeper for the pheasants' eggs it ruins by blotting out a generation of -rooks. For when such a disaster overtakes a rookery late in April, as -young birds are nearly ready to leave the nests, the parent birds are -hardly likely to make another attempt to rear a brood. But when rooks' -eggs are frosted before or during hatching there will be late broods, -not hatched until the trees are in full leaf. Then the young rooks -might escape the watchful eye of the keeper were it not for the habit -of squawking for food, and for the garrulous chuckling of the parent -birds when feeding the hungry mouths. These late broods increase the -toll of the eggs and young game birds, parent rooks taking five times -as much food as the others. - -Old rooks are very cunning in search of prey. On one excellent -partridge-shoot there is a hedge bordered by telegraph poles. It -is the only hedge on the place, and in seasons when grass and corn -are backward it is packed with partridge nests. The rooks of the -neighbourhood have learnt the trick of sitting on the telegraph wires, -the better to find the way to the nests, as revealed by the movements -of the nesting birds. Thus, waiting and watching in patience, in time -they find out every nest in the hedge. - - * * * * * - - -Birds for Stock - -In February the work begins of catching up pheasants for stocking -aviaries, to supply the coming season's eggs. In mild Februaries, -keeper after keeper tells the same sad story--he "can't catch no hens." -Many of those caught in food-baited traps in mild weather are weak and -unsound, and some are injured by shot, and so are not desirable for -stock. The birds most capable of producing plenty of fertile eggs and -strong chicks are those that scorn to enter a cage, except during hard -or snowy weather. Some keepers make a practice of catching up the -desired number of stock-birds before covert shooting begins. Otherwise -they are caught up early in February--so that they may settle down to -the new way of life before the laying season is upon them. - -"Catching up" is, in its way, a fine art. One secret is to place the -cages, before use, in the principal feeding-places without setting -them for action, for a few weeks. Cages of wire-netting with a roomy, -horizontal opening at one end, after the style of a lobster-pot, are -most effective; a scanty trail of corn leading on to an ample supply -within. These cages are ever ready, and so catch bird after bird; they -have the drawback that if the captives become restive they are liable -to bark their heads on the wire. Less satisfactory traps are made -with lengths of wood (local underwood is used preferably, to allay -suspicion) and only so high that when the trap is thrown the birds -cannot injure themselves if frightened. These traps seldom capture -more than one bird at a time, and they may be thrown accidentally. A -small annoyance of pheasant-catching is provided by the active little -tits of the wood, who carry the corn outside the cages, and scatter it -far and wide for the pheasants to pick up without running any risk. -When pheasants come regularly to feeding-places in fair numbers, a -large and effective cage is built of hurdles, one hurdle square. The -birds are allowed to grow accustomed to feeding therein. One day the -keeper lies hidden, and makes a family catch by stealthily dropping -a shutter attached to a string. Where a wood with plenty of pheasants -joins a belt or wide hedgerow the keeper may erect guiding wings of -wire-netting, which converge on a covered-in tunnel, and then gently -beats the wood through in that direction. The pheasants are run into -captivity in a short time, and with little trouble. - - * * * * * - - -Old Hens - -In the gamekeeper's eyes a hen pheasant becomes an old hen when she -enters upon her second nesting season. But all cock pheasants are old -birds when they have seen their first Christmas--only seven or eight -months having passed over their glossy, green heads. With the New Year -the youngest of the cocks is old in craft, guile and cunning, and all -the keeper's skill is taxed to checkmate his endless ways of escape. A -beat of the wood has no sooner started than all the birds depart to the -point farthest from the beaters. - - * * * * * - - -A Gamekeeping Problem - -When catching up pheasants for the laying-pens, there is always the -difficulty of preventing their escape from the wire-net enclosures, and -it is interesting to see the different devices by which this trouble is -met. The enclosure must not be covered over with wire-netting, for the -birds, whenever startled, would fly upwards and injure themselves--and -it is wonderful with what perseverance a pheasant will fly up again and -again, until its pate has no skin left, and sometimes until it can fly -up no more. So the keeper sometimes covers the enclosure with string -netting, small enough to prevent the birds escaping, and large enough -to prevent them catching their heads and hanging themselves. Others -follow the hawker's system, called brailing, attaching Y-shaped pieces -of leather to one wing so that it cannot be opened for flight--or the -wing may be tied with a piece of tape. The wings are treated in this -way in turn, lest one should grow stiff through having no work. - -Pheasants bred simply for stocking purposes are pinioned when small -birds, as are wild duck; but this reduces their value when their -egg-laying days are numbered. Some keepers cut the flight feathers -of one wing, but the birds cannot then fly again until the shortened -quills have moulted and new ones have grown. But a bird whose flight -feathers have been pulled out in the spring will grow fresh ones by -June, when she is turned out of the pen. At this time the bird with cut -wings is at a heavy disadvantage, alike in escaping the dangers and in -mothering any brood she may succeed in hatching out in the woods. - -How shall a pheasant gather her chicks beneath her wings if she have -only a wing and a half? - - * * * * * - - -The Hare Poacher - -In March many keepers are worried by hare poachers. To lose a hare by -poaching during the shooting season is bad enough, but to lose one of -those left for stock is a calamity to the keeper--though to the poacher -a hare means a meal for his family, or a week's supply of beer. The -chances are ten to one that a hare snared in March will be a doe--for -the does run pursued by a pack of bucks, and so go first into the -snare. Hare-poaching would be a matter of less concern to the keeper -if the buck hares were always taken, for he could often spare a few, -as they will race does to the point of utter exhaustion or death. At -rutting times the poacher's task is easy. He selects three or four runs -which, from their well-used appearance, are promising, then slips down -his snares of brass wire, dulled by exposure to smoke to be the less -easily seen by hare or keeper. The poacher chooses runs close together, -and should he be a man who goes to work, prefers that they shall be -near his line of march, so that he may keep an eye on the snares -without stepping out of his lawful path. - -Slouching along, with a lie ever ready on his lips in case he should -meet a keeper, he can see when a hare is caught merely by moving his -eyes, and without turning his head. And if a hare is caught, he will -pass on his way unconcernedly, returning without a sign. Meantime his -mind has been scheming out the best way to take possession. Probably -he will wait for night and darkness--or, instead of going to work the -next day, he may devote a large part of it to waiting for the chance -of a clear coast, so that he may fetch the hare in broad daylight. But -give the cunning poacher the smallest hint that the keeper knows about -his snares and he will leave them alone altogether. He will only visit -his snares when he has no reason to suspect that a keeper has heard of -them--otherwise the keeper may be watching to "put a stop to these here -little games." - - * * * * * - - -March Hares - -The March hare is certainly mad; what but madness could cause him -to go capering round and round a field for hours at a stretch? The -battles of the hares are waged in companies; you may see a score of -militant, amorous hares together, and several couples will be engaged -in duels. The combatants rear themselves on their hind legs, and spar -furiously with their front feet, and when one of a fighting pair has -had enough of it another instantly takes his place; while the hare -that refuses to fight may be chased until forced to turn and square -himself to the battle. The whole company may set upon some poor -coward, and worry his life out of him. It would seem that when once -hares and rabbits have finished their duels, so common a sight in the -country in March, they live peaceably enough through the rest of the -breeding season. After these early days of courting, one seldom sees -more than a slight skirmish between a couple of hares or rabbits, -though the does breed again and again through the summer. Fights at -courting times among wild creatures are usually due either to a local -or temporary preponderance of males, or to some special attraction of -particular females. At this time of year, it might appear that fighting -and courtship went naturally together; but we doubt if wild creatures -who pair are given very much to fighting and quarrelling. It is when -one has many wives, as the cock pheasant or the stag, that the most -desperate fighting is done. - - * * * * * - - -The Cubs' Birthday - -A majority of fox cubs are born about March 25, five or six to a -litter. With such crafty parents there is small chance that they will -go short of food, and fortunately they come into the world just when -baby rabbits are most plentiful. Much else than rabbit goes down their -throats, as the entrance to any fox's earth makes evident--there you -see remains of quantities of frogs, mice, rats, hares, and, of course, -of countless pheasants and partridges, and of many a fowl. The dog -fox is not one to show any great attention to his mate: he pays her -many visits, but he enjoys himself in his own way. Nor could he be -expected to take a deep interest in the welfare of his half-dozen -families, several miles apart. But some foxes make better fathers than -others; one we have known to rear a litter of cubs on the death of the -vixen. Of course a dog fox could do little if the cubs were dependent -on a milk diet. A curious case of an exemplary fox was that of the -unfortunate one which met his end while carrying a shoulder of carrion -mutton to two vixens and two litters inhabiting the same earth. - - * * * * * - - -Courtiers in Pens - -March brings the gallant cock pheasant to his courting days. He knows -that he is safe from men and guns, and stands recklessly within easy -gunshot, a figure of defiance. Should he step away he lifts his feet -with a pompous and disdainful air. He keeps a sharp eye on the hen -pheasants of the wood: the time is near when he will be the sultan of -half a score of hens; that is, if he remains at large in the woods. -If confined in the keeper's pens, the number of wives is sternly -regulated, and five, or at the most seven, are allowed to him. It is -curious that in captivity the number of the cock pheasant's hens must -be kept down, whereas the mallard, who pairs when wild, will cheerfully -accept a polygamous state, and will faithfully husband two or three -ducks if kept in a pen. - -When partridges are penned up for a few months in the breeding season, -on the French system of rearing, they remain faithful to their rule of -pairing. Keepers have found that it is useless to try to regulate the -partridge courtships: the birds must be left to their own instincts -in choosing mates. It will not do to put any cock and hen together -and expect them to pair. The hen is quite as particular in accepting a -mate as the cock in selecting one for his attentions. Sometimes a hen -wins the hearts of several suitors, and then there will be fighting, -the strongest securing the prize, the defeated contentedly pairing off -with the less sought-for hens. When a partridge betrothal has been -ratified, the happy pair announce the fact to their friends by keeping -sedulously together, apart from the other occupants of the general pen. -The partridge is seldom quarrelsome: in a wild state a cock bird will -go far afield in search of a mate if he cannot find one peaceably in -his usual haunts--or he may make up his mind to go through the season -unwedded. Sometimes, but rarely, it will happen that trouble arises -through an amorous cock partridge losing his mate late in the nesting -season and trying to run away with another's wife. But while some -partridges show a pugnacious temperament, as they boast no spurs, like -cock pheasants, their duels mostly take the form of chasing and running. - - * * * * * - - -When Hawks Nest - -In March the hawks pair--and the pairs visit and examine all sorts -of old nests. The nest of a kestrel is usually found in the heart -of a wood--though it may be recognised as a kestrel's only by the -sight of the birds flying off, for they rear their young in old -sparrow-hawks' nests, or in a magpie's, a crow's, or in a squirrel's -abandoned drey. The sparrow-hawk builds its own nest, as a rule, of -rough sticks, with twigs as lining, usually placed near the tree's -trunk. It will return to the same nest year after year. But at times -the nest of a wood-pigeon is adopted, or of a carrion crow. The cock -sparrow-hawk is a polite mate, perhaps of necessity, being so inferior -to the hen bird in size and strength. He is energetic in inspecting -nest-sites, in advance of his mate. This habit has proved fatal to -many, for it is a favourite plan with some keepers to place a circular -gin in likely nests--a cruel trick, and illegal, for the law which -prohibits the use of the pole-traps forbids also that traps shall be -set in nests. Faithful as are hawks and magpies to each other, it is -strange how swiftly a new mate is secured should an old one suffer -a fatal accident. In the earlier part of the breeding season, a hen -sparrow-hawk may lose her mate time after time; yet a new mate is -quickly at her side, though no other hawks are to be seen about the -country, except those in pairs. - - * * * * * - - -Love-Dances - -The little blue pigeons, the stock-doves, call "Coo-oop, coo-oop, -coo-oop," all day, in the old elms in the meadow, or high among the -massed twigs of the lime. Pigeons and doves are fantastical love-makers -like several other birds--the blackcock and cock grouse hold regular -love-levees, going through ridiculous antics and gestures; ducks -skim absurdly about the water, bobbing their heads up and down as if -bowing compliments to each other; and even the sober rook will perform -a kind of love-dance. At courting times, the wood-pigeons assume a -wonderful lustre of plumage, and the white of the neck-ring is very -striking, like the edging of a woodcock's tail. The cock wood-pigeon -is a laughable sight as he goes sidling down some bare branch to greet -his prospective bride; nearer and nearer he works his way, bowing -incessantly with a sideways motion of the body, until at last, with -neck bent low, bill meets bill in some kind of bird-kiss. - - * * * * * - - -Names that Puzzle Cockneys - -The Cockney in the country is perplexed by the countryman's names for -birds and beasts; especially by names denoting gender. The countryman -seems to the townsman to be particular in drawing his distinctions, -and his precise way of referring to an ox or a steer, a bull-calf or a -heifer, is found very puzzling, particularly to ladies--who hold all -cows to be bulls. And when the countryman speaks of a wether-sheep, -a barrow-hog, of a hummel-stag, he is speaking in mysteries. Even -the terms of the poultry-yard--cock, cockerel, pullet, fowl, hen, or -capon--are not always understood. - -Custom grants some creatures only one sex. A cat is usually a she, and -a hare nearly always. To be precise, as to hares, one should refer -to the male as a jack and a female as a jill, the terms buck and doe -being more properly applied to rabbits and to fallow deer; red deer -are distinguished by the terms stag and hind. Ferrets in some parts -are known as hobbs and gills. Rats, like badgers and hedgehogs, may -be boars and sows. The males of otters, stoats, weasels and foxes are -dogs, but only the female fox is a vixen. Rams are sometimes "tups." -The terms bulls and cows are applied to many kinds of animals, such as -elands, moose, whales, elephants, and the seals; but the young seals -are pups, and gather in rookeries. The terms for birds offer some -difficulties; all common wild duck are mallards, to distinguish them -from widgeon, teal and so on; but while the male may be called either -the mallard or the drake, the female is always a duck. Grouse are cock -and hen; blackcock, blackcock and greyhen; and all woodcock are 'cock. - -No less confusing to the Cockney in the country are the terms -for quantities of game. He speaks of a "brace of rabbits," and -the gamekeeper's eyebrows rise at the term. Two rabbits are a -"couple"--when they are not a pair. Two pheasants, two partridges, -or two grouse are a "brace," three forming a "brace and a half" or -a "leash"; but we speak of a "couple" of woodcock, snipe, duck, or -pigeons. - -When the gamekeeper speaks of "pairs" of birds he is referring to -birds that have paired; but a cock and a hen pheasant remain a cock -and a hen. Some confusion arises from the terms applied to gatherings -of birds or beasts. Young families of birds are usually "broods," and -families of animals "litters." One speaks of a brood (or pack) of -grouse, a covey (or pack) of partridges, a bevy of quail, a nid of -pheasants (meaning a young family), a wing of plover, a wisp of snipe, -a team of duck, a company of widgeon, a flock of sparrows, rooks, or -pigeons, a skein or gaggle of geese, a herd of swans or deer, and a -sounder of wild pigs. The gamekeeper knows better than any one else -just what is meant by a litter of cubs. There is a distinction between -a big "rise" of pheasants and a good "flush." If a thousand pheasants -fly up at the same time it is a big rise, but not a good one, because -few can be shot. A good flush does not mean necessarily that there are -many birds, but that they rose, or were flushed, so that most of them -offered shots--a few at a time. - - * * * * * - - -Hares and their Young - -A wet, cold spring means death to the majority of early leverets. They -are given a good chance of life, coming into the world as perfect -little hares, with complete fur coat and open eyes; and, like partridge -chicks, they can run on the day they are born. But they are not always -strong enough to withstand the English spring. A leveret, no larger -than a man's fist, runs with extraordinary speed, and often escapes -from a dog, while a man must be sound in wind and limb to overtake it -in the open. Rabbits, born naked, develop a very fair turn of speed so -soon as they come above ground, but they quickly give up in despair if -pursued. - -There is a widespread idea that hares breed only once in a year, and -produce only one leveret. The gamekeeper knows well that puss may -produce several leverets at a birth, and will have family after family -from as early as January to the end of September. As with rabbits, the -leverets born early one year themselves may breed in the late summer -of the same year. No doubt the hare is credited with only one or two -young ones because only one or two are found together. Occasionally, -it is true, several very young leverets may be found in one place; but -they are usually cradled in separate seats, not far from each other. We -once found a family of eight little leverets crouching in a bunch under -a heap of hedge-trimmings. Evidently we discovered them within a few -moments of their entry into the world. - -The mother hare is wise to separate her family. Many dangers threaten -the leveret's life; but if families were kept together the young -ones would be even more open to attack from rooks and crows, and -scent-hunting vermin in fur. The leveret with its eyes pecked out by -a rook, yet still living, is a sight which pleads for the mercy of a -swift death at the gamekeeper's hands. The mother hare is keenly alive -to the dangers besetting her family. If you find a leveret one day -nestling in a tuft of grass, or against a clod of earth, whether or not -you handle it the mother will certainly remove it before the morrow. -She will wind danger in your scent. - - * * * * * - - -Starving Birds - -The old name for March, "Starvation Month," is usually justified, -if winter, with snow, carries on into March. Countless birds die of -starvation. After a hard winter there is little food to be found; -but large berries remain a long time on some of the ivy bushes, and -come into favour among robins and blackbirds. There has been little -green growth since September, though the larger celandine shows bigger -leaves, coltsfoot is out, wild arum leaves are green in the hedges, -and there is green growth on elder-bushes, woodbine, privet, and brier -bushes. Insect life for food is of negligible quantity: though myriads -of gnats may be hatched by the sun, they are poor eating. Of flowers -there are hardly any, and the sparrow, pecking at the crocuses in his -need, earns the hatred of gardeners. It is a time of hunger with many -animals awakening out of sleep; with the field-voles uncurling from -their beds of grass, and with the hedgehogs shaking themselves free of -their balls of leaves. A new activity is stirring, birds are living at -pressure, many animals have young, hundreds of birds come in daily -from overseas--but supplies for all seem at the lowest ebb. - - * * * * * - - -The Egg of Eggs - -In the keeper's year there is no moment so delightful as when he finds -his first wild pheasant's egg. The earliest egg of the season is looked -on almost like a nugget of gold. You may observe a keeper turning -out of his way to pass along the sunny side of a hedgerow favoured -by pheasants, craning his neck to look at the far side of a tuft of -withered grass, and with his stick turning over the dead leaves of a -likely hollow. Day after day, in early April, he perseveres in his -quest; and though he may find scores of depressions scooped out by the -hens--"scrapes" he calls them--it may be a long while before his search -is rewarded by the sight he yearns for. He is appeased--though he has -but found something found thousands of times before, only a pheasant's -egg. But it is the first of a new season, and precious beyond all -others. There may have been eggs already in his pens. The penned birds -are protected from wind and cold rains. They live on a well-drained -plot facing the south, and they are treated so liberally to rich foods, -spices, and tonic drinks that they can hardly help laying early. The -first egg is a satisfaction, but nothing like the first wild-laid egg. -At the earliest chance, the finder meets a brother keeper, and his -story of the finding loses nothing in the telling, while it gains a -good deal from the envy on the brother keeper's face. - - * * * * * - - -Pheasants' Eggs - -By the middle of April, the gamekeeper finds that a few of his -pheasants are sitting. They are the older hens. Those that begin to lay -early in April do not often lay more than ten or twelve eggs before -beginning to sit. But it is not unusual for a young hen to lay fifteen, -seventeen, or even more eggs. That the older hens should lay fewer eggs -suggests that they have no more than they can furnish with the heat -necessary for hatching. Later on, in warmer weather, a pheasant can -manage half as many eggs again as in early spring. The old hens have -eggs well on the way towards hatching before hens still in their first -year have begun to lay. Pheasants commonly lay eggs in each other's -nests. We have known a pheasant even to lay eggs in a thrush's nest, -built on the ground beneath a furze-bush. Like the nest, three of the -four thrush's eggs were destroyed by the intruder. The keeper well -knows how to take advantage of this slovenly habit of his pheasants. -About ten days before the time when he expects them to begin to lay in -earnest, he makes up a number of false nests, into which he puts either -imitation nest-eggs, or addled eggs saved from the last season. Having -some respect for the sweetness of his pocket, he takes the precaution -of boiling the addled eggs for several hours in lime-water. He makes -up the false nests in places where the eggs shall be comparatively -safe; his great object being to induce his birds to lay at home, and -not to stray away into his neighbour's coverts. The method saves much -time in searching for nests. But even when he has the best of luck, a -keeper would not be a proper keeper if he did not complain that his -hens are laying on his neighbour's ground. Not unusually, three or four -hens lay in the same nest--we have known six to lay in one nest, and -on one day. From three nests within fifty yards of each other we have -counted more than one hundred eggs--and this in a place where pheasants -were few. It is a great satisfaction to the keeper to find one of these -co-operative nests. He knows that if he leaves the hens to themselves, -their eggs will soon be piled up in the nest on top of each other, like -a heap of stones. No one pheasant could hatch out such a prodigious -clutch, even if left in undisputed possession. What usually happens is -that some hens want to lay and others to sit, so that between them the -eggs are spoiled. The keeper anticipates trouble by collecting the eggs -and distributing them elsewhere for hatching. He knows that his fowls -will not hatch out as high a proportion of pheasant eggs from large -nests as from smaller ones, since few are given the regular turning -necessary to preserve their fertility. But, in spite of this knowledge, -there is a deal of friendly rivalry among keepers as to who shall find -the nest with the most eggs. - - * * * * * - - -Hens in Cocks' Feathers - -A mule pheasant is a sterile hen who has assumed more or less the -plumage of a cock. We cannot say we have ever heard one of these -transformed hens give vent to a crow. But once we owned a game-bantam -hen, who, without changing into cock's plumage, crowed in a way -that would have done credit to any fine rooster. The keeper does -not appreciate a barren hen pheasant, whether or not she wears -cock's feathers. She is an unproductive loafer, and is likely to be -destructive to the chicks of other hens, both to wild ones and those -reared artificially. Disappointed in motherhood herself, she is jealous -that others should be mothers. - - * * * * * - - -About Nesting Pheasants - -Pheasants' eggs vary strangely in shade: they show a much wider range -of shading than partridges', from almost white through the most -delicate gradations of blue-green and olive-brown to the rich, warm -hue of the nightingale's egg. The keeper prefers the eggs with the -deeper tones, persuading himself that they will produce the strongest -chicks. He has small faith in the fertility of eggs that are very light -in hue, and he holds to an idea that if a light, sky-blue egg hatches -at all it will produce a pied chick. When a hen lays in another's -nest, it is rather by some subtle distinction of shape than by colour -that the keeper discovers the trespasser's eggs: for the eggs of one -bird may vary much in shade. The nest is a simple affair, merely a -shallow hollow, scratched out, ringed by dry grass or leaves or any -dead material of the sort within easy reach; if dry grass is plentiful -a generous supply fringes the hollow, but a pheasant is not one to -trouble to fetch and carry for her nest. Cunning as she may be in the -choice of a site, no instinct or reason prompts her to go a yard away -to collect material, however plentiful at that short distance, for -comfort and warmth. Her fabric, plentiful or scanty, is arranged in -a typical fashion. Standing in the middle of her scraped-out hollow, -she throws the bits of grass or the leaves over her back, so that the -margin of the nest corresponds to the size of her body. Sometimes a -fowl is seen going through this performance; the goose also employs -this primitive instinctive manner of gauging her nest's dimensions. - -All game-birds lay their eggs on the ground. Though pheasants are -peculiarly fond of perching in trees, by day as well as by night, -they rarely make a nest off the ground; though now and again one may -see a nest placed a few feet high in a tree, resting on a mattress of -ivy or on the ruins of other nests--the derelict homes of pigeons, -perhaps occupied later by squirrels. Pheasants will also sometimes make -use of those convenient hollows to be found on the top of underwood -stumps; and doubtless would do so more often if it were not for the -unyielding nature of wood, which they cannot scratch into shape as -instinct prompts. In rides where the old underwood stumps have not been -grubbed, pheasants love to nest on the stumps' tops. In spite of annual -trimming, the stumps for years continue to throw up a mass of leafy -shoots. The pheasant creeps between them, and is perfectly hidden--at -least, as to her head and body. We recall a nest in such a spot within -a foot of a path where many people passed daily. Not one discovered the -pheasant's secret, except a keeper who saw her protruding tail. The -pheasant had forgotten about her tail. Naturally the keeper was annoyed -at her stupidity in thinking that because her body was hidden her tail -could not be seen. Fearing lest others should discover the nest on this -account, he went for a pair of his wife's scissors, and made sure that -the tail would tell no more stories. - - * * * * * - - -The Broody Hen - -The wisest poultry-farmer does not understand broody hens better than -the gamekeeper. The ways of the broody hen are at once deep, and -stupid, and annoying. No power on earth will force a broody hen to -sit when she is in a revolting spirit. To take a hen from the nest of -her choice and expect her to sit properly on a fresh nest, where even -pheasants' eggs costing a shilling apiece await her, usually means -disappointment. Yet it is as risky to put the pheasants' eggs in the -broody hen's chosen nest. Other hens will disturb her, rats are likely -to steal the eggs, dogs may worry her, and she cannot be relied upon -to return to her own nest after going off to feed. And if she may leave -the nest at her own free will she is liable to sit too long without -a break. Her eggs in that case do not have enough fresh air, and the -heat of the hen diminishes through want of food, so that weak chicks -develop, and may fail even to break their shells. So the keeper is -obliged to provide a suitable nest, and to try to induce the broody hen -to take to it kindly. He finds that an empty cheese-box with a lid will -make a capital nesting-box for occasional use. If rats are feared, he -encases the box in an armour of wire-netting. Then within he fashions -a shallow nest, using firm mould, and adding a little bruised straw; -if the hollow is too deep the eggs may be piled on each other, and the -hen cannot plant her feet comfortably or sit evenly over the eggs. The -hollow is lined with a ring or collar of twisted straw, to retain the -warmth of the hen, and prevent her eggs falling out when she moves her -feet to turn round. Then the keeper goes off for the broody hen, which -he carries in a sack of open texture. Whether or not a hen is really -broody may be determined most easily at night. A hen chosen by day, -though she imitates the broody plaint, may be intent only on laying -eggs--not on sitting. But the hens who are in earnest will be found -in the nests after dark; and they are known by their dull combs. Into -the sitting-box the keeper shuts the hen of his choice, leaving her -with a nest-egg or two by way of encouragement. He is in no hurry to -give her live eggs. He waits until she is well settled after the move, -and has had time to round up the nest to her liking. At first she may -be inclined to stand, or at least not to go down properly; but after -a little while she will be found spread out in the proper fashion of -the hen who intends to hatch eggs at all costs, and she will complain -loudly, and peck fiercely if touched. And then she is entrusted with -the precious eggs. - -Once a day the keeper gently lifts each broody hen off the nest to -feed, tethering her by a string tied to her leg or shutting her into a -coop. On the first day she is taken from the eggs only for ten minutes; -but her time off is gradually increased, as the eggs require more -oxygen, to half an hour during the second week of sitting, and then to -three-quarters of an hour or longer towards the end of the third week, -if the weather proves genial. Plenty of air is good for the chicks in -the eggs, especially during the last days of the hatching. A hen was -accidentally kept from her eggs for a whole afternoon on the day before -they were due to hatch; yet all the thirteen eggs hatched out, and -stronger chicks were never seen. - - * * * * * - - -The Frenchmen's Nests - -The red-legged partridge begins to nest quite a week earlier than -the English birds. The keeper expects to find his first partridge's -egg about April 25: and probably it will be a Frenchman's. Great -will be his satisfaction if the first egg should happen to be an -English bird's. The same friendly rivalry exists between neighbouring -keepers as to who shall find the first partridge egg as with the first -pheasant's egg. Not until May will the partridges' laying season be in -full swing. English partridges nest always on the ground, but Frenchmen -sometimes nest so far aloft as on the top of a straw-rick. So they -escape the fox, which tears the English birds off their nests on all -sides. There is an idea in the heads of country folk that the French -partridge habitually deserts her first clutch of eggs without cause. -No doubt this delusion has arisen from the forsaken appearance of the -birds' nests and eggs; when stained by soil, the eggs look decidedly -stale. While the mother bird never deserts her nest without good cause, -she is in no hurry about nesting; and there are often long intervals -between the laying of the first egg, the completion of the clutch, and -the beginning of sitting operations. We have heard of a case where this -interval was one of six weeks. Yet a full brood was hatched. - -French partridges have a good deal in common with guinea-fowls. The -call which members of a covey of Frenchmen make to each other bears the -strongest resemblance to the guinea-fowl's "Go-back, go-back." They -are alike in making a deep "scrape" in the soil for their nest, which -is complete when the hollow has been scratched to their liking. Then -the dingy-white ground-colour and the rusty speckles of their eggs are -similar; and the eggs of guinea-fowl and of Frenchmen are commonly -found well plastered and stained with soil, through being turned over -in the unlined nest. The eggs have notably thick shells. - - * * * * * - - -The Last of the Hurdlers - -The ancient art of making hurdles is fast dying out. In a small -Hampshire village, where a score of hurdlers could have been found a -quarter of a century ago, to-day but one or two old men remain who can -make a hurdle of the genuine sort. The reason is not that hurdle-making -is profitless, for there is a demand for good workers, and the rate -of pay is higher than of old--from four to five shillings for a dozen -hurdles, which represent a day's hard work. But few boys follow the old -calling of the hurdler, probably because a long apprenticeship must be -served. There is difficulty in finding a qualified man to take a boy -in charge; and for a long while the boy would be useful only to strip -the rods of knots, and would earn but a nominal wage. At other work -his earnings would be enough at least to pay his share of the family -expenses at home. So that few hurdlers see their way to teach even -their own sons this honourable trade. - - * * * * * - - -Hurdlers' Science - -The first stage in making a hurdle is the splitting of the rods; and -this is an art calling for years of practice before such perfect -efficiency is attained that the worker can divide each rod exactly -down the centre with his eyes shut. The bill-hook is inserted at -the rod's smaller end, the other end is held between the knees, and -the straight, clean split is made by directing the pressure of the -bill-hook one way or the other--the edge of the hook being turned -towards that side of the rod which threatens to splinter. When the rods -are split, the "salins"--the upright stakes which form the framework of -the hurdle--are fixed into the "mole"--a solid piece of wood, slightly -curved, and drilled with holes. "Spurs" are the small, round, unsplit -rods woven over the top and bottom to prevent slipping. The weather has -much to do with the ease and speed of the work. Cold, sunless days with -east winds tend to make the rods brittle, and then when a binding spur -is being wound into place it will break, and part of the hurdle must be -remade. Drought hardens the wood, and the rods lose elasticity. A hard -frost may freeze the wood's moisture, and the rods may then snap. The -most favourable weather is sunny, but not scorching, with occasional -light showers. In wet weather the strongest worker is terribly -handicapped, and rheumatism, sooner or later, is almost certain to take -hold of him. - - * * * * * - - -[Illustration: HAMPSHIRE HURDLES - -LONDON, EDWARD ARNOLD.] - - -The Woodman - -Not all who work in the woods are entitled to the name of woodman: a -word standing for an ancient and an honourable calling. The woodman -proper is an estate official, a sort of general foreman over the -underwood and the timber. He ranks a grade below the gamekeeper. A man -of parts, he knows his woods through and through. He can tell you the -exact age of the various growths of underwood, for it is his duty to -advise what shall be cut each year, to map it out in lots for sale, to -undertake the marking and felling of timber, and to see to the upkeep -of covert fences, and the trimming of rides. He receives a retaining -weekly wage, except when he is turning underwood to account or laying -a hedge, when he is paid by the piece. In time of need, the gamekeeper -calls on the woodman's assistance, and he seldom goes long in want of a -rabbit. The keeper is always generous with his friends and allies. - - * * * * * - - -A Dying Race - -Below the woodman in rank, and not rightly to be called a woodman, is -the copse-worker, or copser; a piece-worker, free to work for any one -who will give him a job. He is a skilled craftsman, one of a dying -race, for his boys are kept too long at school ever to take kindly to -his calling. This is his constant complaint: and he will air his views -freely on "eddication" and the making of "scholards." He himself -had only enough learning drubbed into him to allow him to make every -night an entry of his day's work--so many bavins, so many bundles of -pea-sticks, so many fencing-poles. His daily earnings fluctuate with -the quality of the wood, which he is sure to declare is nothing like -what it was in the days of his youth. - - * * * * * - - -Choice Nesting-Places - -It is the keeper's lot to make the best of many a bad job. If he could -have his way, all underwood would be chopped and stacked in neat -piles by the middle of April, so that his nesting birds might enjoy -undisturbed peace in his woods. In olden days, all underwood was cut, -worked up, and cleared off the ground by certain fixed dates so that -the new shoots of the shorn stumps had full measure of light and air. -But the dates are no longer remembered, and the work is carried on -into early summer. The birds benefit in some ways. Pheasants find the -long rows of felled underwood very attractive as nesting-places, and -many pairs of partridges decide to give them a trial. Pheasants and -partridges prefer to nest in dead material--it is warmer and drier than -greenstuff, does not hold dew or rain, and cannot grow, and so possibly -upset the nest. Dry leaves are driven by the wind beneath the rows of -wood, so nesting material is plentiful. And there is no dense canopy -of leaves to shut out the sun that is so loved by the sitting birds. - - * * * * * - - -Hidden Nests - -Much underwood remains in the long drifts where it was laid after -cutting until well on in May, and even into June. The keeper may search -carefully, but unless the rows are very narrow and thin he can hope to -find only a few of the many nests they shelter. Especially difficult is -it to find the partridge nests. The finding is almost as much a matter -of luck as of skill, for the eggs are covered completely by the birds -with a drab quilt of leaves, perfectly matching the surroundings. The -eggs of pheasants, too, though the birds seldom cover them, are often -hidden through the play of the leaves in the wind. Even should a bird -be sitting on her nest, she is not easily found--unless the keeper -catches the glint of her dark eye. Her feathers are merely one shade -more in the prevailing blends of brown. The woodworker, keeping the -most careful watch for nests, often does not see the sitting bird until -he strips the underwood from her very back. - - * * * * * - - -A Mutual Understanding - -Between the gamekeeper and copsers in his woods there is an unwritten -agreement, making for the good of all. The workers take heed and -care of the game-nests, and the keeper sees that they are rewarded -according to the care. He does not pay people to find nests, but to -protect those discovered in the course of daily work--a small sum, by -way of encouragement, usually a shilling for each nest. But the copser, -while chopping up the rows of underwood, finds a good many small nests, -with three or four eggs each, and the keeper may agree to pay him a -penny for each of these odd eggs, as he calls them, and a shilling -for each more respectable nest saved. The copser must leave cover for -a few yards around the nests, and do nothing to disturb the tenancy. -When the nest is so situated that it causes no inconvenience or delay -to the copser's work, the shilling is paid only when the eggs hatch; -in special cases the keeper takes the risk of safe hatching. It is a -proud moment for the copser when he makes a satisfactory report of -a nest. "That there old bird over agen they ash-stems," he will say -delightedly, "she be hatched and gone, master." - - * * * * * - - -Many Guardians - -Often a keeper must give judgment as to who is entitled to the reward -for a nest found and protected by two or three men. It would be easy -if the spirit of justice were satisfied by handing the shilling to -the man who first found the nest; or if a shilling were given to each -man; but this would make up an alarming account for nest-money. So the -keeper may give the first finder a shilling, and the others a couple -of rabbits each. It would not be policy to foster a man's interest -only in the nest which he finds himself, and is the first to find, -for a nest may need the guardianship of many workers. First it may be -found by a copser, working up underwood; he keeps an eye upon it for a -week, finishes his job, and departs. Then a hurdler comes, or perhaps -a hoop-maker, who starts work, sees the nest and guards it for awhile. -And then the nest catches the eye of a carter when he comes to fetch a -load of wood; he notes the position, lest it should come to harm under -the hoofs of his horse or the wheels of his waggon--and after his day's -work he may walk a mile or two to lay his information at the keeper's -cottage. - -When three men work in the same part of a wood, one may have the luck -to find several nests, and the others may have no luck. So the men, if -good mates, arrange to pool the nest-money; but sometimes the lucky -man is avaricious. The keeper must study the vagaries of luck and -character. Some men will be spoiled by too liberal rewards; but an -extra shilling or two may be well spent if it prevents a sour man from -thinking he has been harshly treated. The keeper knows the labourer as -a man who broods much, and is slow to forgive an insult, or to forget -an injustice. And he knows it makes all the difference to his own work -if the men who labour in the woods for six months in the year are his -friends and allies. This, in turn, is no bad thing for them--many odd -jobs the keeper puts in their way when work is slack, and he puts many -rabbits into their hands to the comfort of their hearts. - - * * * * * - - -Mark's Day - -The twenty-fifth day of April is one of the keeper's high days. A large -number of the twenty or thirty thousand gamekeepers in this country -then commit their first batches of pheasant eggs to the care of broody -hens. Some keepers cling to this date because their fathers did so -before them, in the same way that ancestral etiquette decrees that on -a certain fair-day cabbage seed must be sown. No decided advantage is -to be gained by very early hatching; but by April 25 the keeper usually -has a goodly collection of eggs, taken from wild birds' nests, and -their quality does not improve if kept, in an artificial way, longer -than a fortnight. Eyes ignorant of woodcraft would pass a pheasant's -nest which no keeper could fail to see; and would pass unseeingly over -the brown form of the sitting bird, heedless of the bright, dark eyes -that keenly watch the intruder's movements. Pheasants like a little -light cover, but do not care to nest in thick and tangled undergrowth. -They love sunshine, and prefer a site where falls a shaft of the -morning sun; if you note the position of a sitting pheasant, you will -probably find that her face is sunwards. The mother bird is very -jealous of the sanctity of her nest; if disturbed she does not often -return. The keeper, passing by a sitting pheasant, passes by as though -he had seen nothing. - - * * * * * - - -The Old, Old story - -The story of pheasant-rearing begins with the collection of eggs from -wild nests and from penned birds. Then comes the collection of broody -hens to play the part of foster-mother. Then the lime-washing of the -nest-boxes. Hundreds of wooden boxes, each compartment measuring -fifteen inches square, are placed in lines in a shed or an open field; -the nests are roughly fashioned in the boxes, of turf and soil, moss, -meadow-hay, and straw. And on the nests are set broody hens, beneath -which, when they have proved their worthiness, are placed from fifteen -to twenty eggs. Heaps of soaked corn and pans of water are made ready, -and once a day the hens are lifted off their nests to be fed and -watered, and to allow fresh air to play on the eggs. A rope runs on the -ground before the boxes, and to this the hens are tethered. The keeper -lifts off and tethers his hens at the rate of three or four to the -minute. - - * * * * * - - -The Luck of Pheasant-rearing - -Seventeen is the regulation number of pheasant eggs to be put beneath -each hen, and seventeen chicks are put with each hen in the coops in -the rearing-field. The most motherly hens are selected for service on -the rearing-field. Less careful mothers are turned out when they have -hatched the eggs, or, if they are willing, are supplied with another -clutch. A hen that will hatch several clutches is too useful to be -honoured with the task of bringing up a brood, and must be content to -play the part of a living incubator. The keeper knows his hens through -and through--and he can tell when a hen has chicks without seeing them, -by the bristling of her feathers at his approach, and her instinctive -clucking. - -An incubator helps the keeper to cope with the whims and frailties of -broody hens. It is always ready to receive those unexpected eggs which -may be brought to his cottage at any moment, as when sitting birds are -disturbed by sheep or cut out in the mowing grass. And it is ready -to take charge of the eggs abandoned by a fowl, or the chipped eggs -of a foster-mother which shows an inclination to crush the chicks as -hatched. Yet it will be long before it ousts the broody barn-door hen -from the rearing-field. - -In the days before incubators, keepers who found themselves with more -eggs than hens were forced to strange shifts. One keeper saved the -situation with the help of ducks. Wild duck nested in numbers on an -island in a lake, and one spring day he took six hundred pheasants' -eggs to the island, exchanging them for the eggs of the sitting -ducks. The ducks proved excellent sitters, but as his hens became -available he would punt to the island to relieve the ducks of their -charge. Pheasants were more prized in those days than wild duck. -Such a sacrifice of duck for pheasants would be saved to-day by the -ever-ready incubator. - -While pheasant-rearing is chiefly a matter of skill, luck plays a part -in success, and of course a light warm soil, a good situation, a good -supply of natural food, and good weather make all the difference. If -eighty eggs hatch out in a hundred this is considered good; if less -than seventy hatch, this is bad. A keeper may congratulate himself -if he turns a thousand pheasants into covert from fifteen hundred -eggs set; anything below one bird turned into covert from two eggs is -considered a poor result. Keepers believe that chicks cannot be hatched -too late in May or too early in June. - -After about twenty-four days the eggs hatch, and the little chicks are -taken with the hens to coops placed in readiness in the rearing-field; -a place so jealously guarded by the keeper as to be in his eyes sacred -land. Four or five times daily the chicks must be fed--at first on -eggs, to which is added later a mixture of biscuit-meal, rice, greaves, -and small bird-seed, until boiled corn becomes the staple food. Every -night the chicks must be shut carefully into their coops--a long and -tiresome task. The danger of enteritis looms up--ten thousand chicks -may be swept off in a week. When five or six weeks old, chicks, hens, -and coops are carted away in waggons to the woods, where the chicks -must face the dangers of vermin by night as well as by day until they -learn to go to roost. - - * * * * * - - -From Egg to Larder - -For the keeper the days and nights spent in his rearing-fields pass -in incessant anxiety. He never counts his pheasants before they are -hatched. He may count them as morsels of fluff; when they begin to use -their babyish wings; again when they fill the broad ride with a mass of -seething brown--but not until the bracken is dead, and the trees are -naked, and the game-cart has borne away its burden, does he count them -as his own. Nor does his anxiety cease until the long tails hang safely -in his larder. - - * * * * * - - -Fine Eggs and Good Mothers - -"They be a good lot of eggs," the keeper will inform you as he reveals -his store, ready to be given to the quickening warmth of broody fowls. -"I don't know as ever I set eyes on better," he will add, "and I don't -expect you have neither." If you denied this he would not believe -you. His pheasants' eggs are like the apple blossoms: each year more -beautiful than ever. And the more plentiful the more beautiful. -Noting the keeper, as he goes out in search of broody hens, you might -mistake him for a dealer in rags and bones. He tramps all round the -countryside with an old sack slung over his back--one of the light, -thin kind in which dog-biscuits come; or sometimes he drives in a gig, -and poultry-farmers welcome him gladly. He pays half a crown or three -shillings for each hen in broody mood, and so helps to make poultry -pay. His difficulty is to find broody hens at the time when he most -needs them. The ideal is a healthy bird, not one with pallid comb or -inclined to mope; she must be of medium size and of light weight, with -short legs, small feet, and a wealth of downy feathers. Above all, she -must be quiet in demeanour. The fidgety, fussy hen may have excellent -intentions, but is likely to cause disaster to her eggs and chicks. A -big hen with the sprawliest feet, but of gentle disposition, and slow -to anger, will often prove a better foster-mother than one a model in -form, feather, and feet, but in temperament a spitfire. - - * * * * * - - -The Cub-stealing Shepherd - -Illicit traffic in fox-cubs and partridge eggs is hard to stamp -out. So long as men will buy fox-cubs and eggs there will be men to -supply them. If there were no buyers there would be middlemen, and -there would be fewer cubs which bear the label, "From Germany." Cubs, -wherever they come from, fetch a good price, giving ample profit for -an hour's hard digging--say ten shillings each. Cub-snatching is less -risky than egg-stealing. So far as we know, even to kill cubs is not -an offence against the law, and so there can hardly be a penalty for -taking them alive. The worst that could happen to the culprit would -be a prosecution for simple trespass and damage. A cunning, rascally -cub-stealer of our acquaintance was employed by none other than the -local M.F.H. He was a shepherd, and nothing pleased him better than -to hear that foxes were plentiful when hounds came his way. He knew -that in the spring he would reap many pounds by cub-snatching, and -with small risk of rousing suspicion. But one spring morning he was -caught in the very act of cub-snatching, and then he ceased to be that -Master's shepherd. - - * * * * * - - -Lures and Charms - -The old-fashioned professional rat-catcher is seen as rarely as the -mole-catcher, with his rude traps of wood, wire and string, actuated -by a spring of green wood from the hedgerow. And with the rat-catcher -have passed the secrets of his calling--how, when and where to use oils -and essences to attract rats to their doom. He knew how to handle rats -alive with his naked hands, and the trick of squeezing the life from -their bodies. The experienced take rats by the back of the throat, but -unless the grip is made in just the right way a dangerous bite may be -received. The safest plan for the inexperienced is to take live rats -by the tip end of their tails; then they are helpless, since their -own weight keeps their heads down. Mice, treated in this way, would -curl up and nip their captor's fingers in a twinkling. He was a deep -character, the old rat-catcher. If there were many rats he would -destroy many--but if few he would take good care to leave behind him -some fine specimens for stock. No doubt the oils and preparations -invented by himself, or handed down to him by his ancestors, would not -only attract rats for his catching, but would attract others after he -had gone, so that his trade was kept alive. Thus, perhaps, arose the -old saying that if you kill one rat twelve friends will come to its -funeral. Oils are still used as lures by the fish-poacher, and also -by the gamekeeper. To draw rats into his traps the keeper sprinkles -them with the sweet-scented oil of rhodium-wood and oil of aniseed. To -attract cats he uses tincture of valerian; the essences in the root of -that plant having so great a charm for cats that it will draw them from -far and near. To attract stoats and weasels he uses oil of musk. To -entice a fox, a dead cat is one of the best lures: many a fox, to our -knowledge, has owed its death to an over-keenness in unearthing a cat -that had been shot and lightly buried. We have heard that dog-stealers -induce dogs to follow them by carrying a piece of wart from a horse's -leg--we know a simpler plan. The keeper's woodcraft teaches him many -ways to charm wild creatures to their destruction. A common trick to -bring rabbits from their holes is to imitate the squeal of a rabbit in -fear, by applying the lips to the back of the hand, and producing a -tremulous sucking sound. Possibly the rabbits think that a brother is -in distress, and come to see from curiosity. - - * * * * * - - -The Law and the Peewit - -The eggs of plovers in some parts are now receiving protection all the -year round, the Board of Agriculture having given notice that peewits -feed wholly to the benefit of field crops and do no injury whatever to -the interests of farmers. The greedy and the thoughtless have taken -plovers' eggs in unreasonable numbers, and total protection is to be -welcomed. It may be argued that peewits' eggs are a rare delicacy, and -wholesome food; that where they may be taken a limited number of old -men may earn a few shillings; that a law superior to find-and-take -would be difficult to enforce; also that taking the eggs until about -the middle of April does not materially affect the numbers of peewits. -What with the effects of frosts and the destruction of eggs during the -tillage of fields, such as harrowing the fallows and rolling the grass -and cornfields, where peewits mostly nest, the greater portion of the -first layings cannot in any case survive. But those allowed to take -eggs for the sake of profit will not stop at early ones, and peewits -are such useful birds that thorough protection for all the eggs would -be the best policy. - - * * * * * - - -The Partridge and the Peewit - -The partridge and the peewit seem to lead almost blameless lives. -We could claim that the productive value of land is improved by the -presence of partridges and peewits. There is no end to the good work of -partridges. Even when they devour grain, they are innocent of doing -harm, for they eat only such grain as is shed on the stubbles--waste -grain which none could grudge them. They never seek out grain newly -sown, like the rooks. When a field has been harrowed, directly the -men and horses have gone, the partridges gather in numbers to feed, -and though they may come after the field has been sown, they come as -readily before, as it is not the grain, but the slugs, grubs, worms, -and insects they are seeking; bits of weeds and their seeds, aphides, -earwigs, and ants' eggs are eagerly devoured. - - * * * * * - - -A Friend to Agriculture - -The partridge is disheartened when a broad acreage is laid down to -grass; insect food grows scarce, and he soon takes his departure. On -arable land thrown out of cultivation the birds will thrive, because -of the hosts of weeds that spring up, and give them food and shelter; -insect food is found on the surface, and partridges multiply. But -nothing suits them better than highly cultivated arable land. The more -the soil is worked, as by harrows, the more food they are able to -find--and the more good they do by destroying insects and grubs that -injure delicate roots. Where land is needed for partridges there is -every need also of the peasant; and partridges bring the peasant many a -shilling for nests, and, when work is scarce, many a day's employment -at good wages (such as wages are), with a hearty lunch into the -bargain. - - * * * * * - - -The Rats in the Stacks - -No doubt one reason why farmers fail to co-operate properly with -gamekeepers in keeping rats down is because they do not see the damage -which rats inflict upon them. A farmer is deeply troubled if he sees -a blade of corn or grass nibbled by a rabbit; he will make frantic -efforts to secure that rabbit--which has a market value. But a rat does -little visible damage, and when dead is worth nothing. Another cause -of apathy is that the farmer knows how useless it is to deal with the -rats on his own premises when the supply is promptly renewed from his -neighbours'. In a single corn-stack he entertains cheerfully, perhaps, -500 rats. Assuming that each rat eats three pints of corn a week, -the 500 rats in three months eat fifty pounds' worth of corn, to say -nothing of the grain and straw they damage. In a day, ten rats will -consume enough food to keep a man. If anything further were needed to -impress a rat-cherishing farmer, we might point to the statement that -a female rat may be responsible, theoretically, for between twenty and -thirty thousand descendants in the course of twelve months. But it -is left to the gamekeeper to be the rat-catcher of the countryside. -The farmer goes cheerfully to bed, unaware that rats are enjoying -themselves in his stacks to the tune of two or three pounds a day. -Many keepers destroy two or three thousand rats in a year. - - * * * * * - - -Thoughts on Rat-hunting - -As a hunter of rats the gamekeeper has no equal, though he could do -little without the help of his trusty ferrets and ratting terriers. -He and his assistants are on terms of thorough understanding. We know -an old keeper whose ferrets seem to have a strong affection for him; -they are quiet to handle, and are treated as pets, but they are the -best ratting ferrets in the world. The keeper does not care to use good -rabbiting ferrets for ratting: they may be lost and bitten to death--a -rat bite is always dangerous. Ratting ferrets need peculiar qualities, -and are not necessarily the most ferocious of their kind. - -The keeper's ferrets seldom nip him, for he knows how to handle them. A -ferret nips, and is not to be blamed for it, when a hand suddenly makes -a grab at him without warning. The keeper's way to attract a ferret's -attention is by speaking before touching. "Come on, Betty," or "Come -on, Jack," he says in soothing tones, as he boldly puts forward his -hand. His passwords of friendship are useful for coaxing a ferret from -a hole or from impenetrable bushes. The ferrets tell him if a rat is -near by the action of their tails as they enter a burrow, working them -after the manner of a cat about to spring on a mouse. - - * * * * * - - -When Cats are Angered - -Why should cats and ferrets at times lash their tails when approaching -prey? The tail-lashing suggests suppressed excitement, also a way of -gaining impetus or steadiness for a spring. But we think it should -be read chiefly as a sign of hostility and ferocity. A ferret enters -a burrow, discovers that there is a rat a little distance from him, -is angered, grows excited at the prospect of a fight, and lashes -his tail. But we have never observed a ferret to lash his tail when -approaching a rabbit--comparatively a harmless prey. A cat gives the -same storm-signal when annoyed, as when her fur is rubbed the wrong -way, or when she is about to spring on a mouse or a rat, each capable -of retaliation. But she seems to lash her tail chiefly when her prey -has come suddenly to her notice without warning; when she has been -lying for a long time in wait for a mouse, her tail hardly twitches, -in spite of her excitement; she is cool and collected, and her spring -brings certain death. - - * * * * * - - -Hunters' Thirst - -When rat-hunting, and working hard, ferrets and dogs grow excessively -thirsty. One old keeper friend always takes the trouble to carry with -him a small flask of water for his ferrets, offering it to them at -intervals in the palm of his hand. For his dogs also he carries water -and a tin dish--while he seldom goes out ratting without a gallon jar -containing what he describes as "a little summat" for himself. - - * * * * * - - -Life-in-Death - -Now and again it happens that a ferret is killed accidentally while at -work. And sometimes dead ferrets return to life, health, and strength -in a way to put even cats to shame. We recall how a rat-hating keeper's -wife, notorious for the quality of her right arm, was one day helping -her husband to hunt rats in a wood-shed. On the ferret suddenly popping -out his head from a wood-pile, the good woman lost her wits, and aimed -a shrewd blow with her poker at the ferret's nose. In tears, she left -the poor little beast still and stark. A gardener was asked to bury -it, and plant a carnation over the grave. He found it in the dustbin, -eating the head of a duck. - -In another case, a rat-hunter knocked a ferret with a hurdle-stake -from the eaves of a corn-stack far out into a field, where it was -picked up apparently dead, and put into a bag. Some hours later the -body was tipped from the bag into a little grave, when it startled -the gravedigger by gasping for breath. In a little while the corpse -celebrated its resurrection by slaughtering all the pheasants in a pen, -and just as they were beginning to lay. Once we saw a ferret struck -by a pellet from a gun, which went through its head, a hair's-breadth -below the eyes. Both eyes were blinded; yet the ferret recovered, and -lived and worked as long and well as most of its kind. Ferrets are -tougher than they look. The weak spot, no doubt, is in the lungs. - - * * * * * - - -Ideal Ratters - -The present type of show fox-terrier is too big and too long in the -leg for ratting in hedges. Little dogs are called for, full of sense -and pluck, with wide heads, strong jaws, bully chests and short bodies -on short legs, which carry them as quick as lightning almost anywhere -among the thorn hedges. The keeper does not care for his ratting -terriers to hunt anything but rats--and the difference in the work of a -rat specialist and a general-purpose dog must be seen to be believed. -He does not enter his puppies to old rats, for the puppies may be badly -bitten, and perhaps their ardour and dash will be ruined, and they will -never look at a rat again. - -The general-purpose terrier develops grave faults. If a rabbit or a -hare is started, he prefers giving chase to going on with the rat -business: he attacks ferrets as well as rats, and he prevents rats from -bolting by jumping about over the burrows and poking his nose into them -too freely. A terrier must be taught to restrain himself until a rat -has bolted. The keeper holds him down, cuffs and rates him soundly each -time he tries to go too soon, but gives lavish praise if he waits until -the right moment. After a time, the little terriers so well understand -the necessity for allowing rats to bolt that they will crouch as -motionless as statues, with their noses almost touching the edge of the -hole. So crafty was one we have owned, that she would crouch in this -way, with her body round the corner, out of sight. - -All plans for the destruction of rats are welcomed by the keeper, -because rats are the most numerous of all egg-thieves. He heartily -joins the foxes, stoats, and weasels in their war on rats, though he -is for ever at war with his co-operators. He believes that there are -now more rats than ever, and has figures at his finger-tips to prove -the growth of the rat-plague. If, he argues, there were only one rat to -every acre in England and Wales, and if each rat did damage only to the -extent of one farthing a day, the loss in a year would be £15,000,000. -And he quotes a report which says that a single poultry-fancier in -Dorsetshire lost £80 in a year through rats; that the owner of a -flour-mill lost £150 in a year, through the gnawing of sacks alone; -that men have attributed their bankruptcy chiefly to rats; and that the -damage done by rats in this country is greater than the damage done by -the cobra and tiger in India. - -The gamekeeper holds that there ought to be complete, organised -co-operation against rats over wide areas, and heavily blames the -farmers for not giving proper assistance to keepers in their rat-war. -By delaying over-long the threshing of their corn-stacks farmers -certainly give rats a grand chance to increase and multiply; and when -ricks are left unthreshed until April the rats leave them without let -or hindrance, to spread over the countryside as the weather grows -warmer, and food is to be found everywhere. The keeper argues that -ricks should be threshed betimes, to allow the rats to be properly -dealt with. A day or two beforehand he would have the rats which lie in -out-lying burrows, in neighbouring hedges, driven into the rick; this -can be effected by tainting the burrows with paraffin--a simple plan -is to blow in smoke from paraffin-steeped rags with a bee-smoker. Then -the keeper would have the rick surrounded by half-inch wire-netting. At -the time of the threshing he would like to be summoned to the scene, -and he would see to it that there were six or seven smart ratting-dogs -present, and that they were constantly supplied with drinking-water. -In one case where this plan was tried, six hundred rats were accounted -for from one rick. Even after threshing and rat-killing on these -lines, rats will be found, if sought, in hidden holes where the rick -stood--packed to suffocation to the number perhaps of seventy or eighty. - - * * * * * - - -Ratting without Ferrets - -The keeper does not always take his ferrets with him when he goes -ratting. Usually they are too large to enter rat-holes freely, and even -the small rat-ferret has difficulty in turning round. And when a ferret -has once entered a hole a rat cannot pass him, and so may be prevented -from bolting and showing sport. The sport takes place underground, -unless the ferret retreats while there is time. The fight ends either -in severe punishment for the ferret or in the death of the rat; when -the ferret proceeds to gorge himself on his victim--and to lie up. - -Again, it is more difficult to find a lingering ferret in a rat's hole -than in a rabbit's burrow; a line-ferret sent in to explore cannot move -about in the small rat passages as in the roomy tunnels of rabbits, and -so cannot locate the free ferret. To dig for a ferret in a rat's run is -always risky; the diameter is so small that the spade may cut through -without any warning, and also cut through the ferret. When the spade -breaks through the crown of a rabbit's hole, on the floor of which is -the ferret, the man with the spade naturally eases his pressure. But -the ferret fills the rat-hole to the roof. - -There is still another danger in ratting with ferrets; the dogs, unless -very well trained, may bring about a tragedy. Even when a dog is -ferret-proof the ferret may plunge teeth into the dog, who naturally -retaliates. On all these accounts the keeper may prefer to go ratting -with an iron bar in place of a ferret. - -By using an iron bar instead of ferrets for bolting rats, all kinds of -difficulties and delays are prevented; and the keeper is free to go -home at any time without having to wait for loitering allies. To strike -an iron bar into a rat's hole is to strike terror into the rat's heart. -One might probe a rabbit's burrow with a bar for a month, and no rabbit -would bolt--indeed, the more one probed the tighter would the rabbit -sit. In rabbiting, a bar is used only to find holes and save digging. -But thrust a bar anywhere near a rat's subterranean lair, and probably -the rat will bolt, as if possessed, at the first time of asking. Such -an effect does probing have on rats that they will fly before the -crowbar well knowing that enemies await their appearance. Even with a -dog at the hole who has grabbed at the rat more than once, the rat will -fly before a shrewd thrust. The art of thrusting is to drive the bar -into the hole behind the rat, not blocking the way by which it will -bolt. - -Rats seem to have a deep-rooted terror of anything that probes and -prods. Perhaps some of them when their holes are disturbed associate -the trouble with pitchforks. For hundreds of years rats have lived in -corn-ricks, and at threshing time when the sheaves have been lifted by -pitchforks have bolted furiously. The first thrust of the pitchfork -into a protecting sheaf puts out the rats, though well aware of the -presence of men and dogs. When the iron bar comes crashing into the -burrow, perhaps the rats half expect the soil to be uplifted as if it -were a sheaf of corn. - - - - -SUMMER - - -A Keeper Chorister - -The gamekeeper has a way of putting things to surprising and ingenious -uses. Usually he carries a dog-lead concealed somewhere about his -person--a yard or two of string attached to a simple spring clip; and -this lead serves a hundred purposes apart from restraining dogs. One -case we remember well, where a dog-lead saved a situation. The vocal -services of a keeper had been impressed for a festival of choirs; but -when he arrived, just before the procession was timed to start, it -was found that the one cassock which would encircle his figure was so -long that he could walk in it only with danger of falling. Of course -there was no string anywhere to be found, except in the shape of the -dog-lead. The dog-lead saved the day, and the robed procession started -off, lustily singing. It chanced that the keeper was one of the two -leading choirmen, and when he noticed that his companion was rather -headstrong in taking a corner, "Heel, will yer," he was heard to -mutter, absent-mindedly, as he flicked his friend with the snap of his -dog-lead from a besurpliced arm-hole; "heel, sir, heel." - - * * * * * - - -Velveteens - -There was something pleasing about the old familiar name for the -gamekeeper--"Velveteens": but it has been dropped almost completely, -because no longer appropriate. In the old times all gamekeepers were -clad in ample coats of velveteen. To-day, for one in velveteen you -may see a hundred in tweeds. And it is only the Cockney who calls the -keeper "Velveteens" to his face--thereby putting him on his dignity at -the least, if not insulting him. The old-time coat was pleasant to the -eye, so long as it was kept unspotted by rain. But its bloom departed -after a few minutes' exposure to a generous shower, and no amount of -drying or brushing would bring it back. Moreover, the shirt of the -man beneath the coat would probably suffer also from the wetting. The -best of velveteen was its thorn-resisting qualities. Tweeds resist -rain besides the thorns--the thick, heavy, closely-woven tweeds of the -neutral brown tint that are now the fashion for keepers' clothes. It -is a long time before they can be thoroughly wetted--and the keeper's -wife will tell you it is as long before they can be thoroughly dried. -They have two drawbacks--if made to fit closely and well they are -uncomfortable for shooting until almost worn out; and they are too hot -and heavy for summer wear. Employers would be investing profitably if -they allowed their keepers, instead of the one suit a year, a summer -and a winter suit. Comfort in dress makes a wonderful difference in -the keeper's work; hence the keeper's affection for his oldest things -and his scorn of appearances. His old breeches and gaiters become part -of himself. A keeper who always donned trousers on Sunday invariably -wore the old gaiters beneath them so that his legs might feel properly -encased. - - * * * * * - - -Owls and Hawks - -Small birds, like men, misunderstand the owl--and it is always a -curious sight to watch the mobbing of a night-bird by other smaller -birds. Presumably the angered birds mistake the owl for a hawk. At any -rate, they know him for a stranger, and no proven friend. When the -swallows are alarmed by the appearance of an owl in day-time, they -perform wonderful feats of flight, as they dart at the great bird from -every angle, and swerve about him in every degree of curve. We have -counted fourteen swallows' nests built in a shed against a pigeon -loft wherein a pair of barn-owls were rearing their three young ones; -we wondered how far the swallows were aware of the owls' presence, -and what they thought about it. If they mobbed a parent owl by day -there could be little real cause for their wrath--as little as when a -missel-thrush or a jay joins in the outcry raised in the wood against -the brown owl. - -Enlightened keepers leave all hawks unmolested, except perhaps on -the rare occasions when they catch one in the act of gamecide. -Beyond question, hawks as a rule do far more good to game interests -than harm; and the kestrel, if he ever does any harm, pays for it a -hundred-fold by his tireless industry in keeping down mice and voles. -Once we carefully watched for several weeks the nests of three pairs of -sparrow-hawks; and among the remains of their feasts the legs of only -one young pheasant were discovered. - - * * * * * - - -The Bold Sparrow-Hawk - -It is time, and high time, that sparrow-hawks were placed under the -protecting wing of the law. Generations of gamekeepers have persecuted -them relentlessly: it says much for their courage, strength, and -craftiness that any should remain to offer a target for the keeper's -gun. But they grow scarce; they are seen far less commonly than -kestrels, whose usefulness and innocence of gamecide is beginning to -be a little understood. If sportsmen would consider the evidence for -and against sparrow-hawks as despoilers of game--if they would rely -no longer on prejudice and crass ignorance--we feel sure they would -take steps to stay the wanton slaughter by their gamekeepers of these -handsome, useful birds. Keepers ought to be forbidden to destroy any -sparrow-hawks, except those which clearly prove themselves guilty of -killing game as a habit. How thoughtless, ruthless, and mistaken is the -keeper's zeal in killing them, we could show by a hundred instances. -To take one: It chanced that part of a patch of buckwheat had been -left unharvested, so that the pheasants might help themselves to the -grain. Thousands of small birds flocked to feed on the choice feast. A -gamekeeper noticed that sparrow-hawks found this patch of buckwheat a -fine hunting-ground, and would perch in a clump of tall trees near by. -He therefore hid himself in the trees, with a gun, and bagged four hen -sparrow-hawks, which had been well employed in thinning the ranks of -the small birds. - -Countrymen will speak of the cock sparrow-hawk as the little blue -hawk, as though it were a separate variety: not knowing that the -cock bird is about half the size of his mate. Blue hawks, pigeon -hawks, and five-barred hawks are among the sparrow-hawk's local -names, arising from the blue-grey colour of the upper parts of their -plumage, from their occasional habit of attacking wood-pigeons, and -from the five striking bars of brownish black on their tails. Less -common than kestrels, sparrow-hawks are far less conspicuous: while -the kestrel hovers high in the air on the look-out for prey (whether -a mouse or a grasshopper), the sparrow-hawk's way is to glide low -over the fields and along the hedges, swooping suddenly through gaps -to pounce on unsuspecting small birds. The size and shape of the -wings, and therefore the flights of the two birds, are very different. -The sparrow-hawk's wings are inclined to be rounded and short; the -kestrel's are long and pointed. While the young of the two birds have a -great deal in common, the fledged young may be distinguished readily -by the white spot on the lower part of the back of the sparrow-hawk's -head. Each bird has a fatal way of coming to investigate the sound of a -gunshot. If a shot is fired in the direction of a hawk flying far out -of range, say a hundred yards distant, it will instantly dart down and -towards the gunner, nearly always within easy range. We have seen this -happen many times. - - * * * * * - - -Nest and Young - -Like the kestrel, the sparrow-hawk is content with a slovenly nest, -which it builds of dead twigs on the ruins of other nests--usually -those of magpies, crows, or pigeons. Or it uses a squirrel's drey as -a foundation, or comes year after year to its own old home. Usually -the chosen site is not very high in a tree--larches and oaks are -favourites--and the nest will be found near the trunk: in short oaks it -may be in the cup formed where several branches spread away. We have -found a nest within ten feet of the ground. The nest, when you climb to -it, is much larger than it appears from below, and only a man with long -arms could encircle it. There may be five eggs, pale white, blotched -with dark chestnut-brown, the markings of eggs in one clutch sometimes -showing a beautiful variation, while the markings of the clutches of -different birds differ considerably. The shells, like those of the -kestrel's eggs, are very thick--even the hawk's sharp claws would -hardly puncture them without intentional effort. - -Should you hear a soft whistling in a wood--not unlike the whistling -of the farmer's wife when she calls her chickens to meals, but much -subdued--you may know there is a sparrow-hawk's nest not far away. -A glimpse of the whistler gives rise to a general alarm-cry among -blackbirds. If the whistling leads to the discovery of young hawks, -on your approach they will assume attitudes suggestive of disgust and -resentment. In their poses and markings there is something owl-like -about young hawks: and, as with young owls, there is a good deal of -difference in the size of the fledglings, and in the state of their -feathering. The strongest young one has the pick of the food, and -quickly outgrows his brothers and sisters. Should the mother bird -be killed, the cock will rear the family unaided on the small birds -on which they thrive. The preservation of woods has meant a steady -increase in the hosts of small birds, and hawks in consequence are -under no necessity to prey on game-birds. Some sparrow-hawks will -acquire the game-feeding habit: others will pounce by chance on a small -game-bird; but sparrow-hawks are in no way dependent on game, living -for the most part on finches and the like, thereby helping to preserve -the balance of scales of which the gamekeeper and his master take -little heed. - - * * * * * - - -The Keeper Outwitted - -One evening we were passing through a large, old-fashioned wood, when -we came upon a keeper feeding his pheasants--many hundreds of them: -and the talk went round to the question of sparrow-hawks and game. We -suggested that it was a wise keeper who spared the sparrow-hawk--that -this hawk did not kill game for a tithe of its food--and that the -time only came to kill it after it had been proved to attack game as -a habit. But the keeper would not hear of this; and he thanked his -stars, he said, that not a sparrow-hawk remained alive in his woods. -Just as he said these words we chanced to see before us on the ride, -in the middle of the long rank of pheasant coops, a dead blackbird. -The feathers lay scattered about the bird in a circle; there was every -sign of a sparrow-hawk's work. We called the keeper's attention to that -blackbird's body. He agreed that a hawk had killed it, and then we drew -from him the confession that he had not lost a single pheasant from a -sparrow- or any other hawk. The keeper told us a story of how a brood -of sparrow-hawks had been reared in a tree at the back of the very hut -in which the pheasants' food was mixed. Though the hut was also a sort -of watch-tower, yet the man who spent his days thereabouts had failed -to notice the hawks until the young birds left the nest. This is not to -say that the powerful old hen sparrow-hawk did not raid the pheasants; -but it is certain that she outwitted the under-keeper who worked daily -at the hut, and it proves that an under-keeper may not know all that is -to be known about sparrow-hawks and their ways. - - * * * * * - - -A Jackdaw Nursery - -Among the birds not loved by keepers are jackdaws. One old keeper -friend of ours has brought hundreds of jackdaws to a bad end. One -evening, years ago, when walking through a park, his keen eyes noticed -a hole high up in the stem of an ash-tree; and as he looked, out flew -a jackdaw--never to return. Passing that way again, another jackdaw -flew out, and paid the penalty of living in that keeper's preserves. -He found the hole to be a favourite place for these birds, for it made -an excellent nursery for the young. Season after season, the keeper -kept his eye on the hole. As he went by, he would make a peculiar -squeaking noise, which would call out any birds that might be at home. -The stem of the tree about the hole became riddled with shot with such -curious effect that when the tree fell the keeper cut out the section -containing the hole; and it may be seen in his parlour, among other -treasures, to this day. - - * * * * * - - -Detective Work - -The gamekeeper is a trained detective. He is for ever setting a trap -to catch a poacher. Across a ride where poachers may come at night, he -will stretch a piece of invisible twine or wire, and he is at pains -to place it just so far from a sharp stump that any one tripping will -probably break a nose. Anxious for a good night's rest, he keeps a -light burning in one of his cottage windows, so that the poachers may -think he is out and about; or when he goes out he pulls down a blind -in his bedroom, as if he were sleeping within. Meeting workmen in -the lanes near his preserves, he sends his dog for a sniff at their -dinner-baskets--the dog soon tells him if there is game inside where -should be bread and cheese. - - * * * * * - - -Cattle in the Woods - -A dreadful idea to the keeper is the thought of cattle in his coverts. -The worst that a mad bull could do in a china shop would make a -faint picture of destruction beside the havoc wrought by cattle in -well-stocked preserves. Happy the keeper whose coverts are guarded -by good fences in the days when flies torture cattle, and colts are -most mischievous. If in hot weather a breach has once been made in a -fence by cattle or horses, they will persist in trying to find their -way into the woods. One can only pity the pheasant who sits on her -eggs, on some sunny bank of a covert fence, while a herd of unbroken -cart-colts go lumbering round the field, each shouldering each in an -ill-judged swerve from the fence. Even in their calm moments colts are -inquisitive, and leave nothing alone that is living and within their -reach. We remember a case where a pheasant nested on the outside bank -of a wood, and the colts in the field, pushing into the living fence, -actually nosed her from her nest, and there was good evidence that they -then chawed every one of her eggs. Most difficult of all creatures -to keep out of woods are roaming swine. The strongest of live fences -offers only a temporary check to their boring ability. And pigs have -good noses, and few rabbit-stops and nests of eggs on the ground escape -them. If a keeper's woods are infested by pigs he can scarcely be -blamed for shooting his own bacon. - -The keeper has an eye for the trim and pleasing appearance of -his woods. He takes a genuine pleasure in their beauty. Jealous -of the untrodden appearance of his secret paths, his annoyance -is ill-concealed when the hunt cuts up his green rides. He would -cheerfully forego the reward for the finding of a fox if he could -preserve his rabbit-shorn sward--green and as smooth as velvet. And in -his soul is a secret hatred of the traffic of the woodmen's waggons. -Their great wheels crush and destroy the promising young underwood; -woodmen, removing tree-trunks, ruthlessly plough up lawn-like turf; -they have no care and no eye for the young growths of hazel, ash, -maple, thorn or brier, to say nothing of bramble and bracken; and their -waggons, carts and horses' hoofs spread a desolation which brings -curses to the keeper's lips. - - * * * * * - - -A Tragedy of the Woodlands - -We know a wood near the Hampshire Highlands that was once famous -for its ash, and would be as famous now if the wood's owner had his -keeper's fine feeling. The keeper's heart was cut if frost blackened -the leaves; this was a grim tragedy. And there were larches of -gun-barrel straightness. An order was given that the wood should be -laid low. The woodmen came with saw and axe, beetle and wedges, they -cut all the trees, and sent them to the guillotine of the travelling -steam-saw, which spoiled as fair a meadow as any in Hampshire. Next the -woodland was thrown open to cattle, horses, and sheep. Then the keeper -was dismissed: and glad he was to go. - - * * * * * - - -Fox and Partridge - -When shooting parties begin again strange stories are repeated about -pheasants and partridges. We remember hearing a learned disquisition -on the subject of the fox and the hen partridge; the argument was that -the fox is only occasionally successful when he makes a grab at a hen -partridge sitting on her eggs, and that the hen, after fluttering from -the jaws of death, will return unconcernedly to her duties. Further, -even if the fox were so lucky as to capture the hen, the cock partridge -would most obligingly take up the sitting and hatch the eggs. But -no case was cited where a fox had been known to attempt to catch a -sitting cock partridge--from which the inference might be drawn that -the fox has a special aversion to the sitting cock. - -Much nonsense of this sort is swallowed with good faith by those not -closely in touch with foxes and game. We have an old book called "The -Life of a Fox: Written by Himself." In this we read that a sitting -bird acquires a thinness and flavour which are abhorrent to the taste -of a fox; nonsense guised as sense could hardly go further. It would -be grossly disparaging to the fox's skill to say that he fails once in -a hundred times when making a grab at a sitting bird; and we are sure -that a cock partridge does not take up the duties of his wife as often -even as a fox fails to bring off a catch. We have never known a cock -partridge to take the place of his murdered mate on the nest, but every -gamekeeper knows he will rear the brood when the hen is killed after -hatching. - - * * * * * - - -A Study in Perseverance - -We have a pretty story to tell ourselves about the perseverance of -partridges. In a district where few were found, a pair had left the -fields and nested within a stone's-throw of the keeper's cottage. It -stood in a green glade, sheltered on all sides by rambling old woods. -For four successive seasons this partridge pair nested within a few -yards of the same spot: and year after year something upset their -plans, and spoiled all prospects of their hope of a covey--a hedgehog, -rooks, inquisitive children, but, luckily, not a fox. The fifth -season found the persevering birds trying again; their nest contained -seventeen eggs. The site was an obvious one, but now the birds' luck -turned. Just when it seemed that nothing could keep the nest from the -eyes of any curious passers-by, a fine plant of hemlock sprang up to -provide a screen and shelter. Every egg was then hatched, and every -chick was reared to the flying stage. True, by September the young -birds had been reduced until only nine were left. But as the keeper -said, that was better than that a fox should have killed the old hen -on her nest; and a family of nine was very creditable to a pair of -five-year-old birds. - - * * * * * - - -The Hut in the Woods - -Your gamekeeper is a skilled cook, and his open-air kitchen is a -place of curious interest. For the first five or six weeks of their -lives young pheasants are regaled several times daily with meals of -hard-boiled eggs, custard, biscuit-meal, oatmeal, canary-seed, greaves -and rice--seasoned with spices. Look into the keeper's hut in the -woods, and you will see quite a collection of sacks filled with choice -foods--cracked maize, dari-seed, groats, rice, preparations of dried -meat, and finely dressed meals of wheat and barley. When the birds have -learned to go to roost only one meal a day is provided. In his kitchen -the keeper prepares a thin meat soup, sometimes of sheeps' heads; this -is boiled, then cooled, chopped lettuce and onion, and barley and -other meals are added, and then the rations of the pudding-like mass -are rolled into small pellets. Over the keeper's kitchen the keeper's -wife has no jurisdiction. In some sheltered corner from which he can -keep an eye on his birds he builds himself a fireplace of two parallel -rows of bricks open at each end, so that he may burn long sticks and -save himself the labour of chopping wood if pressed for time. Sometimes -he will get the village blacksmith to fashion a sort of iron gallows -from which to hang his great cooking-pots, each containing eight or -nine gallons, and of no small weight. By November many keepers have -cooked the last meal for their pheasants--others may be preparing a -final supper, whistling till their jaws ache to call the birds to -the meal--on the morrow to do their utmost to send the long-tails to -destruction. - - * * * * * - - -Pheasant Chicks - -"Mothering" is the factor which makes all the difference between a -moderately good and a very good season for young pheasants. A hen -pheasant, when her chicks are quite small, can easily give warmth and -shelter to a dozen or more; after the first week or so some have to go -without, and unless the weather is fine and warm, they perish before -they are covered by body feathers. Weather conditions that have had -a bad effect on partridges may have little effect on pheasants. Many -suppose that if partridges have suffered from drought, pheasants, -especially wild ones, must have suffered also. But wild pheasants -have an advantage in several ways. The period during which they lay -and hatch their eggs and rear their young is much longer than with -partridges. If the last ten days of June be days of cold, heavy, -ceaseless rain, they may practically annihilate the partridge chicks. -But at that time a great number of young pheasants are old enough to -withstand a considerable rainfall. Nor are the pheasants of tender -age--only a section of the pheasant crop--so much at the mercy of bad -weather as are tender partridges, for their haunts are chiefly in and -about the woods and hedgerows, which afford shelter from cold and wet. -In times of drought, the pheasants have the best chance of finding, -among the shaded herbage, and beneath the masses of decaying leaves, -enough moist insect food to carry them over to better days. It is on -account of the better insect-supply in moist places that in very thin -partridge seasons, where birds have suffered heavily from drought in -open places, a few fine coveys may often be found on the fringes of -woods. And in very wet seasons, the shelter and warmth of underwood -also explain the survival of strong coveys. The end of September marks -the time of the breaking-up of the pheasant broods. The young birds -no longer remain with their mothers; the young cocks begin to feel -self-conscious and gallant in their fine feathers, growing richer -daily, and duels are fought as by way of practice for the fierce -struggles of their first spring. You may hear at the roosting-time of -the birds the crude efforts of the young cocks to say "cock-up" instead -of "peep-peep." Their utterances are an inharmonious blending of treble -and bass; indeed old pheasant cocks and the birds of the year are as -different in voice as grown men and choir-boys, old rooks and young. - - * * * * * - - -The Roosting Habit - -If one thing annoys a keeper more than another, it is to have foxes -turned down on his beat without warning. It is bad enough that foxes -should be turned down at all--especially before the young pheasants -have learned the trick of going into the trees to roost. Most of the -pheasants living in and about the woods should go to roost by the -middle of August, and only late birds may be excused if they have not -acquired the roosting habit by the First. In the past the keeper was -relieved of a load of anxiety if all his hand-reared birds went to tree -by the First--for with the long days spent in the partridge fields he -was unable to watch over his pheasants at night. But in these days, -when there is so little partridge shooting in early September, the -keeper has more time to give to his pheasants, and his anxieties are -less, though he is always glad when his birds take to roosting out of -the reach of vermin, especially of foxes--tame or wild. - -Given a fair chance young pheasants soon learn to go to a perch to -sleep. Where one sets a good example, others quickly follow. We -remember a partridge that was reared with pheasants, and learned -to go with them regularly to roost. Five-weeks-old pheasants will -flutter up to roost on the first night after removal to covert. It -is less difficult to induce them to seek a perch than to break them -of the habit of sleeping on the ground. Pheasants have an eye rather -for comfortable sleeping quarters than safe ones. Many a keeper has -suffered heavy loss from putting his birds in a covert with a thick -grassy undergrowth, or within reach of a field of rough grass, or a -young plantation with a thick growth of rank herbage and attractive -weeds. There the fox is most likely to come. - -Ideal quarters for the birds, when the time comes to shift them from -the rearing-field to the coverts, is ground bare of brambles, fern, -and grass, where oak saplings throw out horizontal branches--not too -thick--a few feet from the ground. With his young birds in such a -place, the keeper may lie on his bed in peace and thankfulness--to -dream of the harvest of his toil, a harvest which needs but a fine -November day and straight powder to be garnered in abundance. Where -the ground is unfavourable the keeper will try to teach his birds the -roosting habit; one plan is to put the hen and her coop on a raised -platform. This lessens any risk the hen may have to run from vermin, -and encourages her brood to fly to the roost. - - * * * * * - - -The Badger's Stealth - -A badger may come to a neighbourhood and stay for a long while -unnoticed. He prowls at night, unseen and unsuspected, and people may -suppose there is no badger within miles. In the same way otters are -at home in many a stream where nobody dreams there is an otter in the -neighbourhood. But let the badger's presence be discovered, and he will -be persecuted to the end. The wise badger shifts his tent at once if a -human nose is poked into it; all badgers would profit if they went to -the fox for a few wrinkles. The foxes have a maxim: Never be at home to -callers who may come again. A visiting-card, in the shape of a particle -of scent, is more than enough acquaintance for a fox with a human being. - -Even the gamekeeper often harbours a badger unknowingly. What he does -not suspect he does not look for. And if he were to look for a month -for signs of a badger he might never find one. Again and again he might -pass within sight of a badger's holt, and think it to be the retreat of -a fox. But by chance he might come upon a clear imprint of a badger's -tracks, and after that it would not take him long to discover the -badger's lair. While not a friend of the badger, he has no such bitter -resentment against him as he feels for the fox. If it were not that -the badger every now and then commits an outrage that brings disgrace -on himself and all his kith and kin, the record of his life might be -written down as fairly harmless. In these days the badger can make -small claim as a provider of sport, which might mitigate the sentence -most keepers pass upon him. - -We knew of a badger who lived in peace, his presence unsuspected, for -many long months. Then a series of mysterious poultry massacres began -to disturb the district, and sometimes a dozen chickens and ducklings -would be slain in one night. Some said fox, others dog; strange stories -of ghosts spread abroad; it was even hinted that a wolf had been -imported by mistake with foreign foxes. But one day tracks were seen -that were not the tracks of fox, dog, or wolf, and a trail of feathers -led to the discovery of a hidden draw-out. The badger was evicted and -summarily shot. - - * * * * * - - -To Attract Bullfinches - -The bullfinch is not always made welcome when he comes to gardens -at the time of fruit-buds. And there are seasons and places in -which he would be welcomed--but comes not. We know a way to attract -bullfinches, even to gardens in towns. You should take from a -hedge-side a few plants of the wild geranium, and set them in your -town garden--bullfinches are wonderfully fond of their seeds. We have -known the birds to find out the geranium plants in a town garden where -bullfinches had never been seen before. To this garden they would -come regularly, but always in the early morning. They are cheerful -feeders--they live on insects and larvæ, as well as on many kinds of -seeds and berries, in the spring feeding their young on seeds which -have been carefully softened. - - * * * * * - - -Bird Warnings - -Prominent among the birds that mob the barn-owl when he flies forth -by day are jays and blackbirds. They are the noisiest, and to the -gamekeeper the most useful of all the sentinels of the wood. A sudden -hubbub from blackbirds and jays always has a meaning. If the birds are -flying high it is a sign that the barn-owl is on the move--if low, the -gamekeeper's thoughts fly to a poaching cat. A cat can hardly move a -yard in a wood without a blackbird crying the alarm. His excited notes, -suggesting the sound of the words "Flint, flint," are taken up by all -the blackbirds within call, and soon the cat is besieged by a throng, -and so closely that the keeper can follow pussy's direction, though she -remains unseen. And the blackbirds give warning of the movements of -stoats and weasels. The wren, too, is a lively and vigilant sentinel, -and from its movements one may determine within a yard where the stoat -is lurking. Jays, by their screams, give prompt warning that a fox is -on the prowl, and no human trespasser, in pursuit of game or otherwise, -can hope to escape their attentions. A lively reception awaits the fox -moving in a wood by day, and his progress may be marked through the -length of a big covert by the agitated way in which the cock pheasants -mount the trees, with warning "cock-up." In the open the peewits will -gather to swoop and swerve in anger and defiance above the fox's head. - - * * * * * - - -A Rabbit's Fates - -There was a small rabbit in our woods who might have congratulated -himself on two wonderful escapes from death. We first made his -acquaintance in a quiet by-lane, and just in time to drive away a stoat -that was loping swiftly along on his trail. A little rabbit is pathetic -in fear, and instinctively one is angered against the stoat which would -take its life--though the stoat's teeth represent the natural weapon -of rabbit destruction. The rabbit fled on his way--directly towards -a motor-car coming at speed round a corner. He darted to one side, -escaping the wheels by the fur of his tail, then foolishly turned -across the road, and again escaped the wheels by a miracle. We wondered -whether the fate thus avoided would have been easier than the one -delayed--no doubt soon after the stoat's teeth bit home in the tender -neck. - - * * * * * - - -Game-Birds and Motors - -We have seen a motor-car drive right over a covey of young partridges -as they dusted themselves on a road, leaving half a dozen victims -behind it. But motors are not entirely opposed to game interests. The -dust they scatter on roadside hedges greatly helps the hiding nests. -Then the frequent passing of cars along country roads is certainly a -deterrent to the poacher; the shooting man in his car takes note of -doubtful-looking tramps and gipsies, and can spread a swift warning to -keepers or police. Even the smells of the car are a disguised blessing, -overpowering the scent of the sitting bird, and so, no doubt, often -preventing a dog from finding a roadside nest. The motor has sent up -the value of many inaccessible shooting properties by eliminating -distance. It may be useful to a shooting party when cartridges have -come to an end, or at the close of a day for transporting game speedily -to the station, or at any time for bringing a doctor when the bag has -been enriched by the addition of a gamekeeper. - - * * * * * - - -Mysteries of the Nightjar - -On a midsummer night, in an old wood, the crooning of the nightjar, -with its whirring, vibrant, monotonous notes, now rising, now falling -in key, seems the ideal of lullaby. The beautiful night-flying swallow -suffers for an evil reputation. It is a bird of mystery. - -The nightjar is the last of our summer visitors, coming about the -middle of May to stay until September. It is known almost the world -over, but few understand its ways; birds of the night suggest evil -doings and inspire superstition. The plumage has the rich, quiet -beauty of the woodcock and the hen pheasant, and the feathers have the -softness of the owl's. In build the bird comes between a large swift -and a small hawk, and is suggestive of swift or swallow when seen close -at hand, with its miniature, hawk-like bill and a mouth surprisingly -capacious when open. The eggs, like the swift's, are rounded at the -ends. - -It is commonly called night-hawk, or dor-hawk, because it preys on -dor-beetles, and it is fern-owl, because it haunts the bracken fern. -It is night-crow, because when on the wing it cries a crowing note, -"crow-ic," and it is jar-owl, because of its owl-like love of night and -its jarring or churring song. Wheel-bird is a name derived from the -wheeling flight. Other names are churn-owl, eve-churr, and night-churr; -but the oldest and one of the most familiar names is goat-sucker, -derived from the legend that the bird sucks milk from goats, thereby -poisoning them and causing blindness. Probably some one saw the bird -near a goat, did not know what it was, or anything about it, and -invented the goat-sucking myth. - - * * * * * - - -The Razor-grinder - -Another bit of folk-lore about the nightjar is that it gave calves a -disease called puckeridge; and on this account country folk still call -this innocent but unfortunate bird the puckeridge. The disease, in -fact, was caused by an insect which laid eggs on the backs of cattle, -whence emerged grubs to cause the skin to pucker. The nightjar may -often be seen wheeling about cattle, for the reason, no doubt, that -the animals attract insects and disturb moths. Possibly for the same -reason the nightjar, instead of flying away from human beings, will -flit near about, keeping just in front of a walking man. Among other -curious names is "razor-grinder." We met a countryman who only knew -the nightjar by this name, derived from the noise made by itinerant -razor-grinders at work. - - * * * * * - - -A Ventriloquist - -Perched lengthwise on a low branch or rail, the nightjar gives to its -churring a ventriloquial effect by turning its head while it croons. -Though the crooning is monotonous, it varies in key, loudness, and -duration; while the occasional cry, "crow-ic, crow-ic," reminds one of -the cry of moorhens and tawny owls. As the bird flies, the snapping -of the beak may be heard as a sharp click, whether it is snapped -over a moth, or by way of showing resentment at one's presence--young -wood-pigeons and doves snap in the same way if disturbed in the nest. -The bird has marvellous control of its flight, and has a way of poising -itself in the air with the wings meeting above the back, like the wings -of the dove in a Scripture-book picture. The serrated claw on the -middle toe is probably used for catching prey, and for clearing away -fragments that cling round the gaping mouth; while the long bristles -that grow from the jaws entangle moths as in a net, as the bird flies -with mouth wide open. It finds good hunting among oak-trees, and is -especially fond of several of the many insects that chiefly haunt the -oaks. - -The nightjar is among the nestless birds, and is content to lay its two -eggs on the ground. When hatched the young are covered with down like -young peewits, and they grow at an amazing rate. An old nightjar, when -disturbed from its young, will go through a despairing performance, -flitting to a low branch near by, and flapping or wringing its wings -in a disconsolate manner, as though to say, "Please go away--please -_do_ go away!" The old bird seems to know how helpless is the position -of the young ones if once discovered by a foe. But it is never easy to -pick out the young birds from their surroundings, while the mother bird -on her nest is as good as invisible. - - * * * * * - - -The Cock and the Hen - -Not all familiar with partridges know how to distinguish the cocks from -the hens by the few minute differences in plumage. In flight the birds -are so alike in size that it is impossible to tell them apart--unless, -perhaps, they are in pairs, and one goes away ahead of the other on -being put up, when the cock may be the hindmost bird. The usual test -of sex is the chestnut horseshoe of the breast. The cocks display a -fine bright horseshoe badge, while the hens have a few chestnut spots -on a whitish ground. However, some insist that this test is not always -infallible. One to be trusted absolutely, so far as we know, is the -striking difference in the lesser and median wing coverts. In each case -there is a light buff stripe down the shaft; but the cock's feathers -have a chestnut stain which is lacking in the hen's feathers, while -the hen's feathers have zigzag buff cross-bars (of the same hue as the -shaft stripe), which are lacking in the cock's feathers. There are -other differences which the experienced eye sees at once; and there are -differences also in the neck feathers. In the adult cock they are grey, -with no shaft stripe; in the hen they are brown, with a light shaft -stripe. The age of birds is to be determined to a certain extent quite -simply. Those with bright yellow legs are birds of the year. Those with -their first pen-feathers rounded are more than a year old, for in the -young birds these feathers are pointed at the tip. - - * * * * * - - -On Finding Feathers - -To be able to name the different sorts of feathers to be picked up on -any woodland walk is an interest like that of the knowledge of flowers, -which allows one to give each wayside blossom its name. The gamekeeper -may put by the more beautiful feathers he finds for presents to his -friends. The jay is killed for an egg-thief, but his blue and black -wing is borne afterwards to church on the hat of a village maiden. The -keeper has an appreciative eye for the burnished metallic hues of the -feathers of cock pheasants of every kind. What greatly pleases him -is to point out to the ignorant the existence of those two peculiar -feathers in the wings of woodcock--the tiny, stiff, pointed feathers, -growing close against the base of the first flight feather's shaft in -each wing. These he could pick out in the dark by sense of touch. They -are to be found in snipe's wings--in which they are lighter in colour, -and even more minute--and in other birds, but it would be difficult to -say what particular purpose they serve beyond a finish or covering for -the exposed edge of the first flight feather. An unwritten law entitles -the shooter of a woodcock to these particular feathers, and formerly -the etiquette of sport allowed him to wear them in reasonable numbers -in his hat. To-day one may sometimes see them in the hard hat of the -poulterer. Painters in olden times appreciated the stiff points of the -feathers for delicate work. And there was an agent on a Scotch shoot -whereon woodcock are plentiful who maintained the national reputation -for thrift by using the feathers as nibs for writing. But we suspect he -did more woodcock shooting than quill-driving. - - * * * * * - - -When the Dog's Asleep - -Rats are marvellously cunning, they never fail to seize an opportunity -and make the best of it. They are as bold as cunning, and take -desperate risks; but no doubt they know their own powers. The cunning -and the boldness of rats are made evident when one is seen eating -the crumbs of a biscuit beside a sleeping dog. Rats soon find out -that where there is a dog in a kennel there will be food--not crumbs -only, but an assortment of bones, and many a tit-bit, despised by a -fastidious dog, from that comprehensive dish, household scraps. It -is strange to watch a rat stealing a feast within a few inches of a -sleeping terrier--the very rat for whose blood the terrier has wearied -himself by scratching at a hole for the greater part of the day. Should -the dog wake up and dash for his enemy, the rat coolly darts beneath -the kennel. It is a thousand to one against the dog catching the thief. - - * * * * * - - -A Story of Rats - -Keepers as a class have no love for rats; but there is one keeper who -regards all rats with the deadliest loathing, on account of a little -experience. He had taken a new berth, and arrived at the cottage which -was to be his home some days in advance of his wife, taking bread, -a ten-pound cheese, and a cask of beer, on which to subsist until -the more luxurious days of his wife's coming. Having found that the -outgoing keeper had carried off the front-door key, he brought his most -valuable possessions into his bedroom, including the bread, cheese, and -beer. Thoroughly tired with his journey and his unpacking, he slept -so well through the first night that some mysterious sounds, as in -a dream, failed to rouse him. On awakening, he discovered that rats -had paid a call, and had eaten every particle of the bread and of the -ten-pound cheese. They had even assaulted the bung of the beer-barrel, -happily for them and for the keeper without success. During the first -three months of his residence this keeper killed no fewer than 600 rats -in and about his old-fashioned cottage. - -Thinking of the rats who assaulted the beer-barrel reminds us of the -story of a clever rat that drank from a wine-bottle by first inserting, -then licking, his tail. Rats are so cunning that one can believe almost -anything told of them. They suffer, at times, terribly from thirst. -There is no doubt that a dry breeding season means a small crop of -rats, which seems to support the theory that when hard pressed by -thirst larger rats kill the little ones for the sake of their blood. -When feeding on corn, in ricks or barns, a spell of rainless weather -means much suffering, even if dews compensate in some measure for the -absence of water. If you would see rats at their merriest, watch a -corn-stack on a summer evening when a shower has come after scorching -days. In a little while a rustling will be heard, and the rats steal -out to gulp the raindrops on the thatch and the herbage near by. We -have seen a rat so thirsty that in spite of being driven back to his -hole each time he appeared, every half-minute he would again attempt to -reach a farm-yard puddle. A farmer who shot at one rat killed no fewer -than seven, which had crowded to drink from a wayside pool. - - * * * * * - - -Blood and Water - -We have a cat which, when thirsty, sometimes drinks from an open tub, -balancing herself on the edge. When the water is too low for lapping -she will dip a front paw and lick off the water in delicate and dainty -fashion. Bloodthirsty creatures require deep drinks: stoats and weasels -go often to water. But creatures which feed on green-stuffs seldom -drink water directly, but in the shape of dew, or the moisture of their -food. Sheep, when feeding off root-crops in autumn and winter, have -little need of water, and rabbits and hares are not great drinkers. -Partridges are among many birds that may drink only of raindrops or -dew, or quench their thirst with juicy seeds or insects. Dry summers -always mean plenty of partridges--yet one hears, each dry summer, that -partridges are dying in numbers from drought. It is rather the absence -of moisture-supplying insects that is fatal to the birds. - - * * * * * - - -The Untimely Opening - -Midsummer Day might be marked as the partridge's birthday, since the -majority of birds are hatched about that time--a month later than -the majority of pheasants break their shells. People are sometimes -puzzled when they realise that pheasants are preserved for two months -longer than partridges. The reason, of course, is that pheasants -mature slowly, and partridges quickly. But are partridges given fair -grace? We think not--and would advocate a later opening day for -partridge-shooting. Not a partridge of the year is matured on September -1, in size, or strength of flight, or endurance. The young birds are -still in the drab-feather stage; their legs are bright yellow, an -infallible token of youthfulness; and it is rare, before October, to -find one with the horseshoe chestnut feathers on its breast, or with -rufous head--the signs of maturity. The heavy toll taken on small -shoots during the first fortnight of September is not only unfair, -but unwise, and often fatal to the good prospects of future seasons. -Another mistake commonly made is the shooting of too many hares in -September. Many of the does are still suckling leverets; and does, that -breed for the most part in the fields, form a large proportion of the -hares met with in September partridge shooting. - - * * * * * - - -[Illustration: THE LONG DAY CLOSES - -LONDON. EDWARD ARNOLD.] - - -'Ware Wire - -Wire netting is the cause of many a tragedy to young pheasants. One may -see it stretching for miles on the fringe of woods as a fence against -rabbits. Suppose a hen pheasant, with her brood, has been making an -excursion to the fields. She comes to the wire and finds her return -passage barred. Seeing that most of her little ones have wriggled -through the meshes, the mother flies over, and goes on. But as often -as not she leaves behind her one or two chicks, and these the flower -of her flock--for they are the ones so well grown as to be just too -large to pass through the meshes. Sooner or later, after fluttering -to find a loophole, the little necks become caught, and after a few -frantic struggles the chicks hang themselves. Or night comes on, and -some prowling vermin saves them from a slow death by exhaustion through -their vain efforts. - - * * * * * - - -Witless Pheasants - -Pheasants, beside partridges, are stupid mothers: nor have young -pheasants anything like the common sense of young partridges. The -mother partridge is the most careful mother, and by example soon -teaches her young ones to use their wings. One hears the old partridges -calling all through the day to their young; but the little pheasants -must fight their own battles with less encouragement, and look after -themselves. One may see a hen pheasant leading her brood towards a -dike, over which it is obvious they are not strong enough to pass. -But without a look to see if they follow her or not, she flits across; -then, finding that a few are with her, having managed the passage, she -hurries on, as if she had not a thought for those left behind. They -do their best to follow, only to fall into the water, in which they -are drowned, or, if the dike is dry, to become exhausted in their vain -efforts to scale the steep sides. - - * * * * * - - -Nature's Laws - -Yet it is hardly fair to compare pheasants to partridges. The -difference in their habits of life makes it necessary that partridges -should learn to use their wings more quickly than pheasants. They -will fly when no larger than starlings, but pheasants grow as big as -full-grown partridges before making much use of their wings. Partridges -mature the more quickly: hatched in mid-June they are nearly full grown -by September, while pheasants, born in May, are still in their baby -stage in October. Then the habit of the partridges to roost in coveys -on the ground fosters the instinct to spring into the air and fly on -the first sign of danger, all in a covey acting as one bird for mutual -protection. There is some little excuse for the young pheasants that -butt into wire with such foolish persistency--they are so near to the -wire that their legs have no chance to launch them fairly into the -air. While the desire of a pheasant, on meeting wire outside a wood, -is to pass through into the covert, the idea of the partridge is to -turn about, and fly back to the fields whence it came. The effect of a -line of wire-netting on wild creatures seems to be that they imagine -they are enclosed on all sides. A half-grown leveret cantered before us -for quite two miles alongside netting to the left of him; only after -covering this distance did it seem to dawn upon him that by turning to -the right he might go his way to freedom. - - * * * * * - - -The Partridge June - -What are the ideal conditions for partridges? First, an old-fashioned -April--growing weather. Then an old-fashioned May, with blue skies -and genial sunshine, to be followed by a June without a drop of rain -that would hurt a fly by day, with occasional warm sprayings of rain -by night, to help on the insect-supply for the chicks, and to keep the -soil just as partridges like it when scratching for insects, but not -wet enough to clog their feet. The ideal June--the partridge June--has -warm nights and fine sunny days, without too much scorching sunshine. -The fine weather must go on during the first part of July in the -interests of the later-hatched chicks; and if August can behave as it -should, so much the better--but the most important thing is a partridge -June. Nothing can make amends to the partridges for a wet, cold June; -for nothing can bring their dead chicks to life. - - * * * * * - - -Favoured Pheasants - -We need not think of the effect of frost on partridge eggs, for -the birds cover their eggs when they leave them, until they are -well on their way to hatching, with wonderful care, regularity, and -thoroughness; and here they have the advantage of pheasants, which -rarely cover their eggs when off the nest. Another advantage of the -partridge is the hen's faithful mate--to help to shelter the brood from -the weather and keep them warm. One bird might be able to manage this -for fifteen little ones during their first week of life; but afterwards -she could not possibly give the vital warmth to more than half her -offspring. To the chicks of the pheasant hen a risky time is between -the shedding of the soft fluffy down of infancy and the growth of -feathers proof against cold and wet. Where pheasants have the advantage -is that their hatching-time is spread over many weeks; so that whereas -partridges may have their hopes ruined by a week or by a few days, -or even a few hours of bad weather, the pheasants' hopes are never -blighted while summer lasts. - -It may be urged that if there are few young partridges there must -be few young pheasants, and this to some extent is true. Though the -breeding conditions of pheasant and partridge are very different, a -bad season for one can hardly be a good season for the other. With -partridges, the great trouble is that nearly all of them nest about -the same time: where one brood suffers from bad weather, thousands -must suffer. For ten days after hatching, partridges are at the mercy -of the weather. Let one of those marble-sized drops of rain strike a -newly hatched chick, and its day is done. As one sharp frost destroys -all the apple-crop of a countryside, if it comes when the trees are in -full bloom, so a deluge in mid-June is fatal to all young partridges. -Even a day's thunder-rain, between the fifteenth and thirtieth of June, -would almost excuse a partridge keeper if he committed suicide--though -we have never heard of such a thing. - -Heavy warm rain is bad enough--heavy cold rain is simply disastrous -when it falls day after day, for weeks, from the time when most -partridge eggs begin to hatch, until all except the second clutches -are hatched--or flooded out. It is hardly worth considering whether -the wet or the cold claims most victims: enough that if wet fails to -bring about a tragedy, cold finishes the work. The sunless days, the -everlasting rain, the drenching herbage, and the sodden soil wipe out -most broods to a bird. It is not, as many suppose, a question of a -good hatch that controls the supply for September, but it is simply -a question of the weather for the first fortnight after hatching. -Usually, if any eggs in a nest hatch, all the eggs hatch; but we -may say that if only half the eggs in each nest hatched, and a fine -fortnight followed, more birds would be reared than if every egg in -each nest produced two chicks, and a drenching fortnight then set in. - -In a wretched hatching season, the best luck is often with the -intermediate early broods. They fare least badly. As to second -nests, it never makes much difference to September's sport whether -they prosper or not. A covey of a dozen, in a September following -a wet June, is a good covey. The most general coveys are coveys of -old birds--or coveys consisting of one young bird! There is no more -reliable sign of a poor partridge crop than a good year for roots. - - * * * * * - - -A Covey of Ancients - -We remember how an experienced keeper was quite at sea in his judgment -of a particular covey. It had been a bad season, and after the corn had -been cut he knew of only one good covey; it numbered nine birds, and -fine forward birds they were. On this covey he set great store against -the coming of September. It happened that he was bidden to shoot a -couple of brace of young birds for dinner at "the house" on the First. -With his first shot at the covey he bagged the old cock. He pursued the -rest of the covey, bagged another bird, also an old cock. Disappointed -but still hopeful, again he pursued the covey, again he bagged another -bird, and again it was an old cock that fell to his gun. He went on -until he bagged the ninth and last bird, and the ninth was no better -than all the others. It was a sad keeper who went home that day with -his nine old birds. Ever since he has been sceptical about coveys -of forward birds. But he always says now that foxes at least show -gallantry in the matter of "ladies first." - - * * * * * - - -Keepers' Woe - -If June proves wet, despair reigns in the partridge keeper's breast. -With hopeless eyes he looks forward to the coming season. One keeper -of our acquaintance, one wet midsummer, a time when, in a promising -season, he would have had no moment to spare from the care of his young -birds, married, and went for a honeymoon. "Lor' love ye," said another, -weary of June rain, "I might just as well 've bin in bed for a month -past." A common remark made by keepers in a rainy June is the mournful -plaint, "Ye don't see no feetmarks on the roads, but old un's." - - * * * * * - - -Red-Legs - -The more we see of red-legged partridges the more we appreciate their -powers of running. They are wonderful birds for eluding the tactics -of walking-up parties; even where the birds are plentiful it is rare -to walk-up one within gunshot. The red-leg also suffers by comparison -with the English birds on the table. But he is a grand bird for driving -(when he is headed and forced to fly), seldom coming in coveys--so that -a dozen red-legs may afford as many shots as a dozen unbroken English -coveys. And they come straight, more in the style of grouse than of the -brown partridges. The two types seldom intermingle, being of different -species and different genera. In some places an ill-feeling is still -harboured against the bigger and handsomer red-legs, and it is thought -that they drive away the English birds. - - * * * * * - - -Water for Game-Birds - -It is a lucky keeper whose shoot is watered by springs and brooks which -never fail in time of drought, for a continuous supply of water means -much to the success of game-breeding. But streams have their dangers: -birds will be attracted to the banks at nesting-time, and if heavy -rains follow, their nests may be destroyed by the floods. A greater -danger lies in the streams which are winter water-courses only and dry -up in the spring. Herbage will grow luxuriantly at the stream-side, and -birds will be enticed to nest in places where, after a heavy rainfall, -there will rush a raging torrent, to carry away birds, nests, eggs -and all. Some say that nesting birds can foretell the weather, and -choose their nesting-places accordingly--building on the banks and -higher ground if the season will be wet, but in the hollows if dry. No -doubt their choice is influenced only by prevailing weather, and the -position of suitable cover. In a cold, late spring, grass-fields offer -poor shelter, and so the birds choose the hedges and dikes, where the -wild, weedy growth finds moisture for its roots and protection for its -top-growth. When birds are sitting, the less they have to do with water -the better for their hopes. - -Perhaps it is better for birds to be drowned than to suffer from -drought. A long spell of hot weather is not in itself harmful to the -broods, for sunshine is the essence of life in their early days; but -while drought does not cause suffering through lack of water, it means -lack of juicy food, and that is fatal. Succulent weed-seeds and grubs -and insects are not to be found; the milkiness is dried out of the -seeds, and grubs and worms go deeply into the soil, beyond scratching -distance. But food enough of sorts could be found during the severest -drought if a little water were also available. Ponds are useful only to -a small proportion of the broods, and become waterless when drought is -long enough to threaten serious loss. Heavy thunder-rain after drought -completes the work of destruction. If it comes within a fortnight of -Midsummer Day, it means calamity to hosts of young partridges, who may -be overwhelmed before they can reach their parents, or, gaining that -shelter, are drowned when the ground is swamped. - -Many keepers never give their young pheasants water until they have -been removed from the rearing-field to covert--but their food is made -dry or moist according to the weather. This plan answers well enough -until there comes a hot, dry spell which ends suddenly in rain, and -then the chicks drink immoderately, and suffer the penalty. That chicks -take the first chance to drink the raindrops from the herbage shows -that water is good for them; and the best plan is to provide them with -a continuous supply of clean water from the beginning, so that they -never become thirsty and drink themselves to death. - - * * * * * - - -Ideal Coverts - -A continuous supply prevents the straying of pheasants as they grow -up, and feel inclined to see the world, especially when they have been -weaned from food more or less pappy to a diet of hard corn. Another -benefit is felt by the gamekeeper: where there is no constant supply, -he must trudge many weary miles carrying heavy buckets of water, and -he knows all the time that his labour is almost in vain--so much of -the precious water is wasted by evaporation, and fouled by the birds -washing themselves, and by the drifting of leaves. If artificial -supplies are relied upon, it is always difficult to supply enough; if -rain is relied upon, there is usually far too much. For game-birds, the -ideal covert is one with never-failing brooks, and the ideal weather -is the ideal weather of April--days of warm sunshine with occasional -light, warm showers by day to supplement the dews of night. - - * * * * * - - -The Thirst of Rabbits - -Nothing keeps down rabbits more thoroughly than a soaking wet summer; -while heavy rains drown the partridge and pheasant broods above ground, -they also drown the little rabbits in their furry nests below. Yet in -times of drought, when herbage is parched and sapless, the keeper who -supplies water for the rabbits to drink in arid, sandy warrens does -much for the prosperity of the does and their young. Rabbits eat their -young when in want of water, and a dry summer puts a check on the -increase of rats, since the old ones kill the young for their blood. -With rabbits, a favourite place is always a dry spot by the side of -water, although the ground is likely to be favoured by stoats. Rabbits -found in such places are always extra fine and fat. - - * * * * * - - -Puppies at Walk - -"Please drive cautiously. Hound puppies are at walk in the village." -We came upon this notice nailed to the trunk of an ash on the road -outside a village in Hampshire. The inference suggested itself that so -long as those who might drive furiously through the village touched -no hair of a hound puppy's head nothing else mattered. Usually, it -is the old-fashioned notices that bring a smile to the passer-by's -face: "Beware of Man-traps," "Spring Guns," "Dog-spears set here." -Walking along the River Stort we have been startled by a notice beside -some of the locks, "The Punishment for Tampering with these Works -is Transportation." "Trespassers will be Punished by Transportation" -would be a suitable legend for a board in a strictly preserved wood, -hinting that if you do not go quietly on request the keeper will carry -you. Reading the new caution to drivers outside the Hampshire village, -we were tempted to simplify it thus: "Beware of hound puppies." It is -pleasant to see young hounds basking in the sun in the farm-yard; but -when they are at walk in the charge of the village butcher they may be -more than a general nuisance; they may terrorise the place. People who -walk hounds do not always undertake the honour because they like it, -but because they cannot well refuse. The hounds are turned out into -the streets to prowl at large--they slaughter poultry, spread havoc -in many a garden plot, knock down children, and roam in through open -cottage doors, to steal the labourer's dinner from off his very table. -A pack of hounds under the control of a firm huntsman and his whips is -one thing--but hounds at walk, allowed to wander at their will, are a -peril to the community. "Beware of hound puppies"--when they come up -treacherously behind you. - - * * * * * - - -Schooling the Puppies - -Retriever pups born about the end of January are old enough, by August -or September, to begin their careers of usefulness. If given light -work, during the second half of their first year they may be ready -to take an important part in the next shooting season, when eighteen -months old. Spring puppies are certainly easier to rear than autumn -puppies--they grow faster, and are likely to become finer specimens -than the others, which must endure long months of trying weather during -puppyhood. But there is this in favour of autumn puppies--they come to -their first shooting season at a more mature age, and intellectually -are readier to learn than the six months old puppies of spring. At the -age of twelve months a puppy begins to put away puppyish things. - -It is only possible to gain perfection in the education of a puppy by -beginning so soon as it is weaned. From that time the puppy should -be taken in hand by its future master, whom alone it should know and -understand. One can hardly begin too early to teach the meaning of the -word "No," which, to the puppy, is that it must not do something that -it had thought desirable to do--whether to chase a cat or rabbit, to be -excited at the rising of a lark, or to hunt a roadside hedge. Another -important early lesson is teaching the puppy its name. For stud-book -and show purposes the name may be, if you please, "Beelzebub of -Babylon," or any other high-flown title, but for common use it should -be distinct in sound, and preferably of not more than one syllable. -Puppies may be taught their names and obedience at the same time; in -classes perhaps more quickly and more thoroughly than individually. It -is a good plan at feeding-time to have the puppies together, and put -food outside an opening in their kennel; then to call out each puppy by -name, and on no account allow any other to come than the one called. -In a surprisingly short time it will be possible to set open the door -and call out each puppy by name, without forcibly keeping back the -uninvited. In this way a good grounding might be given to the favourite -fox-terriers in obedience, of which so many have not the slightest -notion. - - * * * * * - - -Dogs' Noses - -The power of scent varies much with different dogs: usually a slow dog -makes better use of its scenting nerves than the fast galloper. It is -pretty to watch a good retriever following a wounded bird over ground -alive with unwounded game, yet never turning aside from the one trail. -A dog could hardly distinguish one partridge from another--probably -it is by the scent of blood that the one line can be followed so -accurately. Sportsmen do not always give the dogs fair chances; they -throw them cheese at lunch-time, or perhaps allow bagged game or -themselves to taint the wind, so foiling other trails. In one case -a sportsman blamed a new retriever for not finding a bird which was -actually lying beneath his own boots. And even a first-rate retriever -will sometimes tread on the very bird he is seeking, without finding it. - - * * * * * - - -The Thief of the World - -Gamekeepers, we know, have little love for foxes--for the sufficient -reason that they are at one with foxes in their love of pheasants. -Keepers have also some of that craftiness and worldly wisdom so -developed in foxes; they know it is not always policy to say with -their lips what they believe in their hearts. There are good people -who tell keepers every now and again that foxes do no harm to game. -Keepers have heard stories in favour of foxes; they know the rights of -them. Dark and mysterious are the ways of the fox; but darker still -and more mysterious are the ways of the keeper with "the thief of the -world." This alone he will admit in favour of the fox: he adds to the -keeper's work an uncertainty which makes success the sweeter. The -fox is a favourite of Fortune, his needs are fulfilled exactly; all -things seem arranged in his favour to a nicety. Other creatures may -die of starvation in time of snow; but the fox then finds his prey -with greatest ease. Cubs are weaned about the middle of May, and must -be fed on flesh, when a majority of pheasants are sitting. And when a -sitting pheasant is scented or seen by a vixen in search of food for -her cubs, that pheasant, you may say, is dead. The keeper, though his -blood boils afresh at each nesting tragedy--at the sight of the strewn -feathers of the hen pheasant and at the cold touch of the lifeless -eggs--appreciates the deftness of the marauder's work. He reconstructs -each scene of the plundering--the silent passage of the prowling fox, -the pause of a moment to sniff and sniff again the scent that taints -the air, the swift thrust of long jaws between bramble, brier, and -bracken, the grab of gleaming teeth, the stifled cry of the dying bird, -the floating of brown feathers on the wind of night, and the joy of the -cubs at the sight of the dead bird and the scent of her welling blood. -And then the carnival of feasting at the mouth of the earth, by the old -tree of the cubs' playground, while the white owl screeches his protest -as he passes overhead, and the mother fox, sitting on her haunches, -licks her chops and watches. The work of a vixen among sitting birds -differs from that of the dog fox. While she always carries her booty to -her cubs, he kills in wanton waste, leaving the birds' bodies, often -headless, near their nests. Some or all of the eggs may be eaten, -or they may be left untouched, still as neatly arranged in the nest -as the mother bird left them when she stole off to feed and take a -bath in dust. The keeper may recognise the excuse of the mother fox's -necessity, but for the wanton slaughter by her idle mate he sees no -reason, and finds no forgiveness. - -Only those who have seen the remains of game scattered round the earth -of a litter of cubs--the cubs of an experienced mother--can realise -what it costs in game to entertain foxes. Where rabbits are plentiful, -pheasants and partridges suffer less from foxes than where rabbits -are scarce, and the keeper may help a vixen to cater for her cubs by -shooting and snaring rabbits in her favour. He leaves their bodies, -but scattered at a fair distance from the earth, so that the vixen must -spend some time in fetching and carrying, and has the less time for -making a mixed bag of her own selection. - - * * * * * - - -The Cubs' Playground - -Unseeing eyes pass blindly over the home of a litter of cubs; but -the keeper's never overpass the place. Long furrows through the -dog's-mercury and grasses tell their tale. Primroses are torn and -crushed, the great leaves of the burdock are bruised and broken, -the moss is rubbed from the underwood stumps and from the boles of -trees where the cubs have been gambolling and rubbing their coats, -the excavated soil near the earth is smooth from the pattering of -their feet, beaten hard and polished--and in all directions there are -scattered wings, feathers and bones. If the keeper calls, and sees -signs of recent rollicking play and fresh-killed food, and fresh-drawn -soil where the cubs amuse themselves at earth-making and enlarging the -burrows of rabbits, he knows the family to be in residence. Should the -soil near the entrance to the earth have a green look, he knows the -family has gone away. - - * * * * * - - -A Fox's Feat - -Who would believe that a full-grown fox could pass through the mesh of -ordinary sheep-netting?--four-inch mesh, if memory serves. We know of -one case where a vixen was actually seen to accomplish this wonderful -feat. With her cubs, she had been dug out from her earth, carried to a -distant part of the country, and imprisoned. The four-inch mesh must -have been a tight fit for her body; but perhaps she had worried and -fretted at her imprisonment, until she had worn herself to a shadow. -Her cubs, which were unweaned, may have helped to weaken her strength, -and reduce her waist until it could squeeze through the netting. - -The story has a sequel. A town doctor saw the vixen a few moments after -her escape; and happened to find himself sitting next to a M.F.H. at -dinner. The doctor remarked, with a well-meant attempt at affability, -"Foxes seem to be plentiful in your neighbourhood this year." "What -makes you think so?" asked the M.F.H., with encouraging eagerness. -"Why, only the other day, passing your place about noon, I saw a vixen -with cubs trotting across your lawn." The doctor swiftly perceived that -he had let the fox out of the bag, so black was the look that came over -the Master's face. But it was months before he solved the full riddle -of the black look, when he learned that the fox he had seen on the lawn -in broad daylight had only just escaped from her wire-net prison, so -saving herself from the ignominy of being turned down with her cubs. - -The keeper finds his game-nests with his eyes, the fox with his nose. -The keeper who must preserve game and preserves foxes takes steps to -overcome the scent of his birds. He sprinkles the neighbourhood of all -the nests he can find with some strong-smelling fluid. But the foulest -or strongest scent will not save a bird when a fox has once seen her. -Fortunately he is not clever enough to know a new trap from an old one, -nor a sound from a broken one, and the keeper finds at nesting-time a -good use for his disused traps, placing them about birds sitting in -dangerous spots. Anything in the shape of scrap-iron the fox suspects; -anything unusual about a nest, such as a piece of newspaper on a bush -near by, will arouse his fears, and possibly save a bird's life. But as -rooks learn to treat scarecrows with contempt, so foxes learn to have -no fear for harmless terrors, and the keeper rings the changes on all -the fox-alarming devices which experience and ingenuity can suggest. - - * * * * * - - -Dog-Washing Days - -Two or tree times a year, the gamekeeper gives all his dogs a grand -washing; and his methods should be marked by other dog-owners, for -there are few who understand dogs better. He knows that a dog's coat, -like a woman's hair, is spoiled by too much washing, which destroys -the satiny gloss imparted by the natural oils. He knows, too, that a -dip in a pond or a splash in a stream only wets the surface of a coat, -and does not cleanse the skin. His method is thorough, and designed -not only to cleanse the hair and skin, but to rid the dogs of all the -unwelcome guests they may harbour. Choosing a warm, sunny day, the -keeper gets to work betimes, so that he may have his dogs washed and -out to dry by midday; they must be perfectly dry before nightfall. He -sets up a wooden tub on an old box, for his own convenience, and brings -forth his pails and cans of water--water of just that tepid temperature -which a dog likes. He wants his dogs to enjoy their bath, and knows -that if he scalds or otherwise frightens them they will be shy of the -wash-tub for ever afterwards. To pitch a dog unawares into a tub of -water is as foolish as to throw him into a pond. He must be coaxed to -his bath with words of encouragement, so that he will see there is -nothing to be frightened about. Properly treated, dogs soon learn to -appreciate the wash-tub, and there may be trouble in making them come -out. - -Having brought the dog to the tub, the next work is to put him in and -thoroughly wet his skin--not an easy matter with a retriever, who may -lie in water for ten minutes and yet keep his skin dry. So the keeper -works in the water by hand, rubbing the hair the wrong way, and gently -persuading the dog to lie down. Once comfortably settled in the tub, a -happy look comes over the dog's face. This, by the way, may not be true -of the face of the keeper's wife, should she come to her door to watch -proceedings, and find that her good man has borrowed her new wash-tub. -To make the best of a bad business, she may decide to give her pet -goose a good tubbing; and this will be one of the grandest treats in -the goose's life. - -One old keeper of our acquaintance has a curious recipe for a dog-wash, -and swears that in more than fifty years he has not found its equal. -You must uproot, he will tell you, an armful of foxglove plants, and -boil them in a copper of water. When the infusion is cool enough, rub -it well into your dog's coat, and lather him with a little soft soap. -"And I'll lay," says the old chap, "that you don't see nothing about -a dog after that, and his coat will look fit to go to a wedd'n." The -keeper's plan is to leave the lather in his dogs' coats for some little -time after they have left the tub. Every lathery dog is tied up in -turn in a sunny spot, free from draughts; then all are rinsed in the -order of washing, and are taken for a long gambol in a field of grass, -the keeper taking care not to let a dog free in a dusty place, for his -first act is to have a good roll, regardless of a clean coat. - - * * * * * - - -Shame-faced Cocks - -At harvest-time the old cock pheasants begin to show themselves in the -woods again. In April one grew almost weary of the insistent, boasting -crows of the vainglorious dandies. Then for months they seemed quite -to drop out of woodland society. They like to take things easily -through the summer, leaving all family cares to the members of their -harems. And no doubt they feel out of sorts, and have no desire to be -seen--for they have to pass through the strain of the moulting season. - -As the last acre of the cornfield is cut, a hundred young pheasants -rise, with self-important splutterings, before the binders, each bird -clearly betraying its sex by the growing feathers of maturity. But -the cunning old cocks seldom advertise their presence. They slink -stealthily out of the field while the machines are making their first -rounds, and in a couple of yards from the corn reach the shelter of -the hedge. They steal away with lowered heads, as though to hide their -faces behind each blade of stubble. A dissipated, dishevelled old -ruffian the cock pheasant appears while moulting--with half a tail, -many flight feathers missing from the wings (corresponding feathers -drop out together from each wing, so that he is not deprived of power -of flight), and lacking all the metallic gloss of plumage, burnished -gold and bronze. To come suddenly on a moulting cock pheasant--as -when he is enjoying a quiet dust-bath--is to pity him. And the way he -blunders off suggests that he is heartily ashamed of himself. - - * * * * * - - -The Turtle-Dove's Summer - -In May the turtle-doves were skimming low across the fields, after -their arrival in this country. During the last week of August we saw -them gathering into little parties of dozens or scores against the hour -of their departure. The doves leave before the end of harvest--the -first chillness of autumn bids them go. The pigeons remain to continue -their feasts of corn. Their cooing from the recesses of the beeches -suggests a well-fed laziness. Great feeders as they are, they stuff -their crops to bursting-point, and nothing vegetarian or fruitarian -seems to come amiss to them--whether the greens of root-crops, acorns, -beech-mast, clover, the sown peas, dandelion leaves, sainfoin, anemone -roots, charlock, beech buds, the seeds of bluebells, wild strawberries, -oak-galls, or corn in all its stages. Turtle-doves pay little attention -to corn till harvest-time; the seeds of charlock and of other noxious -plants are a greater attraction. Though they fly with wood-pigeons a -great deal, their diet is different, and they seem to come to ponds -to drink more often than the pigeons, perhaps because some of their -favourite foods, such as charlock seeds, are hot and thirst-producing. -They are among the farmer's best friends. - - * * * * * - - -The Lagging Landrail - -Whenever we flush a landrail we wonder that so slovenly a bird should -be able to cross seas in migration. One doubts its ability to cross -a wide river. Those who for the first time see a landrail rise might -be excused for supposing it to be wounded--the long legs trail at -full length, hardly clearing the heads of the clover which forms its -favourite cover. Few birds are so slow in flight, certainly no other -game-birds--if it is entitled to be classed with them, because, as for -woodcock and snipe, a game licence is required before it may be taken. -Beaters have surprised themselves by bagging landrails with sticks and -partridge carriers, and we have known a clever retriever to catch a -landrail in the air. In spite of her wide experience, the dog mistook -the landrail for a wounded bird when it rose, in its heavy way, some -twenty yards before her, while she quested for a partridge. As if in -revenge for having been fooled, she gave furious chase, and retrieved -it. Flushed in a gale of wind, a landrail will make some progress, -though its flight at first is rather suggestive of a wind-driven leaf. -But after a time the flight grows stronger, as though the wings had -worked off some stiffness. No bird seems less willing to be seen than -the landrail. Yet it will make itself heard almost continuously from -the first streak of dawn until darkness. Its harsh-toned "Crake, crake, -crake," seems close at hand at one moment, then far away, suggesting -that the bird is swift enough on its legs, if slow in flight. It does -not travel far, having arrived from its over-sea journey, haunting, as -a rule, one chosen field, where it is seen only by the mower, who may -accidentally wound the close-crouching bird with his scythe. Landrails -seem to become more scarce every year, and this is often put down to -the mowing machine, which it is claimed is more fatal to sitting birds -than the scythe. But birds usually run from their nests before the -approach of the noisy, whirring machines, and, if they are caught, -seldom suffer more than a cut leg; whereas the scythe comes upon them -almost unawares, and strikes fatally. Probably some influences bearing -upon the migration of landrails have more to do with their scarcity -than unnatural destruction. Hiding so closely in the grass or the corn, -landrails seem to have every chance of long life in this country. - - * * * * * - - -The Truce Ends - -The first day of August is the most important of the gamekeeper's minor -festivals, for the close time under the Wild Birds Protection Act has -come to an end; duck-shooting begins to be a legal if not a difficult -pastime, and hares, which, unfortunately, may be harassed all the year -round, can now be sold openly. The time has come for the cutting of the -first cornfields; and this is ever an important event to the keeper, -for it allows him to make a shrewd estimate of the quantity of game. - -The opening of the duck-shooting season finds the early broods of wild -duck strong on the wing; happily, the old practice of shooting the -immature birds is dying out. In the barley-fields where the wild duck -resort at dusk, the cool passing of an August day makes requital for -the heat of noon. Sport, if an object, will at least be unsullied by -the modern taint of wholesale slaughtering; apart from shooting, there -is the quiet of the fields to be enjoyed, the cool breeze that sets the -barley rippling, the perfumes of corn crops, charlock, clover, turnips, -and swedes. In a duck country, barley-fields, left standing as they -are until dead ripe and after wheat and oats have been harvested, may -suffer severely from their nocturnal visitors. - - * * * * * - - -The Thieving Jay - -At this time of year jays will make long excursions from their thickets -in the heart of the woods to sample the wheat crops. They go stealthily -to their stolen feasts in the early morning, so soon as the ears show -signs of turning, nipping off whole ears, and carrying them to some -thick hedge for leisurely consumption. If there is a case against jays, -there is much in favour of these handsome birds. They do far less harm -to game than rooks and other egg-stealers; they may be almost blameless -in the matter of game eggs, although when a pair of jays acquire the -egg-stealing habit they may clear off three or four hundred eggs in -a few days. Their most useful work is the destruction of pigeons' -eggs. Of course pigeons do no harm to game, except by clearing off -beech-masts and acorns, and the corn sprinkled in the wood; but the -damage they sometimes do in the cornfields is enormous, going far -to destroy perhaps two out of ten acres of wheat. Still, one must -remember that charlock buds, served up with pigeon's milk, form the -pigeons' favourite food for their nestlings. - - * * * * * - - -The Oldest Writing - -Day after day the keeper, going his rounds, reads stories of life -and death. Here a bent leaf gives the clue: there a stray feather: -the snout of a rat tells of a poaching cat that killed the rat, but -left the head with its sharp front teeth and strong and long jaw-bone -untouched. A shrew's body is seen, snapped up by a cat, but left -uneaten on account of the bad taste. The remains of a feast are found, -carelessly covered by only a few leaves; another sign of cats' work. -A determined cat will kill almost anything that a fox might take; but -whereas a cat leaves all the feathers of an old bird, and the skin and -fur of old furred creatures, the fox swallows feathers, fur, skin, -bones, and all but the wings of birds, and the stomach and clawed feet -of ground game. Feathers in a circle by a field hedge tell of a hawk's -killing. Feet of little pheasants, and bits of downy skin by the coops -in the ride, speak of murdering rooks. A dead rabbit is seen, and four -tiny holes are discovered beneath the damp, mouthed fur of the pole--a -weasel has sucked the life-blood. - - * * * * * - - -Prospects - -All through the long, anxious months of spring and early summer the -keeper has been sifting and weighing the points of evidence upon which -he will be able to base a final judgment of the season's prospects. In -June there are many signs which go to make up a long story; thus, nest -after nest may be found to contain egg-shells, all broken in the same -way--nearer the round than the pointed end--telling of the successful -hatching of partridges. Then the keeper becomes so accustomed to -encountering parent partridges who threaten to bar his way, while their -downy chicks magically vanish, that he grows almost indifferent to -their agitation. But in July, to judge the welfare of game is extremely -difficult. Hedges and woodlands are in the prime of their growth; and -in midsummer days luxuriant vegetation hides nearly all birds on the -ground. By chance a keeper may happen on a brood; he notes that sixteen -have dwindled to ten, and wonders whether the heavy shower three weeks -ago come Sunday, or the old vixen he knows too well, or the widow's -tortoiseshell cat, must bear the responsibility. But most game-birds -seen are old ones--birds perhaps whose nests have been destroyed too -late for a second nesting, or birds whose young ones have met with an -untimely fate. Wary old birds with families are specially cautious to -keep well out of sight. Distressing, then, as it is continually to see -barren birds, there is consolation in the knowledge that naturally they -are more in evidence than parents with thriving young ones. With July -the days pass that are most risky to young game--safe days lie ahead; -and with the cutting of the first harvest fields the most valuable of -all evidence is gained as to the numbers of birds. Later on, as fields -of standing corn become fewer, birds of all sorts flock to them, and -estimates of quantity are likely to be misleading. But if it can be -proved that three different coveys have been seen during the cutting of -a piece of forward corn, it is to err on the moderate side to reckon -that there are three others, though unseen. To all interested in the -numbers of game-birds these are fateful days. - - * * * * * - - -Useful Work by Game-Birds - -A dry summer is bad for swedes--among other things. Many grow -disfigured by wart-like excrescences about the size of a pea. Therein -lurk grubs, as partridges and pheasants know. They chip off the warts, -and one may see the rusty-looking hole in the centre of each one -whence the grub has been taken. All round the swedes these detached -warts may be seen, lying face uppermost, and proving the usefulness of -game-birds, particularly partridges. - - * * * * * - - -Life of the Cornfield - -All through the year the cornfield gives food and shelter to a host -unnumbered--from seed-time to harvest, in the days of stubble and of -fallow. To all manner of creatures in fur and feather, insects as the -grain in number, grubs below ground, butterflies above, to rank weeds -and flowers, the cornfield gives more freely than it yields bread to -man. Seagulls come from the coast. Peewits make the field their home -in the spring. There are congregations of sparrows and finches. Hosts -of starlings that go to roost in the reeds. Wood-pigeons stuff their -crops to bursting; turtle-doves come and go. Yellow-hammers sing in -the hedges through the midsummer days. The corn-crake runs swiftly -through the stems where the partridge has her young brood. Rooks follow -the plough, with wagtails that run and dart over the furrows as if -gliding on ice. Overhead are larks; and the corn-bunting flies heavily -from field to field, his legs trailing as if broken. And birds of prey -take their toll of the feeding multitudes. All through the year animal -life finds sanctuary in the cornfield. Underground are the moles; the -harvest mouse weaves its nest in the corn-stems; the rabbit makes a -stop in the field near the hedge, and eats the green blades. To the -ripening corn the fox brings her cubs to play. In the ditches are -hedgehogs; everywhere are rats, mice, and shrew-mice. The hare follows -secret paths, and there are stoats and weasels seeking prey, and -finding it on every side. But nowadays there is little or no work for -our mills, as wheat-field after wheat-field is turned into grass. The -miller is only one among ten thousand sufferers. - -The days spent in the cornfield must pass pleasantly for the little -foxes in a fine summer. In cornfields, unlike hayfields, there is room -between the stems for free movement, there is some chance to look -about, there is air and light, cover and shade. Corn-stems are firm -and dry, but grass-stems hold the soaking moisture of rain and dew, -which saturates the skin even through fur and feather, and quite beyond -the remedy of dog-like shakings. Wheat, as we have said, is the corn -most favoured of all creatures--where not planted too thickly, and -growing on ground not over clean, but dotted plentifully with bunches -of knapweed, thistles, and bindweed, and intersected by furrows where -the corn has grown poorly, and with open spaces bare to the wind and -sun. Winged game, in case prompt flight is necessary, find it easier to -start up into the air through the straight, stiff ears of wheat than -through the ears of oats and barley. Barley that shares the ground -with a rank plant of grass-seeds finds small favour among those many -creatures that forsake the airless woods in summer. - - * * * * * - - -The Keeper's Hopes - -Numbers of hares live all the summer in the cornfields. But while many -rabbits are born in the corn, when there is a wood at hand most of them -retire by day, returning to the corn to feed at night. No rabbit, in -sleekness of fur, is comparable to the rabbit that has lived for a few -fine weeks among the corn-stems, for the constant brushing of the stems -grooms his coat to a state of wonderful fineness. At any moment rabbits -in the corn may meet death from the teeth of stoats or weasels; which -in turn run a risk, if a slight one, from the fox's teeth; there are -plenty of mole-runs into which they may dive in times of danger. In -dry weather, the hedgehogs leave the ditches for the corn; and the -cornfield, in real summer weather, when there are no foxes about, is -a paradise for pheasants and partridges. The gamekeeper, whatever the -weather, clings to the faith that the corn hides most of his birds from -his sight. There is comfort in the thought that if the birds live he -will see them, but if they are killed, nothing will ever tell him the -story of his losses. - -Man ploughs and sows, but for every man who eats the bread of the -fields a million other mouths have been fed. There is no such perfect -sanctuary to wild life as a field of corn. What the corn hides nobody -knows; though many would gladly know, and seek eagerly to find. The -gamekeeper guesses shrewdly what the corn may hide; later he will find -what has been hidden, and it is as well for his peace of mind that he -can only speculate, at this season, on the game in the field, for he is -powerless to interfere. The community of the cornfield is almost safe -from man, while the corn stands. If any creature moves in the corn, the -stems, bowing to the breeze, cover its progress. - - * * * * * - - -Finding the Fox - -Many a fox family spends the entire summer in the cornfield, and no man -is the wiser; but if any should discover the secret, it will be the -gamekeeper. Only a giant could see, from the ground, the spot where, -in a level cornfield, a family of cubs is taking shelter; the keeper's -plan is to climb into a tree, so that his eyes may sweep over acre upon -acre at a glance, and spy out the foxes. Even if the nearest tree be -a mile or more distant from the playground and refectory of the cubs, -his trusty "spy-glass" will reveal the secret--and while he keeps his -place in the look-out tree he may signal to a companion, and point the -way to the family's eviction. From the top of a tree on the edge of a -wood we have found the secret place of a vixen in a field of rank rye; -and when we came to the spot, where a large patch of the rye had been -rolled flat, we could have filled a wheelbarrow with the remains of -partridges, pheasants, rabbits, and hares. - - * * * * * - - -Harvest Sport - -With the harvest comes the great sporting festival of the countryman, -in whom alone survives the instinct to hunt for food--though the -days have gone when every man killed his own game. This sport of the -harvest-field is the countryman's by custom, courtesy, tolerance, -favour, and not by law. It is sport for the sake of food, and not for -the sake of sport. The quarry is rabbit. Only two people have a real -right to rabbits, and that a concurrent right--the farmer in occupation -of the land, and the holder for the time being of the sporting rights. -But during the cutting of the corn few farmers or sportsmen deny their -local workers the privilege and pleasure of catching rabbits. Where -permission is withheld it is usually by a small farmer, who looks to -the rabbits to help with the rent. The keeper is the last to make -objection to the catching of the rabbits, provided that the hares and -the winged game are not only spared, but given a chance to escape. He -even finds it a profitable policy to help catch the rabbits, and hand -over what he catches to be shared out to those who have failed in the -scurry and scramble of the sport. If there is any rule or custom about -possession of the spoil it is that he who kills a rabbit keeps it. This -may be a good rule for those who are lucky--those whose work brings -them into each field as it is cut, who excel with stick and stone, or -are better runners than their fellows. But it is a bad rule for those -who are unlucky; while a carter who sits on a binder from daylight to -dark for a month has perhaps the best chance, another who must spend -his time drilling turnips, or ploughing a distant field, will never so -much as see a rabbit. - - * * * * * - - -The Luck of the Game - -The self-binder has favoured the chance of escape for those rabbits -that camp out in the corn. In these days of neatly tied sheaves the -rabbit that makes a dash, with a little dodging and jumping, may find -a fair course, and can see ahead; and it is almost impossible to run -down a rabbit that sets its face from the corn to some other known -shelter, unless the distance is very great. In olden days, when the -corn was not tied as it was cut, but was thrown out loosely by the -rakes of the reaper, then the chances of escape were all against the -rabbit. He could not run through the corn, or jump over it, nor could -he even see where he was going. All that the harvester had to do was to -hurl himself on the corn where he suspected the rabbit to lurk, and pin -it down. Sometimes, while he was feeling for the rabbit, it would bolt -unseen through his legs, to fall an easy prey to another harvester, -perhaps some fat old dame who had never been known to run. The sport is -full of luck. A man may run until he and the rabbit are at the point -of exhaustion; the man falls, but the rabbit struggles on for a yard -or two farther, and another catches the prize. We have known a man, -in falling exhausted, to actually fall on the rabbit he was chasing. -Once let a rabbit get clear away from the standing corn, the speediest -runner can do no more than keep an eye on its bobbing tail during -the first hundred yards of its dash for freedom. But by ruthlessly -following the tail, in a large field a man may walk it down; for a -rabbit will soon run itself to a standstill, or in despair will creep -to hide beneath the cut corn. The rabbit is faint-hearted; if he once -loses his bearings, he loses his senses also; but it is surprising -with what perseverance he will run when he can see a haven of safety -ahead. - - * * * * * - - -Rabbit-Catchers' Craft - -The man of experience, who knows his rabbits, does not unduly exert -himself. Taking things calmly, he may catch more rabbits than others -who are better runners but more excitable. He knows that the great -thing is to stand still, rather waiting for the rabbits to come to -him than going after them. As a binder works round a field, he moves -quietly in the opposite way; then, catching sight of a rabbit crouching -beneath a piece of knapweed, some tangled bindweed, or a thistle, his -upraised stick falls with certain aim, and instantly he puts into -force the rustic law of possession. Or, moving quietly along, he will -hold in his right hand a heavy stone, while several others are held -in the other hand behind his back; when he sees a rabbit far within -the corn, his stones fly with crushing force, and the rabbit's day is -done. Sometimes towards the finish of the cutting he will take up his -position far from the frenzied throng around the binder, at some quiet -spot at the edge of the haven wood; here, watching the rabbits that -have escaped the sticks and stones of the main body, he tries to turn -them as they run the last few yards of their course. If he succeeds, -the rabbit, already worn by a long run, makes a last desperate spurt, -but can go no more than a few score yards. Should the rabbit run past -him, its course unchecked by his frantic yells and flourishes, he -troubles himself no further, and saves his breath. - -Among the Corn - -It is when the binder is going on its last few rounds and only a -small patch of corn is left standing in the middle of the field that -excitement reaches its height. Hitherto no one has been allowed to -enter the standing corn; but now all sense of decency and restriction -is thrown to the winds, and the end is simply a mad scramble for the -rabbits that lurk to the last moment. Sharp eyes have followed the -movements of the rabbits by the slight swaying to and fro of the ears -of the corn; but now the corn is alive with rabbits, and among them are -hurled the frenzied bodies of men, women, and children, who hit wildly -and blindly with their sticks. Sticks and stones rain on rabbits, corn, -and men. And on the edge of the fray stands the quiet figure of the man -who will not exert himself, who watches for the few rabbits who come -alive from the corn. One other quiet and calm figure is in the heart of -the turmoil--the gamekeeper, who bestirs himself only in the interests -of game. With ever-watchful eye and warning voice he sternly represses -those who, overcome by the lust of killing, would recklessly slaughter, -besides rabbits, the young pheasants or the crouching leverets. Great -is the relief of the keeper when the last corn is cut and the harvest -festival of the countryman is over for the year. - - * * * * * - - -The Last to Leave - -This free and easy sport which the cutting of the corn provides for -a mixed and excited crowd makes a scene very familiar in any English -countryside. The driver of the binder, as he is carried round and round -the cornfield, in ever-narrowing circles, gains a good view of the -rabbits and the game, stealing about in their fear; and now and again -he may be observed to dismount to club a rabbit with his whip-handle. -On farms where the rabbits are considered the natural rights of the -harvesters, old hands grow very cunning at making the most of their -chance when the last few yards of standing corn remain to be cut, and -the rabbits, with which the little strip of cover is seething, at last -bolt out, to be fallen upon by the men in waiting, and to be slain -as fast as sticks can rain blows. Rabbits remain in their sanctuary -of corn long after the fox has stolen away, and the pheasants, rats, -stoats, and weasels have followed after. - - * * * * * - - -In the Woods - -It is a matter of importance that the woodland rides shall be trimmed -before harvest-time, so that the woods may be sanctuaries to the -corn's evicted creatures. On many shoots this trimming is left to a -woodman; he may be responsible for all such work over a large estate -let to various tenants. As a consequence, the rides of some of the -woods are likely to remain untrimmed until just before the time of -covert-shooting, when the work will seriously disturb game. Keepers -prefer to trim the rides on their beats themselves, at such odd moments -as between the feeding of hand-reared pheasants, and with the help of -labourers who are glad enough to earn a few extra shillings during -the long evenings of July. The work in this way is done betimes, and -all the better for shooting purposes. The harvest migration of game -to the woods tells many a story to the keeper. Foxes who have spent a -happy summer entirely in the game-stocked cornfields do not come in -unnoticed. Fresh-made runs in the fences leading to the coverts tell -of the passage of stoats. Hedgehogs work their way in from the fields; -they are more numerous than most people imagine, and the keeper holds -them responsible for many a ruined game-nest. - - * * * * * - - -Weasel Families - -As the summer wanes, families of stoats and weasels break up, and -parents cease to have any dealings with their offspring. This severance -of the family ties throws a light upon wild creatures and their young. -Having given their young ones a good start in life, many seem to -dismiss them from their minds. One grove will not nurture two robins, -and the day comes when Cock Robin will drive his young hopeful into -the world, and will attack him fiercely if he dare again approach his -presence. The wild rabbit that on one day, in defence of her young -ones, faces and drives away a stoat, her deadliest foe, on the next -day leaves them to the mercy of fate--a new family having arrived. The -mother stoat stays with her young ones for a long while, sometimes -until they are much larger than herself; but sooner or later comes the -day of parting. - - * * * * * - - -Mother Stoat - -She is an admirable mother. Her litters are large ones--numbering as -a rule from five to eight, though occasionally as many as twelve are -found--and the feeding of these hungry mouths can only be a work of -desperate energy in the weaning days. It is a fine sight to see the -mother foraging at the head of her grown-up family. A long time passes -before the young stoats can cater for themselves. The mother does not -leave them until they are perfectly qualified to hunt on their own -accord--which their innate blood-thirstiness at last prompts them to -do in preference to eating food which their mother has captured. In -the young stoat's natural love of hunting lies the cause of the final -severance of family ties. With many animals it appears that motherly -solicitude continues relatively to the relief obtained through the -young taking their mother's milk. Yet in the stoat there appears to -be a scrap of the human mother's reasoning love for her children. We -have known a stoat whose young had been destroyed, when as large as -herself, to seek them out, and with diligent care and labour remove -their bodies to a distant resting-place, where she stayed by them for -days, though she appeared no longer to bring them their former abundant -supplies of food. When a stoat, the mother of a family, is killed, -her young do not fail to come to her--but in this case there is no -disinterested love. The apparent affection springs chiefly from desire -of food. No food forthcoming, the young stoats quickly begin to devour -their unfortunate mother. The gamekeeper knows that having once caught -a mother stoat, he will have little difficulty in catching her family -also; but having captured the family, it is by no means easy to secure -the mother. - -When June comes, litters of young stoats, each one as big as the -mother, are strong enough to travel about, but for many weeks they -remain together, and depend for food on what their mother catches. Like -fox cubs, they spend their days eating, sleeping, and playing. Without -the aid of a trained dog the keeper is unlikely to discover the lodging -of a litter unless he chances to see the mother going to her young. He -may see her entering a burrow, a bavin-pile, a pile of hurdle-rods, -or of hurdles, or he may chance to see the young stoats out at play. -Should he come upon their playground his sharp eyes instantly note the -runs and the signs of rollings in the herbage--the playground is as the -playground of fox cubs in miniature. The comings and goings of a mother -stoat are cunning and silent. Once we found a place where a litter had -been lodging for weeks within a few yards of a man who had been making -hurdles day after day, and his report was that he had not seen "ne'er -a sign of a stoo-at." The family had gone when we found their lodging, -and it was evident that the old stoat had moved her young ones at night -just before they were old enough to proclaim their presence by coming -out from their wood-pile to play. - - * * * * * - - -Lurking-places - -The keeper's eyes are always open for stoats. They are fond of prying -about the base of a gate-post, where a trap is often set to good -purpose. Then they delight in frisking along the middle of a ride, -especially after rain. There the keeper sets a tunnel trap, covering -it with bundles of brushwood; and every stoat that comes along will -explore so likely a lurking-place for a rabbit, and each naturally -enters by the fatal passage. Those heaps of corn-rakings placed in -the woods for pheasants form a favourite stoat-haunt. Here they find -a warm, dry lair, and good hunting, for the corn attracts a crowd of -small birds. Chancing once to right an overturned sheep-trough which -had been lying inverted for some weeks, we disturbed the peace of a -couple of stoats which had made the trough their home. They were gone -like flashes of lightning, and though we overturned the trough again -for their benefit, they had the good sense not to be caught napping a -second time. - -Not half the stoats that are caught are trapped by bait; for the only -bait which is a certain charm is something which the stoat has caught -itself, from the enjoyment of which it has been newly disturbed. Many -stoats are shot. They pursue young blackbirds and thrushes which -hover about the sides of country lanes; and when intent on dragging a -blackbird up a bank they give the keeper the easiest of marks. Should -his coming drive a feeding stoat to cover, he has only to wait within -range for a few minutes for a chance to pull the avenging trigger. -Stoats would soon be exterminated if they were attracted to baited -traps for the sake of food. It would seem that they come chiefly from -curiosity; for though they live on warm flesh and blood, when they fall -victims to traps it is usually in those with the bait stale and strong -in scent. - - * * * * * - - -Studies in Stoat Ways - -We heard a gamekeeper say that he would be better pleased to harbour -a litter of cubs on his beat than a litter of stoats. But this was -too flattering a compliment to the stealthiest of the keeper's foes: -foxes would smile at a comparison between the havoc they play with -game interests and all the robber-work of stoats and weasels combined. -No doubt the gamekeeper's idea was that while foxes may be found and -dealt with according to their deserts without difficulty, stoats may be -on the ground and do endless damage before they are detected. With a -litter of cubs on his ground the keeper, if minded, may promptly put an -end to the nuisance. But he may never congratulate himself that there -are no stoats. Where there is game, there stoats must be also. Just -where they lurk the keeper may never know; and every art may fail to -catch these sly thieves. - -The keeper does not wait to see a stoat before he sets his traps; -usually when a stoat is caught he sees it for the first time. During -the mating season, in the early spring, stoats are trapped most easily. -When one has been caught it serves as a lure to attract others. The -body is suspended just out of the reach of curious relatives and -friends, and a neatly hidden trap is set beneath it. Since rabbits -supply the staple food of stoats, they serve as bait: anything that -suggests newly done rabbit work is almost sure to attract the attention -of any passing stoat. So after setting a trap just inside a hole in -the track of stoats, the keeper with his stick scratches up a little -fresh soil on each visit to the trap, to imitate what he calls the -"ferricking" of a rabbit. A hollow underwood stump is always a likely -place for a stoat. Rabbits love to sit in such stumps, and a stoat -never misses a chance to investigate them, surprising the rabbit before -he can scoot away, and then himself lodging in a recess of the stump, -on a cosy couch made from the fur of his victim. - - * * * * * - - -The First - -Nowadays, the First on a large shoot passes much as other days, for -October has usurped the prestige of September, and the big partridge -drives are reserved until that month. But when the keeper goes home -to his tea on the First, his wife, with ever-ready sympathy, is -likely enough to notice "summat's up." There is a scowl on the tanned -face, and a vindictive look in the keen eyes, and the way in which -the thirsty throat is flushed with a pint or so of tea suggests a -forlorn attempt to drown trouble. At last the murder is out: "They -pot-hunters," growls the keeper, "they has bin and wiped out half -my birds." Shots have been heard all day near his boundary; on the -neighbouring small shoot the First has not been allowed to go by -unhonoured. - - * * * * * - - -Early Birds - -With the First come poachers, anxious to win the big rewards paid for -the earliest birds to reach the market. Netting is not so prevalent as -of old, but more of it is done than most people imagine, since netting -is practised in the dark, and in fields easily entered from public -roads. The best preventive is to dress the fields in which the birds -chiefly jug--stubbles, pastures, and fallows--with small pieces of -tangled wire-netting, and small bushes, left lying on the ground, so -that they may roll with the net, and entangle it the more hopelessly. -A sneaking method of poaching is to set gins in the partridges' -dusting-places, such as ash-heaps, the remains of burnt couch--the -keeper forms a habit of probing such dust-baths with his stick. As -dawn breaks on September 1, the poacher conceals himself in a ditch -commanding a fallow where the coveys jug. Then he sends his dog or his -son to stroll casually and slowly to and fro across the field at the -far end. The birds, not hard-pressed enough to take wing, make for a -furrow, and run in a solid bunch towards the ambush, to be greeted by -a heavy charge of shot, calculated to account for several brace. One -shot--a rush for the fallen birds--and the poacher has flown. - - * * * * * - - -Walking-up - -One hears a great deal of praise lavished on the old-fashioned style of -walking-up partridges, to the detriment of driving. True, where birds -and cover are not abundant, a bag of fifteen brace or so made by two or -three guns will often represent much clever sportsmanship--besides a -hard day's tramping and some shots not to be despised. Yet there is a -way of walking-up birds which is nothing more nor less than butchery. -In September, the partridges are mobbed and worn out by men whose duty -it is to drive them from the barer fields into thick roots, there to be -walked up--and snuffed out like so many candles at short range. This -may be magnificent for the bag, but it is not sport. Again, partridges -on occasion may even be walked up in standing corn. That is a moral -crime, and ought to be a legal one. - - * * * * * - - -Thoughts on Cubbing - -With September, cubbing begins--and the young of the thief of the -world must justify their existence by making sport. Many sudden and -bewildering shocks the cubs receive. Hitherto their lives have been -peaceful enough. No wolf has found them out in the cornfields where -they have been learning to hunt their own game; no wild dog has dug a -way into the nursery earth. To be hunted is quite a new experience. -The cubs are spared at least the dread of anticipation as in the early -hours of a September morning they settle to sleep in their soft warm -kennel, canopied by bracken and brambles. Dreaming, it may be, of their -own night's sport, the cheerful voice of the huntsman, as he urges on -his newly entered puppies to draw with their elders, means no more than -a general alarm to the cubs' drowsy ears. Again and again the hunt may -come, yet a cub may have no thought of a game, with life or death as -the stake. Not until the attentions of the hounds become pressing and -particular can he awake fully to what cub-hunting means. Then perhaps -it is too late. But an old fox is quick enough to hear the first sound -of the hunt; he breaks away at an unguarded corner, and is allowed to -go. - -There is little chance for the cub when, fat from long ease, he is -pushed at last from the home-wood, with the pack in cry a few short -chains behind his apology for a brush. A fox-hound, if often cowardly, -is a foe of terribly unequal size and strength, one carefully fed, -thoroughly schooled to hunting, and trained to great staying power. -But a young hound is as indifferent to the business of hunting as is -a cub when disturbed for the first time in its life. Lackadaisical is -the word for the attitude of each. It is an unfortunate cub that slinks -aside to avoid a too-inquisitive puppy and walks into the jaws of an -old hound. - -A cub is to be known from an old fox by its lankiness and legginess. -Full growth is not attained until late November; from Christmas-time -is the season when the amorous barking of the foxes of the year may -be heard, as they run through the woods in the night, seeking their -mates. In early autumn the cub's brush is lacking in bushiness, and is -obviously pointed at the tip. By Christmas--if Christmas is to come -for him--the brush will be in full-blown glory. A popular superstition -among countrymen is that a white tip to a fox's brush denotes a -dog-fox, while its absence is a sure sign of vixenhood. Another old -fallacy that dies hard is that a fox will fascinate a roosting pheasant -by gazing steadfastly into its eyes--hypnotising it so completely that -the bird drops at last into the waiting jaws. But a fox's tricks need -no bush. He will hoax rabbits by rolling as if in innocent frolic, -rolling his way nearer and nearer until, with a perfectly calculated -spring, he may make sure of his supper. And he will feign death so well -as to deceive a wary old huntsman. Many a fox's body has been dug out -of a hole and thrown aside as a carcass, only to come miraculously to -life, and to fly at the first chance. - - * * * * * - - -Wines of the Country - -Country folk brew wine from numberless things--and the marvel is -how they survive the drinking. Yet some of the simple wines are -excellent--as parsnip wine and sloe gin. Beside all care in the making, -the secret of parsnip wine is to brew it at the right time, which -is just after fresh top growth begins in roots left in the ground, -when the spine of the parsnips themselves turns as tough as wood. A -good recipe from a keeper's note-book is this: Take three pounds of -parsnips, a quarter of an ounce of hops, three pounds of lump sugar, -and one gallon of water. Wash, clean, slice and boil the parsnips until -tender. Add the hops, boil for five minutes, strain on to the sugar, -and stir until the sugar dissolves. When the liquor is lukewarm add -yeast, and when the working is done, barrel, bung, bottle and drink in -due season. - -We would give a word of warning to the inexperienced: Do not sample -home-brewed wines too freely, however freely offered. Country folk -put quantity before quality, and seldom offer their wines in anything -but tumblers--and if you manage to empty one tumbler, you will need -will-power, if not willingness, to avoid taking another glassful. -To leave a drop of home-brewed wine, when once you have tasted it, -is an insult to the maker. We remember how the wife of a keeper was -unjustly blamed for the power of her rhubarb wine, of which a caller -had partaken freely. He went his way smacking his lips; lighting his -pipe, he strolled happily along a path of rabbit-mown turf, through a -fine old park. But in a little while he felt a desire to lie down, and -soon his groans were spreading panic among the park deer. He cursed the -gamekeeper's wife and her rhubarb wine; but it turned out that he had -borrowed from the keeper a little flowers of sulphur, which, escaping -from its packet, had found a way into his pipe: hence his pain and -sickness. - - - - -AUTUMN - - -The Verdict of the Season - -To find out how the wild birds have fared is always difficult: one -never sees them properly until the days of shooting are at hand--and -not always then, when a sight of them rather under than over forty -yards distant might be welcome. We may pass by a wood outside which -many pheasants may be feeding, as a flock of fowls, or sitting lazily -about on the fences, some perhaps indolently stretching a wing in the -pleasant wallow of a dust-bath; but this does not prove that pheasants -have done well--merely that there are so many pheasants at a certain -place; it does not even prove that they will be there the next day. -Such a spot may be a place where large numbers of pheasants are reared. -One may count a hundred birds in the corner of a field--perhaps there -should have been a hundred and fifty. Or perhaps the hundred to be seen -means better luck than usual in the breeding season in that particular -part. A man who sees pheasants where he does not know how many were -bred may think a dozen a large number, or he may view with scorn the -sight of several hundreds if he has been accustomed to see thousands. -We know places where so many pheasants may be seen at any time as to -suggest that they swarm there regardless of the season. But the birds -seen casually may have been bought from a game-farm and turned down, -to make up a supply that failed. However, it always delights the -sportsman's eye to see many pheasants about a wood--especially if he -has the shooting. - -From a just standpoint, it is the comparison of what might have been -with what is that settles the verdict on the pheasant season. The -season cannot be judged by the birds of one preserve. Allowance must -be made for many points. The number of wild broods to wild hens left -to manage their own affairs, and the number of eggs set under fowls -and how they hatched must be considered. Then the quality of the -rearing-ground makes one district much better than another--whether -heavy or light, low-lying or high, and rich or poor in natural food. -The question of foxes must be weighed, and one would like to know -before judging a season from any one case how many birds were turned -into covert at five to seven weeks old, and how many fell victims to -foxes--to say nothing of gapes. - - * * * * * - - -Weather to pray for - -The keeper may control the supply of hand-reared birds: he may make -up for the spoiling of an egg, or the loss of a chick, which would -otherwise mean a pheasant the less; but he has no control over the -season as it affects wild birds. What he prays for is a showery April, -with a sun to shine between the storms. And he wants fair weather after -the middle of May, the longer the better. A bright warm summer is good -for all pheasants, whether it be their fate to start life beneath a -fowl in a stuffy, if cosy, coop, or to be gathered beneath the breast -and wings of their real mother in the wood, or among the corn. A fine -summer means more to birds than to man, for to them it is a matter of -life or death. - - * * * * * - - -After the Opening - -Walking home through the woods on the evening of an October First, we -came to a standstill before a low tree-branch on which an old cock -pheasant was going to roost. We were within a yard of him; yet he -sat stock-still, and stared at us fearlessly with unblinking eyes. -The minutes passed, and after we had stood there for some little -time, staring back at the old pheasant, it really seemed that we had -established a bond of communication. And this is what we understood the -old cock to be saying: - -"Here I am, you see, and not afraid of you; and none the worse for an -opening day that has been, I must admit, a trifle lively. And I may -inform you that before I went to roost I made careful inquiries among -my very numerous progeny, and not one is a feather the worse for all -the banging that has been going on. All are in good condition, in -fine plumage, and strong on the wing as usual, and, I may add, on the -leg. By the way, I myself, in the course of the day, from a secure -retreat, watched more than one sportsman critically examining the -bodies of several unfortunate birds--needless to say, there was no son -or daughter of mine among them. _Good_ night." - - * * * * * - - -An October Day - -Here is the gamekeeper's idea of what constitutes a pleasantly -flavoured October 1: The day should break with a misty dawn, grey dewy -cobwebs everywhere betokening a visible if tardy sun. There should -be a brace of spaniels whose occasional lapses after fur are atoned -for by their untiring energy among the blind tangles of hedgerows and -dells. There should be three guns whose object is to enjoy sport and to -make a mixed bag, including incidentally the first pheasants--without -the formality of the so-called battue. There should be a couple of -experienced beaters, and a keeper whose soul is set on circumventing -certain wary old cocks that are known to him as leaders astray of -youthful birds. The killing of pheasants should not be the main thing; -if the charm of the First of October lay only in this it would quickly -fade. Next to the potting of young rooks with a shot-gun as they sit -stoically near their nests, few phases of shooting call for less skill -than pheasant-shooting in early October. - - * * * * * - - -Low Flight and High - -Grouse, partridges, and pheasants are low-flying birds, unlike -wood-pigeons and rooks; it is their habit to skim along near to earth. -And pheasants might be truly described as ground birds. Only on -occasions do they fly high, and then usually for one of three definite -causes. Flushed on high ground they may maintain a high elevation as -they cross a valley. Rising on low ground, the direction of their -flight may necessitate an upward line, as when trees or hills lie -before them. Forced to rise suddenly, having lain low while danger has -approached, on finding men in full sight between themselves and the -place they have determined to reach they then rocket instinctively. -Rooks and wood-pigeons naturally fly at a height well out of gunshot; -and the cynical critic of British shooting methods might observe with -truth that the bagging of a dozen ordinary wood-pigeons involves a -higher order of sportsmanship than the bagging of fifty ordinary -pheasants. - - * * * * * - - -Wily Grouse Cocks - -As with partridges, a great benefit has followed the fashion of driving -grouse, instead of walking them up, with setters and pointers: for the -familiar reason that the old birds come first to the guns and are the -first to be shot. If not shot, these old birds would not allow the -young ones to nest near them, and would drive them far afield: and -another advantage is that the young birds which are spared are the most -productive. Moorland keepers at the end of the season are at pains to -kill off old cocks, which are such enemies to the peaceful nesting of -the young birds; and many are their devices for stalking and calling -them to their doom. Except when feeding, the wary old birds like to be -able to look all about them, and perch on walls and hillocks, whence, -holding their heads high, their eyes may sweep afar for foes. Unlike -partridges, they are not content with the grain in the stubble, but -will perch on the stooks at harvest-time, to attack the sheaves. - - * * * * * - - -Rewards for Cubs - -Until the last field of corn is cut, cubs are spared their introduction -to the joys and sorrows of hunting; but at the end of harvest their -time is at hand. Few keepers look forward to the coming of hounds for -cubbing. When hounds do come there is nothing more disappointing to the -keeper than that they should not find the cubs, of whose dark deeds he -has been complaining all the summer. Not only does he lose the prospect -of a sovereign reward, but the cubs are still at large to carry on -their havoc, while he may appear to have been crying wolf where there -were no wolves; the loss of the sovereign is much less to him than the -loss of his credit and the prospective loss of his birds. Different -hunts have different methods of rewarding keepers whose cubs are found -by hounds. One hunt works on the irrational plan of giving a keeper -a sovereign for each litter found, and ten shillings extra if a cub -is killed. This is almost as much as to ask the keeper to take steps -towards handicapping the cubs when the pack presses. The keeper knows -how important it is that the young entry shall taste blood at this -time, and he knows that if scent fails, the best way to ensure a kill -is to allow the cub to run to ground. Instead of completely stopping an -earth, he arranges a slight barricade of twigs; and then he may know, -by whether the cub has broken the barricade or not, if it has run to -ground. He takes care to have a spade and a pick-axe close at hand. The -well-intentioned reward really ends in spoiling sport. - - * * * * * - - -"Various"--the Landrail - -In the bag of September partridge-shooting, the landrail is often the -only bird booked under the heading "Various," save for an occasional -wood-pigeon; at any rate, many look to the landrail to fill the -"Various" column, if they often look in vain. On a calm day, the -landrail is a weird mark, with its heavy, laboured flight, and its -dangling legs; the bird hardly suggests a sporting shot. But few who -have shot landrails have not also missed them. Landrails will even put -to shame the sportsman who has been bagging his brace of partridges -with wearisome monotony. So slow, as a rule, is the landrail in -heading away, after its silent rising from sainfoin or clover, that -we have seen one bagged by a thrown stick, another knocked down by a -keeper's partridge-carrier, as he held it in his hand, and another -caught on the wing by a dog; of course this is nothing uncommon. We -have even seen a terrier point and pounce on a landrail that was -crouching beneath its nose. But when a fair wind is blowing, the slow -landrail becomes as difficult a mark to hit as a snipe or a woodcock. -And a landrail has a disappointing habit of dropping when it comes to a -hedge, for all the world like a dead bird, though very much alive. - - * * * * * - - -Sport amid the Shocks - -Sportsmen may find partridge-shooting among shocks of uncarried corn -more interesting than shooting over a bare expanse of barren stubble. -The shocks or stooks help to mark the birds, alive or dead; and they -cause them to rise to a convenient height, so that they show sharp -and clear against the sky, instead of skimming away low against the -baffling tints of the autumn fields. And birds seem to lie better -among stooks than on bare stubble. They cannot see well or far among -the stooks, and they like to linger in the dusting-places that they -make in sheltered, sunny spots. Another point worth mentioning is less -obvious but none the less true--the stooks help the eye in aiming. It -always seems easier to hit a pheasant flying high between the tops of -trees, as down an avenue open to the sky, than in the open. So in the -cornfields before the harvest is garnered. And there is still another -point which adds to the charm found in shooting among the corn-sheaves: -when a covey bustles up, the birds spread out and scatter, for they -cannot see all the party at the same time; and so they may give each -gunner a mild taste of what the days of driving will bring. - - * * * * * - - -"Mark" - -Some men have a special gift for marking a bird that is down, while -others never know where the bird fell within half an acre. But marking -is only a matter of training the eyes, and anybody may learn the trick: -in time the eyes accurately note what they see almost unconsciously. -The sportsman cannot be too accurate in marking the fall of a bird. The -great thing is to take a good line--an imaginary line drawn from the -eye to the place where the bird fell: if at a far distance, the actual -spot will be nearer in reality than it seems. The accustomed eye finds -points which mark the line, if not the very spot, where the bird has -fallen--a spray of charlock flower, a thistle-stem, or a tinted leaf. -When a bird falls at a distance it is helpful to take some prominent -object in front and behind to mark the line--such as a gap and a -sapling in opposite hedges. - -A sportsman who is a master of the art of marking knows where to come -upon each bird he shoots singly; and when he scores a brace he knows -all about the second bird. Often he knows much more about the first -bird than those who have nothing else to do but to mark. The usual -rule is for the attendant to mark the first bird that falls and the -shooter the second. With two men to mark one bird it should be quite -easy to find the place. The bird will be within a yard of where the -two imaginary lines intersect. A common mistake made by sportsmen is -to suppose that because they have fired at a bird coming towards them -it must have fallen in front of them: more probably it has fallen -several yards behind, especially if it be a bird brought down by the -second barrel. It is not easy to mark the place where a covey pitches. -On seeing the birds suddenly lower their line of flight, a sportsman -may suppose they have alighted, unless he still keeps a watchful eye -on them, for birds often lower their flight when they have crossed a -hollow or a valley, and then skim on low over the crest of the hill. -However, when birds lower their line of flight, after flying some -distance, it is a sign that they contemplate settling. - - * * * * * - - -The Keeper's Dogs - -Among the many clever things that a gamekeeper's retriever learns is -how to mark a partridge which flies a long way and then towers. When -once he has grasped what is meant by the rising of a covey, the firing -of a shot, and the sight of a bird soaring away from the rest and -falling like a stone, he soon begins to watch for the bird that towers, -even without the exhortation, "Mark that bird!" A clever retriever -will mark the distant fall of a bird seen by no one but himself, and -either will dash off for the spot or show strong symptoms of wanting -to go. The well-trained dog finds the bird that he has not seen fall. -On being ordered to "go on" he gallops in the direction indicated by a -wave of his master's hand, and when he hears the word "Halt," or sees -a hand-signal, then he begins to cast, and seldom in vain. A retriever -will retrace his steps for a couple of miles or more to bring home a -dead rabbit or bird which his master has left behind in mistake. One -fine retriever had been trained never to give up game except to her -master; and it happened that as she was picking up a dead hare another -was wounded and ran away before her. She set off in pursuit, carrying -the dead hare, and though every man in a long line of beaters, keepers, -and guns attempted to relieve her of her burden, she refused to give -it up. On catching the wounded hare, she calmly held it down with one -paw and waited until her master came to her assistance. Keepers, of all -men, have least doubt about the reasoning powers of their dogs. - - * * * * * - - -Woodcock Owls - -Autumn brings with woodcock the woodcock owls--as the short-eared owls -are called, because their flight is like a woodcock's, or because -they come at the same time. We would make the strongest plea for the -preservation of these most useful owls. When an unusual number appeared -in parts of the South of England, they made themselves very busy among -the rats that had taken lodgings in the root-fields. Yet a party of -town shooters, out after partridges, gloated more over the bagging of -one of these owls than over all the rest of their spoil. The owl was -wounded only enough to be caught--and his wound had cost the party -eleven cartridges. Perhaps if the short-eared owl bred here he might -be tempted to prey on young game; but very few remain to breed in the -north, and the young game is grown when the autumn migration begins. -Rats and mice with occasional small birds and some beetles form the -staple diet. - - * * * * * - - -Dogs that Despise Woodcock - -The difference in the tastes of dogs is curious, and often strongly -marked. Two terriers, boon companions at home, were taken to -the Hebrides; in their home haunts they hunted the same game -together--rats, rabbits, hares, partridges, and pheasants--but in -the north the chief sport was among woodcock, though there were -thousands of rabbits. Yet neither dog flushed a single woodcock, save -by accident, nor would take the slightest interest in any but rabbit -sport. They showed that marked aversion to woodcock common to many -dogs not used to them. Sometimes dogs will acquire a taste for hunting -and retrieving woodcock, and then make this a speciality. A curious -point in the case of the two terriers was that one suddenly became -very fond of the remains of cooked woodcock, whether hungry or not, -while the other refused ever to look at them, even when purposely kept -on short commons by way of experiment. It was a strange sight to see -the appreciative dog crunch up the frame of a woodcock, winding up the -performance by stowing away the head, bill and all. - -The best retrievers usually refuse to pick up and carry a woodcock, -unless specially schooled to carry anything from puppyhood. To train -puppies to fetch and carry things objectionable alike to their sense -of smell and touch, perhaps the best plan is to teach them to retrieve -well-filled tobacco-pouches. They may be thrown long distances, and a -dog will never bite them--at least, twice--and so acquires a perfect -mouth. A retriever not trained in this way will probably refuse to -touch a woodcock, in spite of every coaxing--one, induced at last to -pick up a woodcock, has been known to spit it out, turning up his lip -in contempt, and otherwise showing his intense scorn. Now and again -a young and obedient retriever may bring in woodcock at the first -trial--but with a look of anything but relish. - - * * * * * - - -Pets of Pigs - -One hardly thinks of pigs as possible pets; yet those who have brought -them up and acted the part of foster-mother, agree that they make -charming pets, energetic and entertaining. They soon know the step -of their master, and rush furiously to greet him with every sign of -delight. If properly kept no pet could be more cleanly in habit. - -We know a village pig-butcher who, by the irony of fate, made a pet -of two little pigs, and was very proud of his black and white twins, -as he called them. He reared them by hand, and nothing could be more -entertaining than their way of taking their meals of milk and water; -they had been trained to rest their front trotters on a box, with -the idea of saving their foster-parent's garments, and would greet -the sight of their bottle with joyous grunts. These piglets, at -weaning-time, had cost their master in food the sum of 7_s._ 9_d._ Had -he cared to sell them they would have brought him in about £4 each; or -supposing he were to kill them himself and convert them into bacon, -his bacon would cost him about 3-1/2_d._ a pound. That this was his -intention we gathered from his remark: "I'll see as I don't pay no more -'levenpences a pound for bacon." The pigs in the first place had cost -him nothing; they were the "darls" or last-born pigs of their litters, -which are generally inferior to their numerous brothers and sisters, -and are often given away. Clearly a darl may make a profitable pet. - - * * * * * - - -Some Deals in Dogs - -The gamekeeper, as a rule, is an old hand at dog-dealing. All keepers -have an eye for a dog, and are tempted to buy for a song any sort of -sporting dog, in the hope of making a few shillings or pounds by a -quick sale. We knew a keeper who would buy almost anything that could -be described as a dog, but his stock price was "A bob and a pot"--a -shilling, that is to say, with a quart of beer. When a shoot is let, -and the keeper's services go with it, he often has a good chance to -make money over dog-deals. Outgoing tenants commonly make him a present -of a useful, general-purpose retriever, or spaniel--a dog that has done -a good deal of all-round work on the shoot. A dog may be a good dog -only on one shoot, or he may obey only one keeper; so when the tenant -goes away he leaves his dog where it can do the most good in the world, -kennel, chain, collar and all. Then a new tenant comes in, to whom the -keeper offers the dog with its outfit--the whole being, as he declares, -"honestly worth five pounds to the shoot." But he will take three -pounds, and it is clear profit. And the new tenant makes a good bargain. - - * * * * * - - -Marked Birds - -A white or a pied bird, whether rook, blackbird, starling, finch, or -sparrow, never fails to hold the eye, and may become a character of -public interest in a neighbourhood. Its usual fate is to be shot--the -fate of any rare wild creature. The sportsman sees no special reason -for sparing a pied pheasant that has come to his coverts--he shoots it -at the first chance for the sake of the few seconds' pleasure given by -the curious plumage before it is tossed with the rest on the game-cart. -But the keeper silently mourns for the death of the pied bird. If he -voices his lament, he receives a stock answer: "Well, it is too late -now." Happy the keeper who succeeds in catching up a bird that he -treasures, so that he may give it safe shelter until the rattle of guns -is silenced. - - * * * * * - - -Colour-Changes in Feathers - -"Once a pied bird always a pied bird" is the expression of a common -fallacy. A pheasant may be almost white for months, then change -colour, and become hardly different from other birds. A pied bird -tends to become more pied as the time of moulting approaches. A homely -illustration of this increasing lightness of colour is seen when a -black cat is about to change its coat; then the fur turns a rusty -brown. When this is shed the new growth seems blacker than ever. A -black cat or dog with white marks nearly always has young with similar -markings. And if you have a white or pied hen pheasant, in spite of the -fact that after a moult her new feathers may come of the ordinary brown -shade, you may expect, perhaps, half the chicks from her eggs to wear -their mother's pretty white or pied dress. Birds that have been pied -in their youth, then have put on sober apparel, again put on the showy -shade of feathers in their old age, though it is a lucky pheasant that -reaches anything like old age, whether pied or not. - - * * * * * - - -Nature's Healing - -Nature is a kindly doctor--and though any accident to the flying or -running powers of a wild creature probably means death, miraculous -recoveries are to noted. Rabbits commonly suffer from broken legs, -whether from gunshot, trap, or other cause; but limbs often heal and -become serviceable members again. Nor is a broken wing always enough -to cause the death of a game-bird. Should the bird escape its foes -while the broken bone is setting, it may live to fly, if not quite as -well as ever. We noticed once that one bird in a covey of partridges -flew more slowly than the others; it was shot, and when picked up we -found that there had been an old wing fracture, and that the broken -ends had crossed and overlapped in setting. A curious case was that -of a partridge which was shot in the wing, and ran when followed -through the turnips by a retriever. Several times the bird sprang -above the turnips, attempting, but in vain, to fly; then, when the dog -seemed about to catch it, the bird gave a final spring, and this time -flew straight away. But after fifty yards or so it dropped to earth, -falling almost perpendicularly. The explanation seemed to be that the -fractured bone-ends had joined, and kept their place accidentally, for -the few moments of the flight. - - * * * * * - - -A Little Story - -A sporting old gentleman, who was very deaf, always took a small boy -with him shooting, whose duty seemed to be to stand behind his master -and do nothing. He never carried cartridges, and looked incapable of -loading a gun. One day we asked the boy to explain his mission in life. -"'Tis this way," said he. "In each hand I holds a pin, and I gives the -master a prick behind to let him know when game be a-coming--if on this -side or on t'other." - - * * * * * - - -Accidents to Hares - -More than once, descending the steep face of the Downs, we have set -foot upon hares in their forms--crouching so closely as to be unseen -until felt; and once we have witnessed a curious fatal accident -which befell a half-grown hare through the habit of lying low. -Partridge-shooting was going on in a field of sainfoin, and as the guns -lined out from the fence we saw this hare dancing, as it were, on her -head. It was a dance of death, and before we could reach her puss was -lying still. One of the guns had actually trodden on her head, and had -passed on unknowingly. Half-grown and undersized hares seen in autumn -have small chance of enduring through the winter; with the setting in -of cold weather their fate is sealed; they are unable to thrive on the -rough frosted food, and are claimed by a lingering death. In the wet -days of autumn, when showers of leaves and rain are falling, hares -change their quarters in the woods for the open fields, preferring of -all places a stubble-field free of grasses that hold the moisture. -The fall of rain and moist leaves has an opposite effect upon the -rabbits--driving them to the shelter of their newly renovated burrows, -where they lie all day, snug, warm, and dry. - - * * * * * - - -Hares no longer Speedy - -We have heard of terriers who have chased hares and caught them after a -burst of less than a field's-breadth; but we have never seen a terrier -catch a sound hare in a fair run, though we have known a clever little -dog to flash up a ditch and seize a loitering hare, and we have often -known a hare to be caught napping in her seat. The hares that terriers -catch after short runs have been in some trap or snare, or have been -shot, or otherwise wounded, or probably they are diseased. The wonder -is that hares can run so fast and long as they do in a state of -advanced disease. Hares suffer each year in some places from a disease -of a typhous nature, aggravated by feeding on frosted clover. Parting -the white fur on the underside of such a hare the skin is found to be -green. There is good cause to be suspicious of disease whenever a thin -hare is seen in autumn or winter. - - * * * * * - - -Starling Hosts - -Too many starlings in a given place are likely to be a serious -trouble--in fact they make a place almost impossible for other -inhabitants. Starlings haunt many kinds of roosting-places--the high -reeds, the woods, and the shrubs about a house. The keeper finds small -pleasure in the thunderous noise of their wings in his coverts. Towards -the end of October the sales of underwood take place; thereafter -the underwood is cut, and this often drives the starlings from an -old roosting-haunt to fresh woods, where their presence is far from -desirable, in view of the approaching covert-shooting. Naturally, -people hesitate to take preventive measures, such as shooting or -lighting fires of green wood, for the shots or the smoke would drive -away pheasants as well as starlings. Yet it is wiser thus to drive away -one season's pheasants than to have the wood made impossible for many -years--to all save starlings. - - * * * * * - - -[Illustration: STARLINGS ROOSTING ON REEDS. - -LONDON, EDWARD ARNOLD.] - - -Trials of a Copser - -While we have never met any one who actually hated honeysuckle, if -there is a man who curses it occasionally it is the copse-worker -chopping underwood. A honeysuckle trail will turn a well-aimed blow -from its true direction, and so may cause the copser to cut himself -very badly--even a slight blow from his sharp bill-hook is a serious -matter. The copser's hand and arm have received the order to swing -outwards to gather force for a quick stroke--honeysuckle arrests the -bill-hook and turns its direction, while the hand and arm disastrously -go on with the reflex part of the order. And though we do not suppose -there is a copse-worker in the whole world who does not appreciate -rabbits to eat, probably most of them speak at times as harshly of -rabbits as of honeysuckle. For rabbits gnaw the underwood, and when -the butt of a stem has been gnawed by rabbits' teeth, part of the wood -dies, and is far harder to cut than a clean stem. - - * * * * * - - -Wild Birds in Cages - -We have heard from several people that owls are among the birds that -cannot be tamed and kept as pets; but this idea is a fallacy. Barn-owls -taken from the nest, and properly handled, grow into attractive pets, -and we know a pair of them, about four months old, who sit on their -master's shoulders, and seem to return his affection. We dislike the -idea of rearing wild birds in captivity--especially such useful birds -as barn-owls, who are better employed in catching mice than in doing -tricks. But nearly all birds are susceptible to a taming treatment, -even such shy creatures as the redshanks of the marshes, the wariest -of birds in their wild state. There are people who seem to possess a -natural instinct for understanding birds, as others for handling dogs, -horses, or snakes. - - * * * * * - - -Truffles - -The truffle-hunter, roaming with his little dogs over park lands and -other pleasant places, seems to lead a fine, independent life. And he -confesses to making money on no mean scale. His professional fee is a -pound a day, with all expenses to be paid. The truffles are sold at -3_s_. the pound; but each truffle may cost the consumer fully half a -guinea, stewed, as it should be, in rich wine. The truffle-hunter may -tell you that his dogs are of the original truffle-hunting breed. Yet -we have no doubt that any dog with a good nose could be trained to find -truffles as easily as a retriever can be broken to hedgehogs. - - * * * * * - - -Retriever's Usefulness - -The gamekeeper's retriever will learn to discover the whereabouts of -every hedgehog in a ditch. A clever dog will find in a few hours as -many hedgehogs as a week of trapping will secure--miles of hedges may -be cleared in a day in the summer. The dog must be kept under absolute -control, lest he disturb sitting birds, thereby, perhaps, doing as -much damage as might the hedgehogs. Almost any dog may be trained to a -particular work, such as playing the bloodhound's part, and following -the trail of men, whether friends or strangers--even terriers may -become useful trackers. The night-dogs used by gamekeepers--crosses -between mastiffs and bulldogs--will follow poachers through the woods -during the blackest hours of night. - -A retriever is wonderfully useful for many purposes besides recovering -game. A dog, which had never seen a cricket ball, was with us when we -chanced to be crossing a field, at dusk, where a ball had been lost in -thick cow-parsley in the shade of trees. The cricketers appealed for -our help; we cleared the course, and set on the dog. She took the wind, -trotted along, turned suddenly, ran straight for a score of yards, and -came back, the lost ball in her mouth. Perhaps she worked it out in her -own mind that as no shot had been fired there was no game to follow, -and the ball-scent must therefore be the one she was required to track. -No doubt she would have left the line of the ball if the scent of -anything in the shape of dead game had reached her sensitive nose. - - * * * * * - - -Nuts and Mice - -The gamekeeper classes the nutters among "the reg'lar plagues" of -his life. Not that he begrudges them their nuts, but that they stand -for an old, old story of innocent pleasures and game disturbance. As -primrose-pickers are to the nesting pheasants of April, so are nutters -to the young birds of October, and the final result is always an -angry keeper. His young birds at this season are ever ready to avail -themselves of an excuse to stray to fresh woods. The nutter who would -avoid the keeper should avoid paths, and lie very low and still when -the keeper comes his way. This lesson in woodcraft had been mastered so -thoroughly by one young nutter of our acquaintance that when a keeper -chanced to pass along the ride near which he was picking, he still -lay low when the keeper's words were almost in his ear: "Where be ye? -Ah, I sees ye. Come out on it, then!" And he was duly rewarded by the -knowledge that these remarks were merely an exhortation to pheasants to -feed. - -Dormice are the chief of all lovers of hazel-nuts. They are found very -often at work by human nutters; and their nest is seen sheltered by -hazel leaves--a neat round structure, built of dry grass, beautifully -woven. One autumn we came upon a nest containing six young dormice, -about half-grown and ready to run, and three of them, wonderful to -relate, were wholly white. Autumnal litters are common, and, as though -by a beautiful piece of foresight on the part of Nature, the favourite -nut food is most abundant just when the little mice are ready to give -up a milk diet. Though called "the mouse of the hazel," he seems as -partial to acorns as to hazel-nuts, and he is insectivorous, and feeds -heartily on nut-weevil grubs. With November he will be as fat as nuts -can make him, and before the month is out he will have fallen into his -long winter trance. The little reddish brown harvest-mouse seems to -have almost disappeared in the north of Hampshire and other parts, -and for years we have not seen a single specimen. The nest of the -harvest-mouse--cunningly woven amid the corn-stalks--used to be one -of the prettiest of things seen in the cornfields, especially when -the mouse was seen also, nibbling in his dainty way at the grain. To -go round an oat-stack and poke it with a stick was to disturb these -gregarious little creatures by the score. The common mouse remains as -plentiful as ever, and thousands are seen during the threshing of a -single stack; but the harvest-mouse has gone. So much the better, no -doubt, for the stacks. Their population of furred foes is always too -large--as some idea may be gained from the fact that in one season, -and from a group of three ricks, no fewer than 1300 rats were taken. -It is a proof of the barn-owls' value to farmers that they are often -caught in rat-traps set by holes at the base of stacks. The stack is a -favourite if sometimes a fatal hunting-place. - - * * * * * - - -The Hand of Time - -The keeper looks his best in autumn. To many the sight of him then is -most welcome, especially if the prospect of sport be fair, and the day -of fine promise. People who go to shoot season after season on one -estate are greeted year by year by the same friendly faces, nearly -all of them a little the worse for time's passage. The host is seen -to have aged between this October and last, with his butlers and his -beaters and bailiffs. The foreheads of the familiar old horses seem to -have sunk a little above the eyes. The dogs are remembered as playful -puppies; the headstrong creatures now grow grey about the muzzles. Boys -employed of old as "stops," when their height was less than the length -of the hares they dangled proudly over their backs, have now qualified -for the army of beaters; they have long since learnt the wisdom of not -leaving their "stopping" places to forage for hazel-nuts. All these -have grown older, and perhaps the visitor himself heaves a sigh as he -looks down on his own once trim and slender figure. - - * * * * * - - -The Keeper grows Old - -To the keeper alone of the time-honoured gathering seen on the lawn -before the house on an early October morning have the years been kind. -Over his face the winds have swept lightly; hardly an impression has -been made on his complexion by the sun, moon, and stars, and the hail, -snow, frosts, and mists of the year. On his forehead half a century of -life has ploughed no furrows. His cheeks are free of wrinkles; there -are no crow's-feet about the outside corners of his eyes. He holds the -secret of youth. His cheeks might be a girl's; there is a smoothness -and suppleness about the skin of his face. Still the muscles of his -arms stand out with proud fulness. And his eyes remain the keenest -spy-glasses of the party. His limbs are supple and free; a gamekeeper -hardly knows the meaning of stiffness. But you may notice now that he -straddles mightily over the gate which of old he vaulted with the glide -of the fallow bucks in the park. And if you were with him when, at the -end of a long day, he goes home to his tea, by chance you might hear -the remark made to his good-wife, "Well, mother, I bain't sorry to sit -down." - -He looks his best in autumn; and he feels his best. He is ready for the -test of his labours. He has had worries enough; the rearing season has -been a "shocking bad one," and he has had many late nights, watching -his birds. Perhaps he has had toothache; that is not unknown to -keepers. Often he has been soaked by rain, and more often by the dews -of night and morning. But he has lived all the year in the open and in -the country, and there is the secret of his youth. - - * * * * * - - -Rabbit Ways in Autumn - -In the cool autumn days rabbits grow in attraction to the poacher. -They now have a habit of lying within their burrows by day, after the -worryings, buffetings, and evictions of harvest-time, waiting for -things to quieten down--until the sounds of binder and harvester are -no more heard across the stubbles. Two people know this--the keeper -and the poacher. Often it is a race as to who shall be first to take -tribute from out-lying dells, with ferret and nets. - -The ferreting season proper now sets in in earnest, and at first the -rabbits bolt freely, rumbling and rushing along their subterranean -passages, and with blind force launching themselves into the nets. A -single ferret put into a burrow may send out a dozen rabbits in quick -succession; or nothing may happen when the ferrets disappear, hours -of digging follow, and then a bunch of ferrets and rabbits crowded -together are at last revealed. In autumn days there is exciting sport -with the gun at the expense of rabbits if open burrows can be found, or -burrows in dells where the bare-stemmed elder is the only undergrowth. - - * * * * * - - -The Rabbits' House-cleaning - -In late autumn rabbits are very busy about their burrows, making them -fit for winter habitation. Through the summer, while many of the -rabbits have been lying out, the burrows have looked deserted and -untidy. Warned by the chilly nights that a subterranean refuge will -soon be useful, the rabbits do up their premises, enlarging them, -clearing away the remains of old nests, and of relatives that have died -underground, and making fresh chambers where they may lie snug and warm -in place of those dug out during last season's ferreting operations. -Judging by the amount of soil excavated in a single night, rabbits at -this season seem to rival ants in energy--one might think there had -been a wholesale invasion of new-comers. At work, they kick the soil -sideways, forming a furrow perhaps six or ten feet in length. Few -have watched them while engaged in this toil, usually undertaken at -night-time; but we have seen them at work once or twice by day, and -once caught a rabbit by the leg--so intent was he on his digging--while -he was in the act of kicking the soil aside. - - * * * * * - - -The Guileless Countryman - -The countryman is not always the guileless simpleton that he sometimes -looks; nor, as we can show, is the Cockney sportsman. A holiday-making -Londoner was shooting one day in a field beyond the cottage of a -labourer, who came out to watch the sport. Suddenly a cry broke from -him: he leaped into the air; then bellowed to the sportsman, waving a -red handkerchief in signal. Up to the cottage rushed the sportsman, -thinking that at the least the countryman had been stung by a hornet -or bitten by a mad dog. "Look what ye've bin an' done," said the -countryman, advancing. "'Tis a wonder I be alive; look what ye've bin -an' done; look at my door, and look at these here shots." Saying which, -he pointed to his newly painted door (the sportsman saw it was pitted -with such holes as a rusty nail might make). He held out his hand and -showed a good two ounces of shot (the sportsman saw they had never -been fired from a gun). "These here shots," said the countryman, "they -buzzed about me like a swarm of bees: 'tis a wonder I be alive." The -sportsman agreed in the marvel of the escape, adding to its wonder by -pointing out that his shot had been fired at a distance of five hundred -yards from the cottage--and in the opposite direction. "Allow me," he -said, "to buy back these wonderful pellets at a fair market price"--and -he handed the countryman twopence. - - * * * * * - - -Sporting Policemen - -In rural villages, keen sportsmen are often found beneath the uniforms -of the policeman and the postman. No one knows better than the keeper -how useful it is to be on friendly terms with the policeman--and no one -knows better how to manage it. Often policeman and postman may be found -doing duty as beaters, especially during September partridge shooting, -when the harvest is late and out-of-work labourers are few. If you -see through his disguise of plain clothes, the policeman will remark -how he just thought he would have a walk for an hour or two, just to -oblige Mr. Keeper. Upholding the law and delivering the post mean much -walking: and country policemen and postmen, when passing along the -roads early and late, find the haunt of many a fine covey. Being good -sportsmen, they take note of the customary line of flight; and if you -own some of the land of the covey's haunting they can tell you almost -to a minute when the birds leave the turnips beyond the boundary for -your stubble. - -If a policeman is on duty during the early days of partridge shooting, -he will manage to fall in with shooting parties; then he makes it -known that he heard shots, and was impelled to take a look round, "to -see that there weren't nothing wrong." The policeman's favourite time -for making known his presence is soon after the bagging of a good, -broad-backed hare. Even policemen become spoiled with favours. On a -sportsman telling his keeper to give a hare to a polite and zealous -officer of the law, "Excuse me, sir," said he, "but the party over the -hedge have just given me a hare, so might I have a brace of birds? -Thank ye kindly, I'm sure; a hare will do nicely next time, sir." The -sporting policeman can do much to help the luckless sportsman. - - * * * * * - - -The Woodcraft of Gipsies - -Gipsies and gamekeepers have enough in common to make them deadly foes. -They share an intimate knowledge of the ways of wild creatures. They -are skilled trackers and crafty trappers. They are hedgerow men; born -to the hedgerow, trained to know the meaning of every hole, and hollow, -and run. Their eyes read the story of the hedge as the scholar's the -printed page; hedge-lore is their second nature, and it is as though an -instinct tells them where the partridge has built, where the hedgehog -has buried himself, or where the rabbits are crouching. In their -knowledge of the ways of rabbits and hares keepers and gipsies stand -alone; and it often happens that all the knowledge and craft of the one -class is pitted against the cunning and knowledge of the other. Between -keepers and gipsies it is always war. - -The keeper detests nothing more than a gipsies' camp. His eyes take no -more pleasure in their red rags spread on the bushes than might the -eyes of a bull. A gipsy camp means to the keeper so much dirt, so much -thieving, so many lies, so much the more trouble, and so many the fewer -rabbits in his preserves. The gipsies' cauldron, steaming at dusk over -a fragrant fire of wood, brings only the bitter knowledge that some -of the birds or beasts he is paid to preserve are stewing in the pot. -Speak to him of gipsies, and scorn flashes in his eyes, anger flushes -on his face. "They be always a-shirking about wi' a dog or two, perkin' -into everything," an old keeper once said to us. "They can't let -nothing bide." - -A gipsy brought to trial for larceny made oath that his law allowed -him to take as much from others every day as sufficed for his -maintenance. That was more than three hundred years ago; and gipsies -still faithfully believe in and take advantage of that law. In our -experience, we have known one gipsy who was honest; he was famous for -his honesty. His blameless character was so much appreciated that he -was allowed to pitch his tent in an old ox-drove, where it ran past -a sheltering wood. Within the wood the keeper had buried four-dozen -traps; and it chanced that the leaves drifted over his traps, so that -when he came to find them he hunted the ground in vain. One day the -gipsy's boy came to the keeper's cottage. He said that while picking -wood for his father's fire he had trodden on something hard, which -turned out to be a heap of traps, and that his father, thinking they -must belong to the keeper, had sent him to tell the story. Where is -another gipsy in England who would throw away such a chance? - - * * * * * - - -Gipsy Lies - -Gipsies are certainly good sportsmen, after their own fashion. But one -seldom hears of a gipsy shooting with a gun; the gun speaks too loudly. -The gipsy makes sport with dogs, ferrets, and nets. He takes no open -risks; he holds it to be a disgraceful thing to be caught red-handed. -And if caught he never makes confession. No matter how red his hands, -there is always an excuse. His horse is found feeding, perhaps, on the -farmer's crops. Then the horse must have broken loose unbeknown. Or his -dog crosses the road, leveret in mouth. Then, "He picked un up dead, -killed by a stoat what I seed a-sniffin' about." His dog has snapped -up a sitting partridge. "It must be one as they beggarin' foxes 'ave -killed." Or the gipsy himself, hunting a rabbit in a hedge, is taken -in the act of knocking over the rabbit with his stick. All was done in -mistake for a rat. The keeper remarks that he has lost a fine clutch -of eggs--olive-brown eggs: he hints that the gipsy knows something -about it. Innocently comes the question: "They sart o' eggs be pison, -bain't they?" If caught with nets and ferrets on a rabbit burrow, a -fine tale he has to tell of poachers who ran away at his approach, -leaving all their tackle. - -A keeper, who had strict orders to allow no gipsies to stop on his -ground, one day came across a strong swarm, and saw clearly that they -intended to stay the night. But in reply to his marching orders, they -pleaded that they wished to stay only long enough to make some tea; -they promised they would be gone by the time the keeper returned, in a -couple of hours. So he went away, but went no farther than behind the -nearest hedge: whence he heard himself described in a picturesque and -blood-curdling fashion, and heard the declaration also that the gipsies -had no intention of budging an inch for such a blue-livered, red-nosed -piece of pulp as he. Thereupon the keeper took a run and a jump, and -landed his eighteen stone self and his leaded stick in the gipsies' -midst, sending their pots and pans far-flying. The gipsies snatched -burning sticks from the fire, and a desperate fight began, but they -soon had enough of that eighteen stone of angry keeper. - - * * * * * - - -Long-netters - -In autumn, rabbits receive special attention from the long-net -poachers. On a night not too dark or windy, yet windy and dark enough, -the long-netters find all omens propitious. To begin with, the rabbits -are now in prime condition. Then there is no fear of a hard frost to -make the fixing of net-pegs a difficulty, or to allow the sound of -footfalls to be carried far through the silence of night. And rabbits -are plentiful; as yet their ranks have been thinned by no serious -covert shooting. To crown all, the market is ready and expectant, -for the chance of a sale of stolen rabbits has not been spoilt by -the large surplus bags of genuine sportsmen. A warm night best suits -the poachers' object, with the wind blowing towards the side of the -selected wood--enough wind to prevent a panic among the rabbits through -sound or scent of danger while the gear is fixed, yet not enough to -deter them from turning out in goodly numbers, and journeying some -distance from the wood to feed. The nets are set up all along the side -of the wood, then poachers with dogs or drag-lines make a circuit and -drive the feeding rabbits home, and to their doom. - - * * * * * - - -Training Rabbits - -Keepers have found it more or less possible to train rabbits to a -mode of life which shall baffle the long-net poachers. By giving them -regular courses of driving-in at night they will take to feeding -chiefly by day, and will grow very suspicious of the sound of a -footfall after dark. Where there are not enough rabbits to justify -special precautions and continual watching, long-netting may be made -difficult by turning cattle at night into the grass fields bordering -the woods. Not only will the cattle be sure to take an inquisitive -interest in the long-netting, but they will have something to say to -the dogs used for driving in, and will quite upset their work. In one -place some poachers were baffled after a curious fashion. A local gang -had set up some seven hundred yards of new netting, worth about ten -guineas, and had gone off to round up the rabbits, when another gang -from a distant part of the county arrived on the scene. The curses they -heaped on their luck soon gave way to blessings--at any rate, they -were quick to see the chance of poaching something more valuable than -rabbits. They rolled up the new nets and fled. Then the men of the -first gang returned in the wake of the rabbits, which had found nothing -to impede their rush to cover. Curses were deeper and stronger than -those breathed before. The men decided in the end to put their case and -themselves unreservedly into the hands of the police, who telephoned -to the nearest railway station, and captured the poachers with their -poaching brethren's gear and their own rolled up in blankets. - - * * * * * - - -Why Birds Flock - -Why birds and beasts flock, no doubt, is for mutual protection from -natural foes. One has heard of swallows nesting on a cliff beneath an -eagle's eyrie, yet having nothing to fear from the eagle's attack -because of their combination; and every one knows how a party of small -birds will defy a hawk, or will mob and rout a cuckoo or a day-flying -owl. Possibly the reason for the great congregation of sparrows in -one chosen tree in a London square is mutual protection from cats. -Food is a most important factor in flocking; the keeper knows that the -scarcer the food of partridges the greater is their tendency to pack. -Birds may pack at night for mutual warmth--as when titmice snuggle on -branches, and wrens, to the number of ten or twenty, crowd a hole in -the thatch. Partridges gain something in warmth in snowy weather by -their habit of jugging at night--a good covey on a yard of ground. -But examination of the spot where they have passed the night shows -that the main pack has been divided into comparatively small parties, -in the same way as there were small parties among the great herds of -buffalo that travelled as one column across the plains of America. -Sheltered hollows are naturally chosen for jugging, where the keen edge -of the wind passes over the birds' heads. There is not always safety -or benefit in numbers; a flock may attract foes where individuals -would pass unnoticed, or may make short work of food which would keep -an individual for many days. With insects, great congregations may be -harmful, if an advantage to their bird enemies. Presumably, flocking is -a matter of general convenience. - -During the first fortnight of October little parties of fieldfares -from Scandinavia drift over the fields, chuckling in their throaty -way, redwings are seen, our wood-pigeons are reinforced by countless -thousands from overseas, snipe come in, woodcock will soon be -here, parties of goldcrests, newly arrived, cry their sharp notes -among the larches, and the winter flocks of tits, with goldcrests, -tree-creepers, and nuthatches busily move in the woods. Everywhere -birds are in flocks. Chaffinches, greenfinches, and sparrows move in -vast congregations, plovers circle in clouds above the fallows, flocks -of rooks unite in the evening and thousands upon thousands of starlings -rise, fall, and circle in perfect unison, filling the air with the -rushing noise of wings. - - * * * * * - - -The Companies of Rats - -Many animals snuggle together for warmth in bitter weather--as the -squirrels and the rats. Those who go ratting in hedges and dells in the -winter know they may try a dozen freshly used burrows without finding -a rat--when suddenly from a single hole the rats will come pouring out -in a stream of fur. Twenty or more rats will lie together in one hole. -They are clever enough to block up a hole on the windward side to keep -out the draught--so that a rat-hole newly stopped with soil, turnip -leaves, or grass, is almost certain indication that rats are within. -They store food for winter, and the keeper may find it more difficult -to secure his potatoes from frost than from the attack of the most -numerous of his furred foes. - - * * * * * - - -The Fall - -With the fall of the leaf we find the things we sought diligently in -the summer in vain. Within a foot of the path we trod almost daily, we -see, for the first time, where a pheasant brought off her brood; in -the fork of a slender birch-pole is that jay's nest for which we long -hunted--appearing now as a thick, deep wood-pigeon's nest; and where -the bracken has died down are the whitening bones of a rabbit which, -though his death-place was marked by the keeper's eyes, was not to be -found. A single leaf of June may hide a bird's secret from prying eyes. -By noting the things seen in the fall of the leaf we learn best how to -find summer's treasuries. - - * * * * * - - -Late and Early Autumns - -A man of grumbles, equal to the farmers, yet the gamekeeper is -prepared to admit that a late autumn brings him one blessing. The -leaves so screen his roosting pheasants that there is little fear -of night-shooting in his coverts. Accordingly, he sleeps peacefully -during many hours which he would have to devote to watching in a wet -early season. Deep in his heart, all the same, he has a certain liking -for the hours passed in watching over his birds at night. They bring -him rheumatism; but also an excitement that adds much to the savour -of existence. Not to know from moment to moment when his head may be -smashed in is a stimulating change from dealing with small game whose -worst powers of resistance are limited to a dig from the spurs of a -winged cock, or a scratch from the claws of a netted rabbit. - - * * * * * - - -Hares in the Garden - -As winter sets in, hares and rabbits are tempted to pay casual -nocturnal visits to the garden. To fence the garden securely may be -inconvenient--and unless the work is done thoroughly, not forgetting -the bottoms of gates, it is almost useless. And possibly only a few -plants are in danger, such as carnations or parsley, the special garden -favourites of hares and rabbits. So the simplest plan may be to wire in -the few plants or flower-beds that are threatened. Or a string may be -fixed at about eight inches off the ground, after being saturated with -one of the fluids used for tainting rabbits from their burrows. This is -useful when isolated carnations are dotted about in herbaceous borders, -or when there are several rows of Brussels sprouts in different parts -of the garden; hares are very fond of Brussels sprouts. - -A mysterious affair occurred in a garden, which a gamekeeper was called -in to investigate. It appeared that the inhabitants of the house had -been awakened in the night by a din as if the roof of a tin church had -fallen off, a din proved to be associated with a piece of corrugated -iron in the garden, used as a stand for pots and pans. The mystery to -be explained was what had upset the stand and the pots. A tuft of the -fur of a hare on the tin gave the clue, with a nibbled patch of parsley -a few yards away. It was determined that a cat had come suddenly round -a corner on a hare enjoying an unlawful feast, and that the hare in -her fear had dashed headlong into the corrugated iron, thus raising -pandemonium; one effect was the hare came no more to that garden. - - * * * * * - - -Food for Pheasants - -The cost of feeding pheasants is a question of some interest at this -season--to those who must foot the bill. The keeper is commonly blamed -for running up too big a bill; a happy medium between his maximum -and his employer's minimum is probably the correct amount of money -required for food. The object of supplying corn to pheasants is not -always understood. It is less to feed the pheasants--for they can -usually exist on natural food, if not very thick on the ground--than -to keep them from straying, by giving them a pleasing and profitable -employment. That keeper makes a mistake and is extravagant who strews -maize on a clean-swept ride. His pheasants in a few minutes will -swallow a cropful and will be free during the rest of the day to seek -and find mischief. They explore foreign woods, and if they like them, -stay away from home. But they may be kept where they should be if -pleasantly engaged in feeding. Straw-corn--such as rough rakings and -damaged sheaves from the tops of ricks which are being threshed--not -only serves to feed pheasants, but forces them to spend the greater -part of their time, which otherwise would be spare time, in searching -for each mouthful. One plan is to tie bundles of straw-corn round the -trunks of trees so that the pheasants must jump to peck the ears. The -empty straw is piled up again and again for the birds to scratch down; -it is only necessary to throw in a little loose grain. Such a miniature -stack will amuse the birds for hours at a time, and helps to keep them -at home. - - * * * * * - - -The Lingering Leaves - -Leaves may still cling to the newest growths of underwood long after -the older underwood is gaunt and bare. The sap, perhaps, is fresher -and more vigorous in the younger wood--prolonging the period of -ripening--and the new buds have not pushed out far enough to dislodge -the leaves. In coppices that have been thinned one sees how unusually -big, and how strong and enduring, are the leaves on the shoots of -tree-stumps--as though the whole energy of what was once a tree is -concentrated in the few shoots and leaves. Where hedges are clipped, -dead leaves remain in place far into the winter, possibly because, -owing to injury, the growth is retarded of those layers of cork which -form to assist the buds in dislodging the worn-out leaves. On the -sides of rides trimmed annually the leaves form quite a screen in late -autumn--to which one sportsman put down his many misses at rabbits, -and ordered his keepers to walk along every ride and pick off all the -leaves that remained. The shoots of underwood that has been cut always -grow more luxuriantly in a hot, dry summer than in a rainy one; every -copse-worker will tell you this is the case, though we have not come -across one who could solve the riddle. - - * * * * * - - -Planning Big Shoots - -In early November many keepers are putting the perfecting-touches to -plans that have been maturing all through the year. From the second -day of February the keeper whose work is not merely work, but the -most absorbing interest the world has to offer, has been weighing -continuously a thousand details--studying each in its relation to -others--scheming to arrange all so that in combination they shall bring -the best possible results when the big days of the shooting season come -to pass. Few shooting men realise the immense importance of apparently -trivial details. Let a single one--such as the exact placing of a -"stop"--be forgotten or disregarded, and the whole of a day's sport by -modern methods may be ruined. Many good beats, many good days, have -been brought to naught by a sportsman coolly and without permission -despatching an important "stop" on an errand. And afterwards he will -protest in all good faith that he commandeered the "stop" only because -he seemed to be standing idly at a corner, as if waiting for something -to do. - - * * * * * - - -Plots and Counter-Plots - -On the shoulders of the head keeper falls the responsibility of all -the mistakes that mar a day's sport. His position is unfortunate, for -though he may perfect every arrangement, the success of the day must -depend on good shooting and the perfect carrying out of orders. His -plans must be set in motion amid every kind of distraction--a general -in command on a battlefield is not more harassed by questions, plots, -and counter-plots than the commander of a shoot. Guns are no sooner -told where to go than they inquire the way--one is asking querulously -where he will find his cartridges, another is sure his position is -hopeless, while the beaters require constant attention, for if they -are left alone to move on to the next beat they will lose themselves -as a matter of course. In partridge-driving the keeper's nerves are -stretched to breaking-point. Half a drive is finished, and not a bird -has shown itself; the suspense grows almost unendurable before the -swirling clouds of birds at last suddenly rise, and go on beautifully -in twos and tens and twenties--in a stream that no man can count. -The great art is to give even shooting through the day, and to -distribute sport evenly among the guns, without favouritism--unless, -indeed, orders are that the cream of the sport must pass the way of -an important personage. If a keeper, for reasons of his own, should -wish the bulk of the game to go to one quarter, he can manage this -by retarding one end of the line of beaters, or by ordering certain -beaters to tap with their staves more vigorously than the others--and -by this stratagem his partiality is hidden completely from the -sportsmen. - - * * * * * - - -Indian Summer - -A late spell of midsummer heat makes it seem as though summer indeed -has lingered in the woods. With the oak-trees still heavily canopied -with green leaves, the season of pheasant-shooting seems an anomaly. -A varied bunch of wild flowers may be picked, many belonging to June -rather than to the months of nuts and berries. Primroses bloom freely. -Flowers are to be found everywhere, and cottage gardens are ablaze -with Michaelmas and tall yellow daisies and dahlias; the coming of -the first keen frost will mean a floral massacre. On hedges laden -with blackberries and the red bryony berries there are sprays of -honeysuckle, and there are many bright blooms of scabious, knapweed, -corn-poppy, daisy, harebell, violet, and scarlet pimpernel. Even some -of the old cock pheasants seem to imagine that April has come, judging -by their spring-like crowing, and some of the hens nest who should -have done with nests by the end of July. One very late nest we saw with -eleven eggs, on which the hen was only beginning to sit, as shown by a -broken egg. She had been cut out by the mowing of seed-clover heads, -but returned to her mistaken duties, and was sitting on the evening of -September 30. - - * * * * * - - -Winter Sleep - -On a perfect summer-like day of autumn, it is strange to think that -hedgehogs are going to their winter quarters, and that sleep is -overtaking so many creatures--bats that hang amid the dark rafters of -the barn roofs; toads in the mud of the ponds; field-mice, water-voles, -lizards, badgers, squirrels, hedgehogs curled in the ditches, snugly -rolled up in a great ball of dry grass and leaves; and the dormouse, -"seven sleeper," as it is called locally, or "dorymouse," "sleeper," or -"sleeping-mouse." Much country weather-lore, in all parts of the world, -is based on the storing of nuts by squirrels, the building of winter -houses by musk-rats, the early or late cutting of winter supplies of -wood by beavers, the working of moles, who are supposed before winter -comes to prepare basins for the storage of worms, and the laying up -of food on the part of bears. "The hedgehog," said the writer of -"Husbandman's Practice," "commonly hath two holes or vents in his den -or cave, the one toward the south and the other toward the north, and -look which of them he stops; thence will come great storms and winds -follow." The badger in his winter retreat certainly will block up holes -from which draughts blow. - - * * * * * - - -A Dish of Hedgehog - -Though hibernating hedgehogs will remain above ground all the winter, -in the hollows where leaves to cover them have accumulated, most retire -to the rabbit-burrows. They are seldom found when ferreting operations -are going forward, because the ferrets do not care to have dealings -with them--though when hedgehogs are skinned or opened, ferrets -relish their flesh as food. Keepers do not care to carry hedgehogs -home, on account of the many unpleasant things that they distribute -between himself and his ferrets. It is true that gipsies and others -eat hedgehogs, and this is the time when they are in season for those -who appreciate them, being at their fattest, as are all creatures -about to retire for the winter. Gipsies caught trespassing at this -time of year are always ready with the excuse that they are searching -merely for hedgehogs--even if dogs and nets and ferrets happen to be -in their possession. That they prefer hedgehog to rabbit is a tale -for a grandmother. Yet they know well how to make a tasty dish of -hedgehog. They burn off the bristles, split the prickly beast down -his back, and broil him on a forked stick over a fire of wood. That -is the quickest and cleanest way of cooking out of doors; and, for -those who appreciate things grilled, the best. But for those whose -taste is toward cooking with all the natural juices conserved, the -elephant's-foot process is recommended. Take not merely your hedgehog's -feet, but his whole body, "prickliwigs" and all, and encase in a jacket -of clay, and bury in hot ashes. Before serving, peel off the clay and -the prickles at the same time. Of hedgehog also may be made a stew of -savoury brown. So that the stew's beginning may be in keeping with the -traditions of the immortal cooks, take an onion stuck with cloves, -then, having browned your neatly jointed hedgehog in a frying-pan, -by means of a few ounces of butter (together with the clove-stuck -onion), immerse it in good stock, to which add a few chopped truffles, -and any other such appetising things you can lay hands on--a glass -or so of champagne or other good white wine will not be amiss, while -a squeeze of lemon-juice is held to effect a decided improvement. By -simmering, reduce the liquid contents of the cooking-pan by one-half: -and serve hot, garnished with little sippets of toast. Should you tire -of hedgehog cooked in these ways, any of the numerous rabbit recipes -may be applied. It is to be presumed that most people would soon have -enough of the hedgehog dishes. - - - - -WINTER - - -Rustic Wit - -Countrymen often display a dry humour all their own. At a shooting -party we fell in with a beater, into whose charge one of the guns had -given a well-filled cartridge-bag. Every now and again we noticed that -the beater thrust his hand into the bag, and regarded the cartridges -which he pulled out with a puzzled look. We inquired the reason, and it -transpired that some of the cartridges were loaded with No. 5 shot, and -some with No. 5-1/2, and that the beater had been asked to sort them by -their owner, a gun of indifferent merits. He said, in continuation of -his story: "He did tell I he can't get on nohow wi' sich mixed tackle. -_I_ reckon if there weren't no shots in 'em at all 'twouldn't make -ne'er a marsel o' difference." - - * * * * * - - -The Oak City - -Every oak-tree teems with life. Of insects alone five hundred species -look mainly to the oak for support. When the tree grows to the age -of fruitfulness--when sixty or seventy years have passed over its -head--then its population is increased tenfold. Here is a reason for -the incredible supplies of fruit--the great majority of the acorns -go to support the pensioners, and thousands must be sown if one is to -have a chance to develop into a seedling. Squirrels come to feast and -hide the acorns as they hide nuts; the dormice come; human children -come with sacks for the sake of the pigs at home; pheasants feast on -the ground; rooks, more wary, amid the branches; hungry jays warn -hungry wood-pigeons when the keeper approaches. To the animals, birds, -and insects are added the parasite plants, fungi flourishing where a -broken branch rots, lichens covering the bark, on the topmost bough the -mistletoe. - - * * * * * - - -Acorns - -Were it not for the oaks there would be scanty winter faring and -feasting for many wild creatures. When acorns and hazel-nuts are -scarce, and full beech-masts are not plentiful, birds and beasts have -an unusually hard struggle to tide over the winter, even should it be -mild, as a paucity of nuts is supposed to foretell. Different creatures -like their nut food in different conditions and at different times. The -rooks in their greed pull the acorns from their cups where they grow, -others do not relish them in their fresh green state, and wait until -they are ripe and mellow. Pheasants, who are very partial to acorns in -autumn and winter, when more delicate faring is not available, prefer -to eat them just as they begin to sprout. Like corn and other seeds, -acorns when sprouting possess a peculiarly attractive sweetness. Some -of the trees seem to produce fruit of extra sweetness or extra fine -flavour--at least, the gamekeeper finds that his pheasants seem to -prefer to feed beneath certain trees. Perhaps it is that those trees -which are most sun-drenched produce the sweetest acorns, just as the -most exposed hazel-nuts on the topmost twigs are so much better than -the pale ones of the lowest branches. - -The keeper welcomes a generous supply of acorns--provided that the -trees which yield them grow in his woods, and not exclusively near -the boundary of his beat. Wood-pigeons, as soon as they have cleared -the beech-mast, their specially favoured food, will stuff their crops -with acorns to the bursting-point--and so grow fat. Acorns also form -an important item in the winter fare of rabbits and deer. It is true -that they draw rats to the coverts, and even when the last acorn has -gone it is not easy to clear the rats away completely. Whether or not -there are plentiful acorns, the keeper is much indebted to the oak for -food for pheasants, because they are so fond of the spangle-galls, to -be found in plenty on the backs of the leaves, that they prefer them -even to the maize which is freely scattered. All the galls of the oak, -whether oak-apples, or bullet, artichoke, spangle, or root galls, are -the outcome of eggs laid by the various gall-wasps, and the pheasants -know that within the spangle-galls are the grubs, feeding on the -galls' flesh. Left to themselves, the grubs will in due time reach the -chrysalis stage of existence, to be hatched in June as winged insects, -and to lay in turn the eggs which cause the pretty vermilion-spotted -galls. So the wheel of life turns again and would turn for ever if -unspoked by the pheasant's beak. - - * * * * * - - -Plump Rabbits - -In mid-November rabbits are at their fattest. Grass has been green, -sweet, lush, and growing; under the autumn sun, winter oats and wheat -have sprung inches high, and rabbits have been enjoying rare feasts. -The stoats, in turn, have found benefit in the autumn. It is on -full-grown rabbits that they now depend chiefly for food. No longer -can they feed on young birds; nor are small rabbits often to be met. -Rats show fight when attacked, and stoats prefer to tackle game without -power of resistance. Full-grown hares have too much staying power to -be hunted down, and they are too fond of making for the open fields to -be worth hunting. There are mice and field-voles, but the fat rabbits -of the woods are the most obvious of possible meals. No hunt is more -determined, ferocious, or relentless than when a stoat hounds a big -rabbit to its death. - - * * * * * - - -The Stoat's Hunting - -By scent alone the stoat runs down the rabbit chosen for its dinner. -No matter how devious the rabbit's course, or how many other rabbits -cross the trail, the one line of scent is followed to the end, and -sooner or later the death-scream of the rabbit is inevitable. We have -often seen the last act of the tragedy. One hunted rabbit made for the -shelter of young underwood, cleverly twisting amid the jungle of fern, -grass, and bramble, so that the leaping stoat could have been guided -only by scent; the rabbit seemed to understand that the hollowness of -the bottom of old wood offered few chances of dodging. At last the -rabbit grew exhausted; and, at a loss to know where to run to shake -off its pursuer, but a few yards behind, took to turning and twisting -with redoubled energy, now rounding a leafy stump, then dashing into a -clump of brambles, doubling, again rounding the stump, again flashing -through the brambles--then sitting up for a second, listening to hear -if the stoat were still following. The stoat, thus baulked again and -again, grew ever more furious. Coming up on the hot scent to the leafy -stump, round which the rabbit had slipped in the nick of time, it -would dash in so furiously as to make the brown leaves rattle off, -as a terrier leaps at a rabbit's seat from which the owner has just -fled. The burning scent throws the pursuer into a frenzy. But the -stoat, with a chatter of rage, lost little time in following on into -the bramble clump; and the sight of man near by was not enough to turn -it from its object. At last, in the brambles, it came upon the rabbit -dead-beat--charged in a blind fury, sank its teeth into the head, -worrying home the grip. Then, having disabled the rabbit, it retired -a yard or two and charged again, retiring and charging at intervals, -as if to gain fresh power for driving in the needle-sharp teeth.... At -such a moment the keeper feels more than ever justified in shooting a -stoat. - -Waiting for the end of such a rabbit hunt, for a moment we lost sight -of the chase; then felt certain we could hear the hoarse breathing -of the captured rabbit in a thick spot, on the opposite side of the -20-foot ride near where we were standing. Yet we felt certain that -neither stoat nor rabbit had crossed from our side. We waited, and sure -enough the stoat caught the rabbit almost at our feet, where we had -thought them to be. The mystery of the heavy breathing remained--the -sound was exactly that of a rabbit being mauled by a ferret within -a burrow. We crossed the ride, made search, and discovered a large -hedgehog curled up in its nest. While the bloodthirsty business had -been going forward six or seven yards away, the hedgehog had lain -snugly wrapped in winter sleep--actually snoring! - - * * * * * - - -Mysteries of Scent - -A stoat, if accidentally deprived of its power of scent, would soon -come to starvation. All animals depend on scent not only for their food -but for their protection, their power of recognition, and for nearly -all the interests of their lives. The scent given off varies with -occasion. In a state of rest it is modified. Thus a game-bird who has -been on its nest for some time is in less danger of discovery than one -that has just come to the nest, leaving a fresh trail. So the scent -given off by foxes varies with their own condition--as, of course, with -the weather. The greatest scent is left behind by the fox when he is -warm with running; the least is given off at the beginning of a run, or -at the end, when he is exhausted. The hunted fox well knows that his -life may depend on the strength or weakness of his scent--this is made -clear when he runs purposely through a herd of cattle or a flock of -sheep. - -Deluges of rain, burning sun, or extreme cold obliterate fox-scent, -but slight heat combined with moisture, as when the sun shines after a -warm shower, is in favour of a strong and enduring trail. But there is -little certainty in the matter; as Mr. Jorrocks truly said, "Nothing -so queer as scent 'cept a woman." On a promising day hounds may be at -fault when within a score of yards of a fox; but on a day so apparently -hopeless that few sportsmen trouble to attend a meet, as when a thin -crust of hard-frozen snow covers the ground, the scent may be red-hot. -One day may yield a perfect scent; on the next, apparently with the -same weather conditions, the scent is elusive, and the hounds no sooner -give tongue than they fall silent. Much depends on the nature of the -country, or of the substance on which the volatile scent particles -fall. Crossing the meadows, the hounds speak the line with certain -voice; but when they come to dry, crumbling fallow-fields, the chorus -dies away into a few doubtful whimpers. The time of the day has -its effect on scent; in midsummer the woods may have no perfume in -particular at midday, but are filled with sweet smells in the evening. -Every one knows how a warm autumnal shower brings out the savour of -dead leaves and the smell of earth. - -To the fox, as to the stoat, the sense of smelling is the most -important of all. With his nose the fox discovers nearly all his food. -If the sitting game-bird has flown to her nest, and herself gives off -the least perceptible scent, the fox easily finds her by that strong -scent given off by chipping eggs. By scent he picks up the young -leverets, after quartering the ground to gather the greatest advantage -of the wind. He scents young rabbits in the stop when a foot beneath -the surface of the earth, and when he starts digging them out he goes -directly to their nest. So a good ratting terrier will point through a -couple of feet of soil to the exact spot where a rat is lying. We have -sometimes thought that an invention to magnify scents would prove of -great benefit to the gamekeeper. But there might be fatal effects if a -keeper, scent-improver on nose, came suddenly on that mushroom of the -fetid odour commonly known as the Stinkhorn. - - * * * * * - - -The Axe in the Coverts - -One of the many thorns that pierce the keeper's side is driven home -at the time of the cutting of the underwood. Once in every span of -ten or twelve years this time must come. Now and again the felling of -part of a covert before shooting improves matters from a sportsman's -view--the beats are simplified, or are more easily commanded with the -regulation number of from five to nine guns. But the keeper knows to -his cost that more often than not cutting the underwood is ruination -to sport. Birds and rabbits are alarmed by the sound of the woodman's -chopping, and half the hares fly before the smoke of the greenwood -fires. Many complications arise through wood-cutting, as when the -shooting is in other than the landlord's hands. When he wishes to cut -certain portions of his woods, and the cutting may interfere seriously -with sport or the showing of game, unpleasantness must arise among all -parties--landlord, gamekeepers, shooting men, and copse-workers. Those -responsible for the shooting should find out as early as possible which -parts are to be cut, and arrange in good time with the landlord to make -it a condition of sale that no cutting takes place before a convenient -date. When several acres of underwood are felled, and the wood is left -lying in long rows called drifts, a good deal of inconvenience may -arise, unless the underwood is worked up as cut down. On shooting days -half the pheasants in the place may skulk in the drifts, whence it will -be impossible to dislodge them by ordinary beating methods of the most -energetic type. Besides, drifts provide a safe refuge for rabbits. They -increase incredibly, and in the following year they will be by far too -plentiful for the welfare of the young shoots that spring from the -shorn stumps. - - -The Uses of Underwood - -Thirty years ago the price of underwood as it stood growing, at twelve -years old, was about twenty pounds an acre; but to-day five pounds an -acre is considered a good price for first-class underwood, so hard has -the industry been hit by substitutes for ash and hazel. Though we have -known underwood to fetch only half a crown an acre, we have seldom seen -it described by auctioneers as other than "prime and ripe." The most -useful kind is hazel. All sorts of sticks and stakes for the garden -are cut of hazel. Wattle-fences are made of it, neatly woven, and the -"hethers" which bind the tops of live fences. Closely woven hazel -hurdles form a splendid protection for sheep from wind and rain; they -cost, to buy, about eight shillings a dozen, and the hurdler is paid -about half that sum. Hazel is now largely used in making the crates in -which the product of the Potteries is packed. The cleanest growths were -formerly made into the hoops of barrels, and one might see thousands -of bundles stacked in a clearing. But iron is killing the hoop-makers' -industry. One use of hazel has been unaffected by time--the use to -which the country blacksmith puts it, when he winds handles of the -shoots for his chisels and wedges--being pliant, they allow his tools -to adjust themselves to the blow of the hammer. And the hazel-wand -remains the favourite divining-rod of the water-finders. - - * * * * * - - -The Tipping System - -Gamekeepers are much associated with tipping. If tips are to be -reckoned as part wages, the element of chance is great and unfair. -There are cases when tipping amounts to bribery, as when a rich man -buys the best place in a shoot. For the system, it may be said that a -tip is the most convenient token of appreciation of skill in producing -good sport. And we agree that if any servant of pleasure deserves a -tip it is the gamekeeper. But among the fallacies of the system is -the fact that the scale of tips is seldom in proportion to skill and -energy. Thus, a tip of a certain amount is given for a day's covert -shooting of, say, under a hundred head, half pheasants, calling for -a certain amount of energy and skill on the keeper's part. But a -tip of only half the amount will be given after a thirty-brace day -at driven partridges, which has afforded five times the amount of -shooting, and called for ten times more skill and energy from the -keeper. There is a saying among keepers that tips may be looked upon -to provide three useful things--beer, 'baccy, and boots. In old times -a five-pound note was the order of the day--this is represented now -by half a sovereign or five shillings. A few keepers are lucky enough -to serve where wealthy sportsmen shoot regularly, who willingly give -the keeper a ten-pound note. But most keepers praise heaven for £10 -received in tips in a season. Where the scale of tips most fails -is when a tip covers compensation for injuries. But the beater who -received a note on account of a stray pellet in his person was more -than satisfied. "Bless you, sir," he said, "you may give me the other -barrel for another of 'em." But beaters always find contentment in a -tip, whatever its size. We recall how three beaters were more or less -bagged successively during a three days' covert shoot. One, at the -time, appeared to have had his right eye destroyed, but saw his way -to accept twenty-five shillings. Another buried a shot in his little -finger, and on receiving seven shillings was eager to undergo the same -treatment for six days a week. A third was peppered behind, and awarded -eighteen-pence, which satisfied him, being, as he lamented, "only a -boy, like." By the way, there seems no place in the sportsman's scale -of tips for awards for narrow escapes. We have known a keeper mention -the fact quite unavailingly that his cap had been shot from his head -by a careless gunner, who had brought down an easy bird with his first -barrel, then, swinging round, had blazed at a second bird just as it -topped the keeper's head. "Aw," he drawled, by way of answer, when the -keeper respectfully intimated that he had escaped death by a miracle, -"I certainly ought to have killed both of those birds." - - * * * * * - - -Free Suppers for the Fox - -How many foxes have owed their deaths indirectly to covert shooting? -It is a nice question for hunting men. The fox is one of the craftiest -creatures in the world. A very short experience is enough to make him -associate the particular squeal of a rabbit when caught in a snare with -a cheap supper. And he discovers quickly that luxurious banquets await -him after a day's covert shooting. The discovery has a certain result; -after covert shooting foxes gorge themselves, and become totally unfit -to stand before hounds. To keepers this is well known, of course; -and there are those who are not slow to take advantage of the fox's -gluttony. Suppose a keeper thinks that a fox or two the less would not -be amiss, and knows that on the morrow hounds are to be expected. There -is, suppose also, no covert shooting at the moment in his immediate -vicinity. Though unwilling to take more direct steps, he is fully -prepared to handicap foxes before hounds so far as he may, and in the -night before hounds come he provides free suppers for his foes. He is -hardly to be blamed, and if blamed by the hunt one keeper at least has -a ready answer. In view of a visit from so fine a pack, he says, he -wished to show that he had forgiven the doomed foxes their sins, by -spreading a final feast. - -There are keepers who, not making the best of necessity, harbour in -their breasts an undying grievance against foxes and take every chance -to malign the foe. After a beat, during which the guns had stood in -a hollow where pheasants had come at a good height, a sportsman was -collecting birds that had fallen behind him, and to his surprise found -a pheasant with its head apparently torn off. He suggested to the -keeper that there must be foxes in the wood--foxes near at hand, and -very bold. The keeper had reason to know better--but on picking up -another headless pheasant, remarked sadly, "If they treats 'em like -this 'ere when they be dead, it be cruel to think how they'd serve -'em when they ketched 'em alive." The sportsman was impressed by the -keeper's melancholy tone, and began to share his fox-enmity. But -the keeper's sharp eyes had seen what fate really had befallen the -pheasants' heads--a fate strange enough, for as the birds fell their -heads were torn off by the forks of ash-stems, in which they caught. - - * * * * * - - -Clues to the Thief - -By many signs keepers read the story of the presence and work of foxes. -A fox makes a half-hearted attempt to bury game that he has partly -eaten, and wishes otherwise to dispose of--and the buried game is so -impregnated with his scent that no other creature will touch it. He -barks at night in mid-winter days--and spreads uneasiness among sheep, -as betrayed by the bleating of ewes. He digs in a way all his own, -throwing out the soil behind him in a slovenly heap; he noses about -mole-heaps and ant-hills, and his visit is easily detected. On soft -spots he leaves his footmarks--and he always leaves his scent behind -him. Pheasants without tails tell a story of a young fox's spring that -failed to bring him a supper. Heads of rabbits, and nothing else, -in snares, rejected maws lying near by--the disinterment of poaching -cats which the keeper has buried--these show where hungry foxes have -passed. By day their presence is revealed if a cock pheasant cries a -sudden, uneasy, short alarm-note, by the screaming of jays, and by a -particular blackbird note, which, if it does not mean stoat or cat, -certainly bespeaks a fox. A crow may be seen suddenly swooping angrily -as he passes over a field--a fox lurks there. The hidden cause for the -continuous uneasy springing of partridges is often a fox, or at least a -cub amusing himself by partridge hunting. - - * * * * * - - -Muzzled by a Snare - -A fox does not grow very old without learning how to take advantage of -a snarer's catch. He learns to follow up runs and visit places where -the snarer has set his snares. And he often pays the penalty, his -feet falling foul of the noose. Hunting people commonly suppose that -traps--steel gins--are the chief cause of fox-maiming, yet not once in -a blue moon is a fox trapped. But if too clever to be caught in a trap, -he is not clever enough to keep his feet out of the brass wire of the -simple snare. We came across a curious instance showing how a fox may -suffer from a snare. Hounds found a fox which ran to ground almost at -once. Men were set to work to dig him out, and they found he was merely -skin and bone, and round his muzzle they found part of a brass snare. -The wire had fixed itself in such a way that he could scarcely open his -mouth, so that he was handicapped both in catching food and eating it. -From his appearance it was thought that he had been in this miserable -plight for a month. It had been better for the fox if hounds had found -him a month earlier. - - * * * * * - - -Cunning Rascals - -A fox, in emergency, will sham death to perfection. A Master of Hounds -once noosed a fox in a whip as he bolted before a terrier from an -earth. The fox appeared to have been strangled--when held up by the -scruff of the neck his eyes were seen to be closed, his jaws gaped, and -the body hung limply down from the hand. He was placed tenderly on the -ground--only to dash off into covert. To be over-cunning is a common -fault. One fox entered a fowl-house, and amused himself by killing -every bird. In departing through the hole by which he had entered, he -stuck fast, and was found hanging dead the next morning. Another sought -refuge from hounds by jumping on to the low roof of a thatched cottage, -and crawling beneath the rafters until he could crawl no farther. It -was years before his skeleton was discovered. Some of the foxes found -dead on railway lines, by the way, have been put there after death by -vulpicides. In olden days the punishment for the crime of fox-killing -was a spell in the stocks. Vulpicides remain, but the stocks--some -would say alas!--have gone from use for ever. - - * * * * * - - -A Hunting Argument - -The hunting man has a hundred reasons why hunting is a blessing to the -community. He argues that hunting circulates gold every year to the -tune of seven and a half million pounds--and that this is good for the -horse trade, the forage trade, for the blacksmith, the harness-maker, -and for an army of grooms. Then hunting tends to keep at their homes -in the country wealthy people, who might winter abroad if there were -no foxes to follow. This means that many large establishments are kept -open, servants are kept in food and wages, local tradesmen stand to -benefit. Further, it is claimed that there is little to be said against -hunting--we often hear how riders, horses, hounds, and foxes all enjoy -the sport; on this point, however, we have no direct evidence from -foxes. And it is claimed that the amount of damage done to agriculture -is infinitesimal--though farmers who have had hounds over young corn, -or seeds, or fine fields of turnips, might bring conflicting evidence -to bear on the point. Perhaps the favourite argument in favour of -hunting is that the sport is good for horse-breeding, and that the -hunting-field is the finest training school for cavalry. Gamekeepers -would be among the first to lament the abolition of fox-hunting, for -if it were not for the existence of foxes and their preservation for -the hounds, few keepers would be required to protect game. Nor would -there be those useful little sums to the keeper's credit on account of -litters, finds, and stopping. - - * * * * * - - -The Clever Terrier - -Nobody can persuade a gamekeeper that dogs lack reasoning powers. We -were watching a terrier at work, and she gave us a pretty example of -something very like intelligence. A pheasant was winged, fell on a bare -field, and ran for a thick dell--the terrier in pursuit. She made one -or two ineffectual attempts to gather the bird, until within a score -of yards of the dell--then she raced ahead. She seemed to realise -that there was so much cover in the dell that direct attempts to take -the bird were risky--and she proceeded to work the pheasant to a safe -distance from the cover before tackling it again, this time effectively. - -When this little terrier has marked a rabbit or a rat in a patch of -grass or brambles, her common sense tells her that if she dives in -after her quarry it may dash out unseen by her, by reason of the grass -or brambles. So she stands by, and stamps, and otherwise tries to make -her game bolt, in a way which will allow her to see the direction; and -she is seldom baffled. It is difficult to decide whether this terrier -is more or less reasonable than her kennel companion, a retriever, when -feeding-time comes. If at feeding-time the retriever has a biscuit -left over from the last meal, which she has lightly buried, on her -master's approach she will promptly disinter the treasure, holding it -out as much as to say: "Thank you, I need no biscuit." But experiments -with the terrier show that she will ever refuse to give the slightest -indication of a buried hoard. Whether she needs a biscuit or not, she -always takes one when offered, as though she desired nothing better in -the world. - -A good story in proof of a retriever's reasoning powers is told by an -old-time sportsman. He was shooting beside a frozen stream, and winged -a mallard, which fell in mid-stream. His dog crashed on to the ice, -broke through it, and fought her way to the middle, where the ice only -skimmed the water. She swam round for a moment, then broke her way to -the opposite bank, paused to give a knowing look at the thin ice, and -went down stream at full speed for about eighty yards. Running down the -bank, she broke a hole in the ice with her fore-paws, then crouched -back, watching the hole. In a few moments she made a spring and plunged -in, reappearing in mid-stream with the mallard in her mouth. There was -no doubt, at least in her master's mind, that she had broken the hole -for the purpose of catching the bird when he came up to breathe. - - * * * * * - - -Born Retrieving - -A keeper owned two retriever puppies who were given a curious start in -life. Their mother was shut up at home, while her master went to shoot -some rooks. She was the proud mother of five new-born puppies, but her -litter was not complete. A few rooks had been shot, and the keeper was -waiting for others to appear, when up ran the retriever carrying a rook -in her mouth; somehow she had managed to get out, and had followed -to see the sport. She was sent back to her puppies, and directly she -reached home two new puppies were born. They were born, as one might -say, retrieving. - - * * * * * - - -Some Sporting Types - -The most common type of gunner is the man who kills frequently, but -is not a good shot because he does not know how to take his birds. -He would double his bag if he would put every shot a foot farther -forward--that golden foot forward--if he would not fire when in the -act of turning (which must depress the gun's muzzle), and if he would -remember that driven birds on seeing a man rise immediately and -instinctively, even at right angles to their line of flight. The keeper -detests the man who continually sends him to pick up game which has -never fallen. For these knowing gentlemen, he is a wise keeper who -carries a special bird or two in his pocket, against the time when they -say, in their haughty way, "Aw, my man, kindly pick up my bird that -fell tha-ar!" - -The luckiest shot we ever met was a colonel who, one windy day, -happened to be stationed by himself on a road lined by telegraph-wires. -All the birds came his way, and with ten shots he killed one. -Startled by his volleys, a bunch of passing birds blundered into the -telegraph-wires which, more deadly than the gun, claimed nine victims. -The colonel was a study in modesty when he remarked a little later that -in ten shots he had been lucky enough to bag five brace. - - * * * * * - - -Victims of Wire - -Unfortunately the best stands for partridge-driving are often behind -hedges flanked by telegraph-wires. This is specially unfortunate when -the birds see the guns just before they pass beneath the wires. Up -they go, and a whole covey may be cut to pieces at the moment when -fingers were pulling triggers. Though a brace of birds fall dead at the -sportman's feet, evidently neatly taken in front, to the sportsman this -is not the same as a brace to his gun: he would prefer, indeed, a good -old-fashioned miss. - - * * * * * - - -Stoat or Weasel? - -Many country people who ought to know better are hazy on the -distinction between stoats and weasels. We can forgive the Cockney -uncertainty of this sort, as we forgive him for calling rooks, and even -starlings, crows. The countryman may well confuse crows and rooks; his -safest plan when in doubt about a big black bird is to name him rook, -for in most parts crows are now scarce to the point of extermination. -But those who live in the country have as little excuse for speaking of -stoats, when they should speak of weasels, as for mixing rabbits with -hares. It is easier to tell a weasel from a stoat than a rabbit from a -hare, if one is fairly close and has a clear view. A weasel is quite -a third of the size of a stoat and a third of the weight: the males -of both weasels and stoats are about twice the size of the females. -But the outstanding distinction between stoat and weasel is the long, -black-tufted tail of the stoat, and the short, unassuming tail of the -weasel--no more conspicuous than a mole's tail. - - * * * * * - - -"The Horrid Badger" - -We have come across many curious cases of ignorance on these points. -A countryman who had dwelt with stoats and weasels all his life, and -had killed hundreds by trap and gun, yet had no idea of the true -difference. Whichever he saw, or killed and hung up by a twisted twig, -he determined to be stoat or weasel according to its size. Then we -remember a lady who kept chickens, and suffered the loss of half a -brood. She called in a passing keeper to settle the question of the -thief. After waiting a while the keeper shot a weasel in the act of -returning for another chicken. The lady of the chickens was overjoyed -at this retribution, and presented the keeper with half a crown. Her -words in making the presentation have been treasured by the keeper: -"This," said she, "is for shooting the horrid badger." - - * * * * * - - -Chalk-Pit Haunts - -To the old chalk-pit, where the sun is trapped and the winds are -kept at bay, come all kinds of creatures for warmth and sanctuary. -However deserted the fields of winter seem to be--however silent and -sullen--signs of life are never wanting in the chalk-pits; they are -as inns to wayfarers who search the country for a living and lodging. -Creep silently, against the wind, to the chalk-pit's edge, and in -summer or winter, sunshine or shower, on a still day or a windy, you -will catch a glimpse of some wild creature, a visitor, or one of those -who have made their home in the pit for the sake of sustenance or -shelter. - - * * * * * - - -When the Fox sleeps - -The sparrow-hawk may be caught napping on some favourite perch, as on -a stunted tree, in a sheltered nook. The partridge covey may be seen -for a moment, as the birds revel in the powdery soil, roofed by an -overhanging ledge--seeing you, they go whizzing off amid a little cloud -of dust. In the dead herbage a wily old cock pheasant crouches, who -long since denied himself the luxuries and the dangers of social life -in the big woodlands: he crouches as he sees you, but not so quickly -that you may not note the sinking of his glossy neck. Two or three -rabbits scuttle off to the doors of their burrows. Through the bushes -a hare steals away. No chalk-pit is complete without a rabbit-burrow, -a blackbird, and a robin. If hounds came more often to the chalk-pits -they would save themselves many a blank hour. There is no peace for the -fox in the coverts, but the old chalk-pit is as quiet as a church. - - * * * * * - - -When Ferret meets Fox - -An exciting moment for rabbiters comes if a fox bolts from a burrow -when only a rabbit is expected--so exciting a moment that if there is -a man with a gun the fox is lucky to escape a shot--especially should -he have in his mouth the quivering body of a favourite ferret. And the -ferret is lucky to come alive from a hole if he meets the fox in the -only passage by which he can leave the burrow. But ferrets often escape -if the burrow is not a proper fox-earth, but has been used only as a -temporary shelter. Even if caught in the fox's jaws there may be hope -for the ferret; we heard of one who was none the worse for a long ride -between a fox's teeth. Like dogs and cats, foxes can be soft-mouthed -if they will. We have known a fox to deal so tenderly with a captured -rabbit that it ran about after the long jaws had released their hold; -and for some time it amused its captor as a mouse amuses a cat. A fox, -when he wishes, can carry an egg without breaking the shell. - - * * * * * - - -February Rabbits - -Towards the end of January rabbits begin to fall off in condition. As -food becomes less nourishing their reserve supplies of fat gradually -dwindle. But with the end of the game season the price on their heads -begins to rise: and the keeper who has hard work to meet the expenses -of a shoot looks to the rabbit-catch of February to swell the credit -side of his accounts. Most people know that a hen pheasant is more -tender and delicate to eat than a cock, though cock and hen may be of -the same age. So with rabbits--those who sell rabbits might well charge -a penny or two more for the does than for bucks. The countryman knows -that the tenderest rabbits are those that he may skin with the least -difficulty. - - * * * * * - - -The Moucher's Excuse - -While the gamekeeper is seldom at fault in the matter of a ready -excuse, he meets many people who are his superior in carrying -ever-ready lies on their lips. From poachers and mouchers, as the -haunters of hedge-sides are called, he might learn the lesson that -no excuse is better than a fine excuse that is shallow. One Sunday -morning a keeper, dressed in his go-to-meeting clothes--a useful -disguise--came sauntering silently down a road bounded by unkempt -hawthorn hedges. His trained ear caught the sound of a dog careering -past him on the field-side of the road: then he saw the dog's master, -who, on seeing him, set up a sudden and energetic whistling. Of this -the dog took no notice; with his nose well down, he rushed on to a -rabbit-burrow and began digging furiously. "These hedges are full of -rats," remarked the dog's master. "My dog killed five just now." Asked -what had happened to their bodies, Mr. Moucher replied calmly, "He -swallowed 'em whole." On the keeper suggesting that there was not much -chance of finding a rat in the rabbit's burrow, the moucher agreed, -called off his dog, and went his way. In the hedges there was no sign -of a rat, but a few rabbits managed to eke out an existence, though -heavily persecuted by gentlemen of the road. - - * * * * * - - -When Hounds come - -The opening of the hunting season proper brings a new anxiety to the -keeper. While it opens in early November, no date is recognised. The -keeper would like to see one fixed, and he would make it after his -coverts had been shot at least once. Many shooting men would also like -to see the idea established that hounds should not come to their woods -until after the first shoots, especially where there are many hares. -Often a landowner will refuse a master's request for permission to -come his way until he has done with his coverts. The keeper does not -so much object to the hounds merely passing through when in full cry, -for then the hounds run in a compact body, and pay no attention to -game. They only disturb a line about ten yards wide right through the -woods. What disturbs every game-bird and hare in the place is drawing -a covert, particularly when scent is bad and foxes are in evidence, -but not to be forced away. Unhappy the keeper who must throw open his -coverts at all seasons while other neighbouring coverts are closed. -The prohibition of one wood often leads to the closing of many more; -and hunt officials are well advised to break down, by every power -of persuasion, all restrictions which favour one or two keepers at -the expense of brother keepers. At any rate, we think it would be an -excellent idea that the keeper whose coverts are always open to hounds -should have double the reward paid for a find to the keeper whose -coverts are open only after Christmas. - - * * * * * - - -When Hounds are gone - -Those who shoot in the wake of hounds are no sportsmen. To state a -case in illustration of this: A sportsman has the shooting of a wood -bounded on one side by another's fields. In days gone by he was glad -to keep a fox for hounds, and gladly he would throw open his wood to -the hunt, in a reasonable way. In the cause of sport, he was content -that his pheasants and hares should be driven out of his wood into his -neighbour's fields and hedgerows. But when he found that his neighbour -was the sort of man to shoot in the wake of hounds, so that the evicted -creatures were given no fair chance to return to their home-wood, -but instead were shot in the afternoon following a morning visit of -hounds--he felt compelled to close his wood to the hunt, with the -natural sequence that he was soon compelled to bar the covert to foxes -also. No shooting days in the wake of hounds should be a golden rule -for all neighbourly neighbours. - - * * * * * - - -Poachers' Weapons - -Of poachers there are many types; and the worst are the organised bands -that hail chiefly from colliery and manufacturing districts. These -men are murderous ruffians, and the keeper who interferes with them -carries his life in his hand. Wives look anxiously indeed for their -husbands' return when such a band is about. The gangs chiefly practise -night shooting, and pheasants are their object. But they are as ready -to fire at a keeper as at pheasants. We were shown a single-barrelled -muzzle-loading gun which a keeper had taken from such a poacher, who -had shot a roosting pheasant under his very eyes. After the shot, the -keeper went up to the man, who pointed the gun straight at his head, -threatening to fire if he advanced another yard. But the keeper knew -his man--and his gun. He knew there had been no time for the ruffian -to reload. He knocked up the barrel, and caught his man, who in due -time was sentenced to nine months' imprisonment. Had his gun been -double-barrelled, it would have been another story, and a tragic one. -A favourite weapon, and a deadly, in these poachers' hands is a heavy -stone slung in a stocking. - - * * * * * - - -Moles' Skins for Furs - -For moles' skins the keeper has no sentiment. He will not part with his -skins of rare birds--but will willingly barter the prospect of wearing -a moles' skin waistcoat for the price of an ounce of shag a skin. By -catching moles he pleases the farmers, who know no more than he himself -about any good work that moles do: he frees his rides from unsightly -heaps and raised tunnellings; and now and then his mole-traps catch -a weasel. Many keepers make a fair sum of money each year by selling -moles' skins; furriers will as readily give twopence for a skin as -others threepence or sixpence. The skins, cut close round the head, -are drawn from the moles' bodies as a man draws stockings from his -legs; they are pegged out, fur downwards, on a board, to be dried and -powdered with alum, then are stuffed with meadow hay, and packed by -scores or hundreds. Perhaps no fur is quite so soft and beautiful as -the mole's; and the keeper is always well pleased to note how well the -pelts of his enemies become women-folk's faces. - - * * * * * - - -Covert-shooting Problems - -To shoot while there are still many leaves on the underwood and trees, -and while there is a full muster of pheasants, or to wait until there -are fewer leaves and fewer pheasants--that often is the question. For -there are many coverts in which pheasants will not stay after the fall -of the leaf. Then the shooting man who does not own the coverts to -which his birds will betake themselves must make the best of things, -and be content to bring down more leaves than pheasants, and often -nothing but leaves. What with the showering of leaves and the crashing -of shot-pruned boughs and dead wood, he may imagine that a pheasant -must be an extra heavy bird--only to find that not a feather has been -touched. To shoot pheasants among a crowd of leafy oaks is no simple -matter--it is more difficult than to shoot a rocketer in the open -valley. One thing may be said for this aggravating pastime; it teaches -the slow shooter to be quick. - - * * * * * - - -"Cocks only"--to compromise - -There are good reasons for shooting coverts for the first time before -the end of November, apart from the fear of a leakage of pheasants. -A sack of corn a day will quickly swell a bill to uncomfortable -proportions. Unshot coverts also mean that the whole time of keepers -and watchers is taken up, with a string of awkward consequences. Thus, -little can be done to thin the rabbits, for fear of disturbing the -other game in the coverts. Each night some of the hares go out, never -to return. Hunting must be curtailed in self-defence. Then again, -neighbours may be shooting, and it is very certain that what goes -into your neighbour's bag cannot go into yours. The best compromise -between shooting in woods still leafy and waiting for the sporting -Christmas pheasant to soar far above the tops of the bare trees, -is to shoot "cocks only" at the first covert shoots. This may be a -perplexing plan to those not accustomed to it--either they include a -good many hens, or they let off a good many cocks which they mistake -for hens. It is a plan to make the nervous man shoot his worst. And the -keeper, as a rule, will not be found to favour it, unless the guns are -discriminating and good, and appreciate sport more than bag. But sooner -or later the day of "cocks only" must come--why should it not come at -the beginning and be done with? - - * * * * * - - -What a Cat may kill - -A strange confession was made by a cat-lover concerning the cat of her -fireside. The confession was made publicly; in fact, in the columns -of an obscure local paper. It was to the effect that the cat had -brought in to her kittens, in one week, twenty-six field-mice, nineteen -rabbits, ten moles, seven young birds, and two squirrels--all of which -passed through her mistress's hands; there may have been others not -taken account of. It never seemed to enter the head of the cat's -mistress that any hurt was being done to other people's interests by -this poaching of rabbits, nor that any neighbouring gamekeeper might -read her words. It would be unfair to argue that all cats, with or -without kittens, are as bad as this one; we have heard of cats a great -deal worse. Naturally a mother cat forages far and wide for food; but -she hunts chiefly for small things, and knows that mice and birds -are more suitable for her weaning kittens than sitting partridges -and pheasants. It is that arch old villain, Sir Thomas, who commits -the crimes for which mother cats are blamed. But the keeper has no -hesitation in bringing home to all cats a reparation, sudden and -effective, for Sir Thomas's sins. - - * * * * * - - -A Cockney Story - -A gamekeeper friend told us, with infinite delight, this quaint little -story. If we are to believe him, he was sitting one fine September day -behind the hedge of a cornfield, thinking about the coveys hidden in -the corn, when he became aware that a lover and his lass were sitting -on the road side of the hedge, directly behind him. They were Cockneys, -and this was the first of their days of country holiday-making. -Presently the lover speaks. "Emma," says he, "just look at this pretty -fly wot's settled on me 'and." "Lor'!" says Emma, "ain't he a daisy?" -A pause follows; the lovers are silently contemplating the beauties -of the fly. Emma suggests he is out for an airing in his racing -colours--yellow and black. Then the lover calls out in a voice of -mingled amusement and pain. "Crikey!" he cries, "ain't 'is feet 'ot?" - - * * * * * - - -Hares in Small Holdings - -The hare that haunts a small holding has a slender chance of dying a -natural death in ripe old age. But we have a little story of how a -small-holder was converted from hare-shooting. He was a man who rented -a meadow on the outskirts of a large village; and it chanced that -hares were much attracted to this pleasant spot. The gamekeeper of -the shooting tenant was deeply troubled by the drain on his stock of -hares caused by the small-holder; but there was little he could do to -stop the slaughter that went on at all times and seasons, and by all -manner of means. He had the good sense to keep on friendly terms with -the troublesome sportsman, and at last he thought that some improvement -might be brought about by arranging a laugh at his expense. He stuffed -a hare, and one night set up the skin in the meadow, at a fair range -from a gap in the hedge. Early next morning the news reached the -small-holder that there was a hare in his field. Off he started with -gun and dog; saw from the gap that the hare was sitting up, "jest about -a pretty little shot," took steady aim, and fired both barrels to make -sure of a kill. How his dog retrieved a hare-skin stuffed with hay -was a story that soon became public property in the village and the -neighbourhood, and from that day forward there has been no safer place -for a hare than this man's meadow. - - * * * * * - - -The Sins of the Father - -The gamekeeper often picks up hints about poachers in unexpected ways. -His wife, as a rule, takes no great interest in the affairs of game; -yet every now and again she is able to tell her husband some news that -may be at once bad and good. It happened that the wife of a highly -respected gardener fell ill, and one afternoon the keeper's wife kindly -offered to take charge of her children. The eldest child, a boy of -about six, seemed to have little to say for himself; but, as the party -was walking silently along a lane, he suddenly said in a voice that -promised well to be a bass some day: "Our muver, she do make we some -good dinners." "Indeed," said the keeper's wife, "and what does she -give you for dinner?" The boy answered eagerly and proudly: "Bunny -rabbits, m'm." "Indeed," said the keeper's wife again, "and where does -mother get the bunny rabbits?" "Please, m'm, faither buys 'em off a man -as brings 'em." "Oh! in-_deed_!" said the keeper's wife, and it was not -long before one more receiver of stolen rabbits was brought to justice. - - * * * * * - - -The Pheasants' Roosting-Trees - -When the oaks shed their leaves night has a new danger for the roosting -pheasants. They become easy targets for the gun of the night shooter. -While the leaves remain the pheasants are well screened--and they -often owe their lives to their habit of roosting in oaks, where the -leaves give shelter long after beeches are bare. On a night of bright -moonshine beeches scarcely provide any cover for the bulky form of -a roosting pheasant. No doubt it is rather for comfort than through -cunning that pheasants choose a roosting-place in oaks. They show no -cunning in choosing their oak-tree, for they will roost night after -night on some low branch overhanging a road. They seem naturally to -prefer oaks to beeches for a lodging. Unlike most trees, oaks throw -out their branches horizontally, but beeches' branches tend to rise -vertically. Their bark is smooth and cold, but oak bark is rough, -easily gripped, and warm. - -When oaks have lost all their leaves the beeches provide the better -cover; for their vertical lines form some sort of screen. Even with -a full moon it is not always easy to see sleeping pheasants which go -to roost in the lower branches. It may be more difficult to see a -roosting pheasant than to shoot it--though the hardest shot a pheasant -can give is when it flies by night. Fir-trees in a pheasant covert -have a special value to the roosting birds. While unsuitable as -sleeping-places, for the birds cannot fly up through the thick twiggy -branches, nor can they see where they are going, the firs make the -more suitable roosting-trees warm and cosy, and against their dark -background it is difficult to see the pheasants, and to shoot them. The -poacher has no liking for sporting shots. - - * * * * * - - -The Fox in the Storm - -Wet weather is often a benefit to the fox. Like all accomplished night -thieves he is more venturesome in attacking hand-reared birds when the -wind howls and rain beats heavily down. The storm drowns what little -noise there may be from his stealthy feet; and the scent of the birds -is stronger by reason of their steaming bodies. In wet autumns foxes -take their heaviest toll of the young birds that have grown to a fair -size--the dripping trees incline the birds to sleep on the ground long -after they are able to fly, and should be flying nightly to roost. -Grave risks are run by birds that sit on their nests through wet June -nights. - - * * * * * - - -Foxes at Pheasant Shoots - -Foxes are sometimes found among pheasants where wire, or string -netting, has been set up at the flushing-places, to prevent the birds -running instead of flying, and to cause them to rise and fly at a -sporting height and pace. When it is too late, and the beaters have -come to the flushing-place, the indignant "cock-ups" of the pheasants -are heard, and then they rise in a great rush, too thick and fast for -the convenience of sport. We remember one case where a stampede of -pheasants so enraged a sportsman that he ordered his loader to bowl -over the old sinner of a fox. Should a fox show himself during the -beating of a wood, it would be wise to give him every chance to escape. -What usually happens is that the beaters force him forward with sticks -and curses, and the guns drive him back with cries of "Tally-ho!" - -But the fox's appearance is disconcerting; and there is a touch of -irony in the thought that a crafty old fox, who in his time has slain -more than his share of pheasants, should yet be in at the death of -those that escaped him. - - * * * * * - - -Pheasants that go to Ground - -The careful gamekeeper will stop all the rabbit-holes round about the -place where he hopes that many pheasants will fall--perhaps for fifty -yards before and behind the stands of the sportsmen. Many a pheasant is -lost through going to ground in a rabbit-burrow, and there is seldom a -spade and a grub-axe at hand. The pheasant may be winged or otherwise -wounded, and if it cannot be dug out may die a lingering death. But -many a crafty old cock has revealed his hiding-place because, while -he has taken the precaution of drawing his body into a burrow, he has -forgotten his tail. Only one partridge, in our experience, has run to -ground after being winged. - - * * * * * - - -Pheasants' Doomsday - -A wise pheasant would go abroad before the middle of November. He would -leave the fallen beech-mast for the pigeons, and turn a deaf ear to -the persuasive whistling of the maize-laden keeper. Since the issue of -his death-warrant on October 1, the pheasant has fared well--he has -never known the want of a hearty breakfast. But sooner or later comes a -morning when he must breakfast on the remnants of a last good supper. -If he wonders why, he never thinks he has been denied his food because -a big breakfast is not good to fly on, because a full crop will lessen -his value in the eyes of the game-dealer, and because it is intended -that he shall fly high, and give a sporting shot. So he is kept short, -like a pig whose time has come to be made into pork. But no doubt even -his short life has been worth the living. - - * * * * * - - -The Hungry Retriever - -We have a story of a retriever who was forced to forego breakfast -on the morning of a shoot. Retrievers, as they grow old, often grow -cunning, and we saw this one getting the better of his master in -a novel and drastic way. The old dog had grown fat, and somebody -complained that he was inclined to be lazy in his work. It was decided -that he had too much to eat, and it was to improve his activity during -a day's partridge driving that his master kept him without breakfast, -usually a heavy meal. There was a cold partridge that came within -range of the dog's nose--but his longings were not gratified. Out -in the fields the dog was sent for the first bird his master shot, -a runner. Away went the dog with unusual speed; he picked up the -bird, and then quietly sat down and made a meal of it. Having had his -breakfast, he did his work handsomely for the rest of the day. - - * * * * * - - -The Old Wood - -The first covert shoot has a peculiar charm for the -sportsman--especially when the shoot is in familiar woods. There has -grown a feeling of friendship for the old rides and trees, and they -seem to offer a warmer welcome every year. He comes to the historic -corner where he failed miserably to do justice to a rush of pheasants. -Here is the opening through which his first woodcock tried to glide--in -vain. He remembers, perhaps, that even now he has that woodcock's two -pen-feathers in the depths of some ancient purse. Here was where he -scored a double at partridges hurtling through the tree-tops--only -to be beaten a moment later by a hare, slowly cantering. Nothing has -changed in the woods. They wear the same old look of nakedness; save -for a hurrying pigeon, there is the same desolate lifelessness. Nothing -stirs, but the leaf fluttering to earth; all is dead quiet. Then in -the distance is heard the prelude of the beaters' sticks--tap, tap, -tapping. The sportsman dreams, musing of past days and their great -deeds. Then a lithe moving form catches his eye--a hare has slipped -out of sight. A shot rings out, echoes and re-echoes; another, and -doubles, and clusters of shots. The old wood is the old wood still. - - * * * * * - - -Memories of Muzzle-loaders - -Perhaps not many shooting men remember much about the old days of the -muzzle-loader, or could recall all the items of the paraphernalia -necessary for a fair day's sport. In spite of their drawbacks, -wonderful feats were performed by the old guns; and certainly there was -a truer ring about the word sport in the good old times. A fancy-dress -shooting party, with the sportsmen in the old-time shooting-suits, -armed with muzzle-loaders, would be entertaining--if dangerous. How -many members of the party would arrive on the scene of action with all -the appliances necessary for the firing of a fowling-piece--powder, -shot, wads, and caps? And who would know how to load his weapon, even -with powder, shot, wads, and caps at hand? The man who did not know -how to load would be in a bad way, for, of course, no valets could be -allowed on the scene, even supposing they might know more than their -masters. Short-tempered men would be exploding perpetually in wrath at -the delays caused by the process of loading, while birds were rising -and going away--we have heard powerful language addressed even to the -modern weapon when it has been responsible for a hitch in shooting. -It is shocking even to think of what a short-tempered man might say if -he flung away an open box full of copper caps in mistake for an empty -case, or if he applied his powder-flask to his lips and swallowed a -few drachms of treble strong black powder instead of a few drops of -sloe-gin. No doubt some of the party would suffer the misfortune of -upsetting their whole supply of shot for the day's sport. Then the -short-tempered man sooner or later would break his ramrod--others would -shoot ramrods, like arrows, into the air. At the end of the day there -would be headaches and black-and-blue shoulders. And what would be the -bag? - - * * * * * - - -Relics of the Great Days - -The old-time gunner went out in the morning with all manner of -contrivances and implements stowed about his person. He wore a -shot-belt for distributing the weight of his lead, he carried neat -little magazines, so that he might the more easily handle his copper -percussion-caps, and he wore a wallet of leather containing such tools -as a nipple-wrench and spare parts--the nipples in the gun might break -or blow out. The careful man carried a wad-punch, and in emergency -would punch wads for his muzzle-loader out of his felt hat or his -neighbour's--what could be a more neighbourly act than to sacrifice a -pair of leather gaiters in the cause of wads? A keeper friend treasures -many relics of the great days of the old squire--among them a curious -little mirror, the glass about the size of your little-finger nail, set -at the top of a tiny brass box, small enough to slip into the barrel of -a twenty-bore. The old squire would draw this mirror from his waistcoat -pocket before the first charge was poured into the muzzle of his gun, -dropping it glass upwards down each barrel in turn, so that he could -see by the reflected light if they were well cleaned and polished. - - * * * * * - - -Cleaning a Muzzle-loader - -The cleaning of a muzzle-loader was an immense undertaking. First, the -barrels were removed from the stocks, then bucketfuls of hot water were -forced through them; out would pour a stream of black, liquid filth, -having no respect for clothes or person, and smelling abominably. -Heated water was used because it cleaned away all the foulness of the -black powder, and quickly dried off. After washing, the barrels were -fixed in vices carefully padded to prevent injury, and then they were -given a hearty polishing inside with a tow-topped rod. Great attention -was paid to the locks, which were not so well protected from water -as they are to-day--they were removed every now and then, and taken -apart by means of a neat little clamp for holding the mainspring. In -those days people spoke of how many pounds of shot they had fired--not -of how many cartridges. The old-time bags were not to be despised. -One keeper, who has been in his present place for forty odd years, -told us that he can always remember his last day's shooting with -muzzle-loaders, because they bagged the same number of hares as -pheasants--218--to say nothing of 324 rabbits. They must have performed -some wonderful feats of loading as well as shooting. - - * * * * * - - -The Knowing Beater - -At covert shoots beaters often behave in unaccountable ways; but it -is not every day a beater is seen crawling about on hands and knees. -A guest at a covert shoot, surprised at such a sight, inquired about -the beater's object. "Beg pardon, sir; I thought as 'ow you was the -guv'ner," said the beater, rising. A further question as to why the -guv'ner should be met on all fours brought this answer: "Well, you see, -sir, 'tis this way like--the guv'ner, 'e don't allow no game to git up -'igh, not if 'e can anyways 'elp it. Not 'e, for 'e wops it into any -birds as rises 'ardly afore they be got on their wings like. So you -see, sir, soon as I thinks I be gittin' dangerous near 'im, I allus -reckons to be a bit careful." - - * * * * * - - -Old Friends - -The shepherd and the gamekeeper are men in sympathy, for one is -dependent to some extent on the other. In the eyes of the keeper, the -shepherd is one of the most important persons on a farm. And where -there is not a good understanding between the two men the keeper -will suffer loss in game, and the shepherd not only in sheep, but in -rabbits. With rabbits to spare, the keeper's first thought is of his -friend the shepherd. The shepherd is vigilant by night as well as by -day, and may watch the interests of game without detriment to his own -charge. And it is a pleasure to the keeper to run his eye over the fold -when he passes that way to see if all is well. He comes to the rescue -of many a sheep on its back that would have remained on its back until -dead without his timely aid; and he saves the shepherd many possible -disasters through the flock breaking from the fold, when the sheep -might come to destruction by over-feeding on green-stuffs. Through -the long nights of the lambing-time the keeper may give the shepherd -his company over pipes of fragrant shag, and pots of heart-cheering -ale--hands, hearts, and ale alike made warm by the little stove in the -shepherd's movable house on wheels. Look well at a shepherd's back, and -you are likely to see a keeper's old coat. - - * * * * * - - -What Shepherds enjoy - -Shepherds like their pot of beer--and some of them are wondrously fond -of a fight, and so may become useful allies to the keeper when poachers -are to be dealt with. We knew a shepherd who would always be especially -retained to help the keepers of an estate at times when pheasants were -liable to be shot at night. His appointment came about in this way: -the head keeper, during the absence of an assistant, had employed the -shepherd to watch, and had dosed him with half a gallon of beer to -keep the cold out before sending him off on duty. The beer and the -night air were not without effect; and when presently a human form came -stealthily along in the shadow of a moon-lit ride, the shepherd was in -grand fighting trim and spirit. He waited his chance, then sprang like -a lion on the intruder, gripped his throat, bore him to the earth, and -belaboured him in hearty fashion. He was about to tie him hand and foot -when he saw that he was tackling his own master from the mansion, who, -having been dining with a neighbour, had chosen to walk home by way of -his woods. So impressed was the master with the shepherd's valour on -behalf of his pheasants that he gave him a sovereign, and retained him -on the night staff at five shillings a night--_and_ half a gallon of -beer. - - * * * * * - - -Lives of Labour - -Like most country workers, shepherds and gamekeepers may go through a -long life of labour without ever taking a holiday, possibly without -thinking of one. We hear of eight-hour days for factory workers and -discussions of an ideal work-day of six or even of four hours; but -seldom a word is spoken for those country labourers, the length of -whose toil is limited only by daylight--when it is not carried on -as a matter of course into the night. Farm hands may work through -all the days of the year; for where there is stock to be fed work is -never-ceasing. Yet it is reasonable to suppose that holidays are as -needful to the countryman as to the townsman, and that if the farm -labourer or the shepherd were sent away to the sea every year for a -fortnight's rest and change, he would work with a new energy that would -more than compensate for the work lost. It would be something at least -to break the deadly monotony of the daily round, even if the labourer -had no ideas for profitably spending a holiday. - - * * * * * - - -In the Folds - -For the shepherd the days and nights of January are heavy with -responsibility--he counts himself lucky if he can find time for an -hour's sleep. It is wonderful how the shepherd of a large flock knows -all the ewes and the lambs over which he now watches. In his lambs -he has a personal interest, for there may be a sixpence in his purse -for each lamb that lives to be deprived of its tail. The shepherd's -knowledge of the lambs surpasses that of the ewes, whom sometimes -he deceives; for it is by scent rather than sight that the mother -recognises her offspring, while the shepherd believes only what he -sees. By fastening the skin of a dead lamb on to an orphan he will -induce a bereaved ewe to adopt the orphan, and she will accept, guard, -and love it as if it were her own. - - * * * * * - - -Shepherds' Care - -January is to the shepherd what June is to the gamekeeper. There is -more than common meaning to the shepherd in the greeting, "A happy and -a prosperous New Year." Be luck good or bad, the bleat of the lamb -is the sweetest sound of the year to shepherd ears: it means as much -as the pee-peep of the pheasant chick to the gamekeeper. Keepers and -shepherds are deeply attached to their respective "coops"--a word used -by the shepherd for the enclosures, one hurdle square, made for the -lambs. The experience of coop life is briefer for the lamb than for the -young pheasant. After enjoying a few hours of privacy, the ewe and her -lambs are turned into the large general nursery, to fend for themselves -among the baa-ing crowd. - - * * * * * - - -Winter Partridge-driving - -Weather makes more difference to partridge-driving than to most forms -of shooting. The ideal day comes when the weather is mild, and the air -still. Then only can the movements of partridges be controlled with -some certainty--not that partridges ever can be driven against their -will. In high wind their speed is tremendous, and a hundred birds -do not give the chances of ten too tired to swerve. In hard, frosty -weather, when the fields are like rough paving-stones, though the day -is still, the birds are up and off before the advancing driving-line -can shape itself to influence their flight. But in mild, still -weather, the soft soil clogs the birds' feet, they are slow to rise, -and packs and coveys become split up and their ranks disorganised--to -the advantage of the sportsmen. - -A mild day may open hopefully enough, but if driving rain comes with -blustering wind the sport is spoiled. - -On a frosty day, when things have been going badly, the guns may be -congratulating themselves as they reach some big turnip-fields for -which the birds have been making. A turnip-field may be expected to -steady and control the departure and the direction of birds; but in -the grip of frost turnips are only a little better than the bare, -frozen field. For the leaves, that yesterday made luxuriant cover, -to-day are flattened to the ground by the frost. Even the charlock, -which may have done so much to make up for the thinness of the turnips, -has been shrivelled to a few brown stems. Why the farmer leaves the -late-grown charlock untouched is because he knows that before it -reaches seed-time the frost will have killed every plant. On a small -shoot, frost-flattened turnips may ruin the hope of a full day's -partridge-driving. On big shoots frost counts for less, for long drives -can be taken. Short drives in winter partridge-driving are seldom -profitable--whether a shoot be small or big. - - * * * * * - - -[Illustration: PEEWITS IN WINTER. - -LONDON, EDWARD ARNOLD.] - - -The Fear of Snow - -By the very poor snow is regarded as among the most terrible calamities -of life. Many types of countrymen, rural publicans, postmen, outdoor -labourers, and small traders, speak of snow as the worst of all -possible weather, leaving the most serious after-effects. And snow -means calamity to many wild things. Lucky are the robins of a garden -who have a friend to stir the old hot-bed, and turn up the worms from -beneath the frozen top-soil; happy the grain-feeding birds who find -a rick that has been threshed. Thousands flock to the corn-ricks, -and there is food for all--pheasants, partridges, rooks, jackdaws, -starlings, sparrows, greenfinches, chaffinches, yellow-hammers, and -the bramble-finches, orange, white, and black in plumage. To the -holly-trees come the starving thrushes, and in hard weather even the -fieldfares will lose their extreme shyness to besiege a holly-tree -beside a door. The more delicate redwings die in thousands, though the -dying and dead are seldom seen. - -To a few the snow means profit--for the hawks there is a carnival of -feasting, and the fox finds weak and hungry hares and rabbits an easy -prey, if ill-nourished on a diet of tree-bark and withered herbage. As -to the pheasants, they are well cared for--and the keeper, in snowy -weather, scatters his maize with a liberal hand. - - * * * * * - - -Hard-Weather Prophets - -By many signs wild creatures inform the gamekeeper of the approach -of hard weather. The wood-pigeons give him useful warning. In most -parts of the country flocks of pigeons take toll of the greens and -root-crops--a thousand pigeons may be seen rising from a single field -of roots. In mild weather they may return once or twice during a day. -When they are seen constantly streaming to the root-fields, those -disturbed returning again and again, it is a certain sign that hard -weather is near. - - * * * * * - - -Weather-wise Beasts and Birds - -Animals have a reputation as weather prophets--if their prophecies -strike the human observer as somewhat obvious. The cat washes her -face, and this is commonly held to be a sign of coming rain; in -summer it is thought to be a sign of a thunder-storm when cats are -remarkably lively. Dogs sometimes bury their bones when rain is in the -air--perhaps an inherited instinct to save food against days of bad -hunting. Horses by stretching their necks and sniffing the air seem -to be scenting distant rain; and donkeys have a way of braying before -the storm. Shepherds hold that if sheep turn their tails windward rain -will come; and cowherds read the same prophecy when a herd of cows -gathers at one end of a pasture, their tails to the wind. Changes in -weather mean much to wild life, and we are prepared to believe they are -forewarned. A storm may mean the loss of a meal to a fox, a ruined nest -to a bird, an end of all things to an insect. The fox has done well -that has eaten heartily before the storm. Yet it appears that a change -of weather must be near at hand before wild creatures take notice. -The pheasant crows before the thunder-storm because he hears distant -thunder. The wheatear, a bird nervous of clouds, flies to shelter as -the cloud drives up. It is the first touch of cold weather that sets -squirrels hiding nuts. - -Weather has a marked effect on the moods of wild creatures. There are -days when hares or partridges seem overcome by oppression; they move -listlessly if disturbed, and lie or sit about as though all energy -had gone from them. Thunder in the air may be the cause, or perhaps -snow is coming; when the storm has blown over, liveliness is restored, -and new life inspires all things. Before a storm, partridges in the -stubble-fields set up their feathers, and in cold weather the feathers -of many birds have the appearance of being puffed out, so that they -look almost twice their usual size. Many creatures feed at an unusually -early hour if storms are coming. It is a bad sign when rabbits are out -feeding in the fields early on a bright sunshiny afternoon. The birds -of the open fields--rooks, starlings, pigeons, or fieldfares--feed -hungrily and hastily while rain-clouds overshadow the sky; but it -is a sign of good weather when rooks fly to feed far from their -roosting-trees, and fly high. Cock pheasants will go to roost early -before the storm, choosing low branches, and trees that afford good -protection. In bitter weather, even the warm feathers of birds may -become ice-bound. - - * * * * * - - -Green Winters - -Between a green and a white winter in England there is a world of -difference to wild creatures. There may come day upon day, week upon -week, of mist, rain, fog, and blustering winds, of hail, sleet, -and furious snow-blizzards--to birds and beasts these are days of -prosperity and fatness. Peewits, snipe, woodcock, blackbirds, and -thrushes then find food far more plentiful than in the hot dusty days -of late summer. Often, in late summer, their breasts are narrowed by -leanness to the shape of a boat's keel. But in moist, warm winter days -the flesh rises roundly as if it would burst the skin--the breast-bone, -no longer up-standing like a bare ridge, is buried almost out of sight -in a valley of fat, on the thighs are little hillocks of fat, and the -bones of the back cannot be seen or felt for their thick warm covering. -But should there come two or three days of frost, which hold through -the day and increase their grip on the land by night, then this loaded -store of fat vanishes as mist before the sun. - - * * * * * - - -What Rainy Days bring - -A mild open autumn and a green winter also mean much to the farmers and -to the gamekeepers; a blessing on many accounts, a curse on others. The -farmer groans because his land is so wet and heavy that he cannot sow -his winter seeds; the keeper sees the ruination of many a promising -day's sport. The keeper gains when there are no frost and snow by -having the pleasure of showing bills for corn reduced to a minimum--in -a mild winter he will not need half the amount of corn that must be -distributed to his birds in hard weather, when they are actually in -need of food. What little he gives them in open weather is to keep them -together, as natural food is abundant. But a low bill for corn hardly -compensates the keeper for rain-spoiled sport, or for day after day of -outdoor work in the wet. The work cannot be done in a way to satisfy -the keeper--or possibly others. And the rain means that he falls behind -with that everlasting tax on his time entailed by keeping rabbits -within bounds. After a mild, open winter, by the time the game-shooting -season is ended, and coverts are available for rabbit-killing, young -rabbits have already made their appearance. The keeper welcomes a short -spell of really hard weather in February, so that he may the more -easily catch up all the pheasants he needs for penning. Otherwise the -kind of winter that best suits him is a dry one--without hard frost. - - * * * * * - - -Cubs at Christmas - -We met a gamekeeper who had been blessed with a litter of fox cubs born -about the middle of December--just before the usual mating-time of the -foxes. When most of the season's cubs would be born these Christmas -cubs would be three months old, and well grounded in the elements of -a fox's education. And when the pheasants and partridges began to sit -they could save their mother a deal of laborious work--as our friend -the keeper found out. In cub-hunting days, there must have been some -rude shocks for the puppies of the pack, and even the old stagers of -hounds must have been taken aback when they came to close quarters with -one of these forward cubs. The keeper caught one, and by a strange -chance. He had been expecting a visit from hounds. He knew an earth -where he thought that possibly a vixen later on might have a family; -not willing to disturb the place by spade-work when stopping it, he -stuffed the entrance with sacks. Hounds came and went--and afterwards -the keeper visited the earth to recover his sacks. What was his -surprise when he found that inside one of the sacks a cub had curled -itself comfortably for sleep. Well knowing that if he were to say there -was a litter of cubs on his ground at Christmas none would believe him, -he put the cub into a capacious pocket. Then when he told the story -of his early litter, and was laughed at for his pains, he confounded -sceptics by drawing the little fox, alive and uninjured, from his -coat-tails. - - * * * * * - - -Work for Rainy Days - -The keeper always has a supply of odd jobs on hand to occupy his time -on a soaking wet day, or when a snow-storm rages. He has always plenty -to do--but much of his work cannot be done properly in bad weather, -and to work out of doors on a wet day may be as much a waste of time -as to work indoors on a fine day on matters of no moment. It would be -foolish to go ferreting in heavy rain--nets become soaked, rabbits will -not bolt, and digging for ferrets in soft mud is heart-breaking work; -at the end of the day, while there may be a few rabbits that look as -if they have been bathing in mud, there is all the tackle to be dried -for the next day. Then again, it would be sheer waste of time to stop -rabbit-burrows when snow has freshly fallen, for half the holes would -be hidden, and the work would have to be done over again. It pays to -wait until the next day, when rabbits have been out to feed and the -holes are seen easily. - -When he decides to stay under cover the keeper hardly knows where to -begin, as he looks about his store-houses and sheds. Here are traps -that should be cleaned and overhauled, broken chains to be mended, -bent parts to be carefully straightened--a little judicious filing -and a drop of oil are needed here and there to make all parts work -together smoothly and swiftly. Snares must be overhauled and sorted, -the sound ones to be neatly shaped so that the noose stays open ready -for use, and each one must be fitted with its string, tealer, and plug. -A supply of new snares may be made. Plugs and pegs may be shaped, for -holding snares and traps, from a length of solid ash which the keeper -knows to be well seasoned, so that it will not crack when he drives it -into stony ground with his heavy, steel-shod heel. For months he has -treasured that piece of ash--and terrible was the vengeance that he -vowed on his wife when she dared to hint that it would serve nicely for -her copper fire. - - * * * * * - - -The Old Lumber - -The wet day brings the chance for doing various little carpentering -jobs, long neglected. The keeper may have set himself the task of -making a new hand-barrow before the coming of another pheasant-rearing -time--a barrow for carrying the coops, two at a time, with the hen and -precious chicks within, where a horse and cart cannot pass through -the coverts. Perhaps he remembers a day when the crazy handle of the -old barrow snapped off and upset two coops of his best birds. Then -a wet day is a good day for sorting coops, and putting apart for -professional treatment those beyond the keeper's makeshift craft. He -can set about painting the whole ones. Now and again he must look to -his ferret-hutches, and fit new wire-netting to the fronts if any -meshes are rotten with rust--should the ferrets escape there is no -telling what may happen. And guns are never the worse for an extra -special examination, and a thorough cleaning and oiling. An all-round -tidying-up of his varied assortment of tackle certainly makes for a -temporary improvement in the look of his work-places--but, as it has -been with every clearance, the same old lumber is once more reprieved. -"You see," says the keeper, "it might come in useful some time." - - * * * * * - - -When Foxes mate - -Soon after Christmas the gamekeeper hears the barking of foxes at -night, and he well knows the reason. The foxes are searching for mates. -And here is one of many reasons why hounds in these days fail to find -foxes in woods never hitherto drawn blank. Hunting and shooting have -disturbed the quiet of the coverts, the underwood harvest is going -forward, the supply of fox-food is shorter than at any other time, and -is most hard to catch; so foxes generally have forsaken their haunts, -finding lodging in out-of-the-way places which offer some chance of -peace and quietness. Followers of hounds have much to learn about the -ways of the fox in January. They go from one blank covert to another, -cheerfully riding an intervening couple of miles, while all the time -the fox is lurking in a dell or a hedgerow only two hundred yards from -the first covert drawn. Yet a suggestion that the dell or the hedgerow -should be tried meets with silent scorn. This might be expected from -people who hunt to ride, or people new to the hunting-field; but -it does not become the experienced to pin all their faith to the -well-known coverts. In a southern county hounds have disturbed no fewer -than twelve foxes together--probably a collection of suitors for the -pad of one or two eligible vixens. - - * * * * * - - -A Keeper's Dreams - -On a Sunday after Christmas we paid a visit to an old keeper, who, on -his own confession, had not dined wisely on the good fare provided by -his wife on Christmas Day. Into our sympathetic ears he poured the -strangest tale of the dreams that he had dreamed. The first began -pleasantly enough, but ended in a nightmare. He was one of a party -shooting in his best wood, and he was ever in the hottest part of the -hottest corner, but each time he threw up his gun to shoot the crowds -of pheasants, the gun fell all in pieces. Never, he said, had he known -such a nightmare; though some of the other dreams that succeeded were -bad enough. - -One was to the effect that on an important occasion all the birds of -his coverts utterly refused to rise and rocket, and when he pressed -them with beaters he found that one and all had turned into foxes. -This dream merged into one in which the foxes in his preserves were so -numerous that they outnumbered and overpowered the hounds, and then -attacked the Master, who was eaten. And there was a dream in which the -old keeper found that he had changed places with his employer, whom he -roundly abused for the mistakes he made in placing stops and managing -the beaters. The climax of this was the unkindest cut of all. The -gamekeeper dreamt that his employer, far from bearing him any ill-will -for the abuse, sent to his cottage on Christmas Eve a large tin of -tobacco, beneath the lid of which was a ten-pound note. This worthy -old man has had many queer dreams in his time--if we are to believe -him. He is ready to confess, for the sake of the story following the -confession, that he has never really mastered the art of shooting -driven partridges. But one night he dreamt that he had brought off the -most masterly right and left, and from far and near congratulations on -his brace poured upon him. Then he awoke to find himself in his own -familiar chair by the fireside, in the chill dawn of a winter morning, -and the local doctor, who was also a sportsman, was telling him how -there had arrived safely in the room upstairs a brace of fine young -keepers. - - * * * * * - - -A Death-bed Vision - -We can vouch for the truth of this fox story: An old keeper--the keeper -of a shoot where partridges were preferred to foxes--lay dying. It was -late in May, when the partridges were beginning to sit. Suddenly he -called for his two sons and told them of a dream. In a certain burrow -in a certain wood adjoining his partridge fields he had dreamt of a -litter of cubs. And he refused to be comforted until his sons had -gone forth to verify his dream. In due time they came home with enough -evidence that the dream was of true things to allow the old man to give -up the ghost with an untroubled mind. - - * * * * * - - -Christmas Sport - -The partridge at Christmas is at his best--as a test of reputations. -In this respect there is a world of difference between the slow, -simple yellow-legged bird of September and the partridge of December. -To bag a brace from a September covey is satisfactory to a sportsman. -To get a bird with each barrel at an October drive is no mean thing. -But to bring off a double event at Christmas partridges is to make a -reputation. And it is to experience a feeling of goodwill towards the -whole world. For Christmas and cold hands excuse a multitude of misses. - -The birds whirl over the line of guns like brown clusters of bullets. -And if the sportsman is tested, the gamekeeper's reputation hangs -also in the balance; his highest art is called for if he is to drive -birds in the desired direction. Whether or not his birds have been -much harassed by previous driving makes a difference to his chances. -Success will be appreciated, for sportsmen keenly relish a selected -partridge drive as a foretaste to a pheasant shoot. When the drive is -over and the pheasants' turn has come, they feel in slightly faster but -certainly smoother water. - - * * * * * - - -Cunning Cock Pheasants - -No bird is more artful than an old cock pheasant, or better able to -take care of himself. At this season a solitary cock may be observed -night after night roosting in some isolated tree, out in the wind-swept -fields, and far from the sheltered coverts. Yet you may hunt this -bird all day, high and low, in vain. When, on the way home, you pass -his dark form on a lonely perch, you feel he deserves to rest in -peace. Sometimes the old cock is over-cunning, or too confident in -the safety of his retreat. He may allow one to approach within a few -feet, although he certainly heard footsteps in time to make his escape. -A certain keeper can tell many tales of the inglorious ends of his -cunning cock pheasants, but most of these episodes are better forgotten. - - * * * * * - - -A Dish of Greens - -Winter flocks of pigeons are here to-day and gone to-morrow, travelling -far in search of food. If they find little or no beech-mast or acorns, -they are forced early in winter to a diet of salad. It must be a relief -to the wandering hosts when they come to a place where acorns are in -plenty. In hard winters, turnips supply a great part of wood-pigeons' -food; and it used to be held that from this food their flesh acquired -too pronounced a flavour, so that nice judges, who at other times -thought them a delicate dish, would reject them. One old-time -sportsman held that the green leaves of turnips gave a peculiar and -very palatable flavour to the flesh of larks and partridges. In this -connection we always think of the story told by Gilbert White of a -neighbour who shot a ring-dove as it was returning from feed and going -to roost. "When his wife had picked and drawn it, she found its craw -stuffed with the most nice and tender tops of turnips. These she washed -and boiled, and so sat down to a choice and delicate plate of greens, -culled and provided in this extraordinary manner." - - * * * * * - - -Christmas Shoots - -Shooting parties in the week following Christmas have a festive air. -As at the hall, so in the keeper's cottage, the air is charged with -the Christmas spirit. Ten o'clock on any morning soon after Christmas -Day may find the keeper entertaining a crowd of beaters at the expense -of his own private cellar, and the good things from the cellar are -served hot and spiced. In hats and caps are seasonable tokens--sprigs -of mistletoe and holly. The keeper himself does not wear button-holes, -but should his children make a garland of holly for the collar of his -old retriever, he will leave it for the brambles to pull away. The guns -turn up late--they have been dancing through the night; when all are -met, in the brief greetings, in the distribution of cartridge-bags, and -in the inquiries about weather and the possible bag, there is a note of -unusual cheeriness. - - * * * * * - - -Woodcock Talk - -At a Boxing Day shooting-lunch the talk among the guns was upon the -ways and wiles of woodcock. One spoke of his long bill, with its -sensitive nerves, which tell the bird what he has found when the -bill forages among the dead leaves; speculating as to whether he -lived by his powers of suction only. Another wondered if the eating -qualities of woodcock legs were really improved by pulling out the -sinews. The question arose: Is the man who shoots a woodcock entitled -to its pen-feathers, or is the man who first finds and secures those -delicate trophies best entitled to stick them in the band of his hat? -Woodcock provoked many controversies. Is there any secret in the proper -roasting of them? Would the law absolve a man who shot his fellow when -shooting 'cock?--and would the fact that he shot his bird as well -as his man make any difference? How many people could swear to have -seen the mother woodcock carrying her young; and exactly how does -she carry them? How many of the home-bred birds leave us in autumn? -What proportion of woodcock comes in from abroad, and what is the -difference between the foreigners and the genuine Britishers? In answer -to the last question, a suggestion was made that the foreign birds -were large and light in colour, but the British birds small and dark. -Around this point arose a discussion, and the keeper was called in to -give his opinion. "It ain't nothin' at all to do with Englishmen and -foreigners," he said. "It be whether they be cocks or hens, and 'tis -the large light uns that be the hens." - - * * * * * - - -Spare the Hens - -Most gamekeepers hold the killing of a hen pheasant after Christmas -to be a moral crime. And perhaps most genuine sportsmen feel a twinge -of the conscience when they pull a trigger at a hen in New Year -days--irrespective of the host's permission. Of course, when the orders -are to spare hens, the man who kills or even tries to kill one does -something that the keeper will not forget--he loses caste for ever in -the keeper's eyes; whereas the man who is not greedy to take advantage -of an impromptu permission to shoot hens ensures for himself a niche in -the keeper's good graces. - -It is true, there are hens and hens. Only a churlish keeper would not -admire the man who stops one of those skyscraping hens, of the sort -bagged by ordinary gunners about once in a lifetime. But the order, -"Shoot hens if they are real tall ones," alarms a keeper--unless he has -full confidence in the guns of a party. When the word has been given, -it is wonderful how many hens are "real tall ones." There are excuses -which must be accepted: for in certain conditions of light, when the -golden moment for pressing the trigger is within grasp, it is almost -impossible to distinguish hens from cocks--length of tail is then the -most reliable evidence. - -We remember a knowing old keeper who laid a plot to ensure at least a -merry start to a Christmas shoot, when "Cocks only" was the order of -the day. This worthy, when catching up birds for his pens, had gathered -together some twenty superfluous cocks. These, a dishevelled and -more or less tailless crew, he carried just before starting-time to a -dell thick with spruce, chosen doubtless for decency's sake: and on a -plausible pretext lined out his guns between the dell and a wood. But -he forgot there was no natural inducement to the birds to fly in the -face of evident danger--and all the birds broke away out of gunshot, -and so suddenly as to make their recent history all too evident. - - * * * * * - - -A Free-and-Easy - -Boxing Day, in many parts, remains a regulation fixture for -rabbit-shooting by tenants, local tradesmen, keepers, and their -friends. Nobody could possibly appreciate the exciting nature of these -shoots unless present in person. It is safer to be present only in -spirit. Otherwise, shot-proof cover becomes the most desirable thing -in the world: and it often seems a wonder how more than one man can -survive the day to count the bag. Talking to a tenant-farmer on such -an occasion, we noticed that his hands were covered with warts, and -suggested remedies. "They b'aint woorts, bless ye--they be only shots," -came a proud answer--the honourable wounds of many rabbit-shooting -campaigns. - -At another tenant-and-tradesman shoot we found the guns unduly -plentiful--there were twenty to begin with, and the party grew as the -day wore on. But all of a sudden there was a magic disappearance of a -large proportion of sportsmen, corresponding with the appearance of an -important-looking individual, who calmly went to the man next to us, -and relieved him of his piece and cartridges, which he began to use in -a liberal fashion. Gradually, the original gunners reappeared--mostly -from fir-trees. And it transpired that they were gunners without -licences--who had taken courage when they saw the local officer of -the law stretching a point himself. One, bolder than the others, made -an appeal to the law for a ruling on the licensing question--and was -informed that notice must be given of the imminent use of the gun, in -order that the law's representative might have time to look the other -way. - - * * * * * - - -A Keeper's Ghost-Story - -The gamekeeper, perhaps, believes less in ghosts than other countrymen. -He is not afraid to keep vigil in the loneliest wood, though well known -to be haunted by a headless spectre. He carries a gun and his dog is -at heel, so it may be that the ghosts are afraid of the keeper. We -know a house where great alarm was caused by the ghostly ringing of -bells. Watches were set, and one watcher after another made report of -a flitting figure, clad in white, that roamed the corridors. At last -the keeper was called in to deal with the ghost. He took up his watch, -his trusty gun, loaded with buckshot, in his hand. "There I bid," he -relates, "till jest on twelve o'clock--when all of a sudden the old -baize door at the end of the stone passage opens, of its own accord -like, and in slips the ghost. I ups wi' m' gun, and I sez, 'Be you the -ghost?' sez I. 'And if ye moves,' sez I, 'I shoots.' Three times I -speaks, gruffer and gruffer each time. And then I makes a rush for the -ghost--wot turns out arter all to be Mary the 'ouse-maid." "What did -you do with Mary?" we asked the story-teller. "Lor' love ye, I took and -married 'er out o' the way." - -This same keeper let us into the secret of his shattered faith in -ghosts. As a young man he and a fellow under-keeper had been told off -to watch the carriage-drive for night poachers. In a jocular moment the -head-keeper warned them not to be afraid if they should see the estate -ghost--the headless body of an old coachman driving a pair of galloping -horses harnessed to a hearse. Naturally, the two young keepers, as -the night wore on, fell to talking about the headless apparition. -Presently, sure enough, hoofs were heard, and a hearse came lumbering -down the drive. The watchers crouched low in the heap of dead bracken -in which they were hidden. Asked, an hour later, if they had seen the -poachers, "No," they said bravely; "we only saw the old fellow without -a head, driving his hearse." "Well," said the head-keeper, chuckling, -"if you'd looked inside his hearse you would have found it full of -corpses--rabbits' corpses! Me and Bill, we ketched the ghost, whiles he -was drinking your 'ealth." - - * * * * * - - -Old Friends in Velveteen - -Many gamekeepers we have known. Looking back down the years we can -summon to view a serried regiment of the servants of sport; large men -and small, rough and gentle, brown-clad men, some in velveteen, others -in rough tweed, most of them in stout leggings, all with the keen -eyes of watchmen, bronzed by the sun, beaten by the weather; good men -and true, every man of them. The best of them are strong, upright, -fearless, full of confidence; men who neither beg favours nor grant -them; set their own standards; keep their own counsels; take no false -oaths, whatever the provocation of the poacher; who, in preserving -game, have no enmity against other living creatures; who are all-round -sportsmen and lovers of fair play. At the end of the long line, -farthest from view yet most distinct, stands an old man with silver -hair, with light blue eyes, and a face kindly, yet sharp as a hawk's, -the keeper who was first to show us how to hold a gun. - -Many fine stories this old man would tell, leaning over a gate, gun -in hand, of Master this and Master that, uncles and such-like, even -then old men to a boy's eyes, yet still called, by the older keeper, -by their familiar names. "I mind the time," he would begin, his eyes -twinkling: and then he would ramble off into the history of some wild -affray with gipsies or with poachers, enough to make a boy's hair stand -on end. - -One time that often came to his mind was when Master Charles plagued -the life out of him to be taken, at night, through a bedroom window, -by way of a ladder, on a hunt for poachers; and how at last he yielded -to entreaty, though it was as much as his place was worth if Master -Charles's guardian got wind of the affair. So he chose a bright -moon-lit night, when he was tolerably certain that no poachers would -venture forth; whistled beneath Master Charles's window, upraised -a ladder, and got the young gentleman safely to ground, in nothing -more than nightshirt, greatcoat, and bedroom slippers. Off they went -together, and it was the keeper's heart that beat fastest. Arrived in -the Long Walk, what should they see but two poachers with bows and -arrows, shooting the pheasants in their sleep. The keeper's first -idea was to send the young master back to bed; but he was not to be -denied this grand adventure: and with a yell and a bound he was among -the poachers before the keeper could say Jack Robinson. It was a -desperate affair, not only for the poachers, but more particularly for -the gamekeeper; but he still lives to tell the tale, with ever more -wonderful variations. - - * * * * * - - -The Converted Shepherd - -A favourite story of another old friend tells how he found the cure for -a notorious poacher. It was in the days before the Ground Game Act, and -a farmer had complained, as well he might, of rabbits that had cleared -every blade of a field of oats, and were beginning to attack some wheat -in the next field. The keeper set many traps and wires. His cottage -was a long way from the wheat-field: but the cottage of the poacher, -a shepherd, was near at hand. Knowing that the shepherd would in any -case keep an eye on the captured rabbits, the keeper went to him, and -frankly invited him to remove all those caught overnight, and keep -them safe until he should come himself in the morning. The keeper, of -course, could tell where a rabbit had been caught; and no doubt the -shepherd knew this, for he delivered up each night's catch to a rabbit. -And he confessed, at the end of a week's campaign, that the confidence -placed in him so unexpectedly had broken his heart of its love of -poaching for ever. - - * * * * * - - -A Final Story - -All keepers are shamed when sportsmen go home from their preserves with -empty bags. To have in a party a shooter "who never shot noth'n' all -day long" reacts on the keeper's fame. We noticed that a crafty keeper -friend would always scheme to place an old colonel well forward of the -line of guns; and as the colonel was never seen to add to the bag, we -asked for an explanation. "Well, ye see, it be like this 'ere," came -the answer. "I knows as 'e can't shoot, and 'e knows it; but I knows -and 'e knows that if 'e be put forward 'e be likely to get a shot at a -rabbit what's stopped to think. And 'e knows that I knows that 'e will -pay somethink 'andsome when 'e can go 'ome an' tell 'is missus as 'ow -'e ain't bin an' disgraced 'isself agin. So I puts 'im forward; and -every time 'e shoots a rabbit what's stopped to think, it reminds 'e of -I." - - * * * * * - - -Careful Wives - -With many gamekeepers we have known many gamekeepers' wives. -Strong-minded, capable women as they are, most keepers are wise enough -to regard them as Ministers of Finance, religiously handing over -all their gain in coins. A shilling a week, perhaps, is handed back -again by way of pocket-money, besides an allowance of 'baccy, out of -housekeeping funds. We have known more than one keeper who never would -have had a shilling had it not been for his wife; and we have known -more than one keeper's wife who would never fail to keep her hand on -every shilling that her good-man brought home. - - * * * * * - - -"What Her was Like" - -One old friend, old Henry, made up his mind to revolt against his -wife's cupidity. Coming home one winter night after a shoot, at which -he had been so lucky as to pocket a couple of pounds, the temptation -to conceal them from his good dame was irresistible. He buried the -coins beside an old ash-stump in one of his woods--well beyond scenting -distance from his cottage. He knew from many a past experience that if -he left a farthing in his pockets overnight it would be gone before -morning. That night no sleep came to him. His conscience was troubled. -He turned and tossed; as his good-wife put it, "He carried on like, so -as he couldn't sleep hisself, nor wouldn't let I." At last the good -woman, who had drawn his pockets in vain, put a straight question: -"'Enry," said she, "what _be_ up with 'ee?" Then 'Enry confessed: -he told how he had buried two pounds beside the ash-stump. And then -the two of them rose, in the middle of that winter night, and walked -out into the wood until they stumbled on the ash-stump, and they dug -until they found the money. As poor Henry used to say, in days when no -good-wife remained to take his gains, "That'll tell ye a little what -her was like." - - - - -INDEX - - - Acorns, 234, 235 - August, 159 - - Badger, 121, 122, 254, 255 - Barren birds, 162 - Beaters, 41, 233, 275; - compensation for wounded, 244 - Birds, at mating-time, 60 - Blackbirds, 123 - Broody hens, 73 - Bullfinches, 122, 123 - - Cats, 29, 30, 96, 123, 133, 263, 264 - Cattle, in woods, 112, 113 - Chalk-pits, 255, 256 - Christmas shooting, 294, 295 - Clues, 161 - Cornfields, inhabitants of, 163; - sport in, 167 - Covert-shooting, 262, 263, 271 - Crows, 49 - Cubbing, 181, 182 - Cubs, 8, 9, 59, 149, 150, 151, 178, 190, 191, 286 - Cub-snatching, 89, 90 - - Dog-dealing, 199 - Dogs, for ratting, 98; - poachers', 16, 17 - Dog-washing, 153 - Dormice, 208, 230 - Doves, 156, 157 - Duck, 159 - - Fear and flight, 46, 47 - Feathers, 130 - Ferrets, 95 - Fieldfares, 37 - Foxes, 8, 9, 60, 149, 245, 248; - and pheasants, 124, 246; - and ferrets, 256; - and rabbits, 45; - and snares, 245, 247; - how to keep from nests, 153; - in corn, 167; - on shooting days, 268, 269; - trapping, 23, 24; - turned down, 119 - Foxgloves, for dog-washing, 155 - Fur, changes of colour, 25, 26 - - Game, and motors, 125; - and wire, 135, 136; - and water, 142 - Gamekeeper, 6, 11, 17, 26, 30, 41, 81, 82, 103, 131, 132, 141, - 144, 208, 227, 228, 287, 289, 290-292, 297-304; - and marriage, 13, 14; - and new berth, 14; - appearance of, 210; - as advertiser, 14; - as chorister, 103; - as cook, 6, 116, 117; - as dog-dealer, 199; - as gardener, 6, 9-11; - cottage and pets of, 3, 4; - dress of, 104, 300; - dinner of, 7; - ethics of, 5; - larder of, 5-7; - holidays of, 12, 13, 209-211; - in North and South, 15; - position, wages, privileges, and perquisites of, 1-3 - Gipsies, 215 - - Hares, 58, 59, 208; - and small holdings, 265; - curious accidents to, 202, 203, 225 - Harvest mice, 167, 208, 209 - Hawks, 18, 61, 62, 105 - Hedgehogs, 166, 173, 206, 231 - High birds, 189 - Homely medicines, 7, 8 - Honeysuckle, cause of accidents, 204, 205 - Hounds, 145, 259, 260; - "finding," 190, 191 - Hunting, 249 - Hurdle-making, 77, 78 - - Jackdaws, 111 - Jays, 160 - - Landrail, 157, 191, 192 - Leverets, 65 - Long-netting, 219, 220 - - Magpies, 31, 49 - "Marking," 193, 194, 195 - Moles, 261 - "Mothering," 117 - Moucher, 257 - Muzzle-loaders, 272 - - Nesting-sites, 73, 80, 81 - Nightjar, 125, 126 - Nutters and gamekeeper, 207, 208 - - Owls, 105, 205 - - Partridge, flying with broken wing, 201 - Partridge-driving, 279, 280, 292 - Partridges, 60, 61, 92, 93, 114, 133, 134, 140; - and dry summer, 133; - and foxes, 114; - and grassland, 93; - and June, 137, 141; - and peasants, 93; - and peewits, 92, 93; - and policemen, 214; - and rain, 139; - cocks and hens, 129; - French, 75-77; - hatching of their eggs, 139; - perseverance of, 115, 116; - young and old, 129 - Pheasant and young, 117, 118 - Pheasants, 10, 40, 41, 43, 53, 54, 55, 56, 68, 71, 73, 119, 124, - 138, 155, 156, 185, 187, 269, 293, 296; - food-bill, 225; - rearing by hand, 85-89 - Pied birds, 199 - Pigs, 198 - Poachers, 15, 57, 180; - dogs of, 16, 17; - traps to catch, 111, 112; - weapons of, 260 - Policemen, sporting, 214, 298 - Prospects, 161-163 - Puppies, 146, 147, 197, 252 - - Rabbits, 124, 257; - and snares, 33, 34; - as perquisites, 5; - in autumn, 211-213; - pressed for food, 44, 45; - when fattest, 236 - Rats, 22, 94, 99, 131, 222 - Rat-catching, 90, 91 - Ratting, 98, 100, 102; - without ferrets, 100 - Red-legs, 141 - Retrievers, 148, 206, 207, 270, 271 - Ride-trimming, 172 - Rooks, 47, 66 - - Scent, 238; - and retrievers, 148 - Shepherd, the, 276-279, 302 - "Shocks," shooting among, 192, 193 - Sight, of birds and beasts, 37, 38 - Sleep, of birds and beasts, 34 - Snares, 33, 34 - Snow, 281 - Sparrow-hawks, 10, 62 - Sporting terms and others, 63-65 - Squirrels, 27, 29 - Starlings, roosting, 204 - Stoats, 172, 236, 240; - and weasels, the difference, 254; - yellow and white of, 25 - Stock-doves, 62 - Swedes, warts on, 163 - - Tipping, 2, 243, 304 - Trapping, 22, 23, 24, 26, 176, 178 - Traps, 24, 25, 26, 32, 33 - Truffles, 206 - - Underwood, 226, 227, 241, 242 - - "Velveteens," 104 - Vermin, lists of, 18, 19, 20, 26 - - Walking-up partridges, 180 - Warts, from shooting, 297 - Wasps, 264, 265 - Water, and game, 142-145; - for birds and beasts, 133 - Weasels, 25, 173, 254 - Weather-wisdom, 282, 283 - Wines, home-made, 183, 184 - Wire, and game, 135, 136, 253 - Woodcock, 195, 196, 197, 295; - and woodcock owls, 195, 196 - Woodman, 79, 80 - Wood-pigeons, 4, 5, 63, 157, 293 - - - PRINTED BY - BALLANTYNE & COMPANY LTD - Tavistock Street Covent Garden - London - - - - -Transcriber Note - -Minor typos corrected. 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