THE LIBRARY

OF

THE UNIVERSITY
OF CALIFORNIA

»

PRESENTED BY

PROF. CHARLES A. KOFOID AND
MRS. PRUDENCE W. KOFOID

TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

TEN YEARS
OF GAME-KEEPING

BY

OWEN JONES

' GAMEKEEPER '

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS

LONDON

EDWARD ARNOLD

1909

\_A II rights reserved]

vi PREFACE

myself and my adventures must be my apology for
many * Ts.J

To a few, I hope, it will bring a whiff of woods
and fields, a remembrance of rain-drops on autumn
leaves, and, maybe, a vision of many a sporting day
spent in the company of those excellent fellows, my

brother keepers.

O. J.

September, 1909.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I

HOW I BECAME A KEEPER

PAGES

Early days— Schemes and dreams by day and night—The
fascination of game-keeping — The bright side — I fire a gun
— Caps and candles — Mimic shoots — The question of a
career — I become a gamekeeper at fifteen shillings a week —
First impressions — The finger trick — The best start — Value
of education — Responsibilities — Worries of first shoot i — 7

CHAPTER II

ON A PARTRIDGE BEAT

My first beat— A farmer — 'Enry the carter — His brother-in-
law's rabbit- shooting and mine — A novel puncture — A
good ratting ferret — End of a poaching cat — Foxes — I
catch egg-stealers — Gipsies — Egg trickery and gratuitous
advice - - 8 — 24

CHAPTER III

MY FIRST SHOOT

Sweet September — Estimating birds — A night out — False
alarms — Hungry, wet, and weary — The First — Bubble bags
— A lurcher — My friend the shepherd — Ten-thirty — Who
knows best ? — My first tip — Forty and a half brace ! - 25 — 35

CHAPTER IV

PARTRIDGES

Their popularity and thrift — Their comparative scarcity — How
they are persecuted — Thoughtless shooters— Partridges
pay for attention — Birds in bad weather — Poverty of their
food compared to that of pheasants — Value of artificial
feeding — Destruction of nests — Cheap nesting cover —
Coverts — Why always pheasants ? — Dogs and nests —
Faults of partridges — Farmers and compensation — A
health to the bonny brown birds - - 36 — 51

vii

viii CONTENTS

CHAPTER V

PARTRIDGE-SHOOTING

PAGES

Anticipation — Modern methods — Weather and wildness — The
more birds the wilder they are — Towering birds — The legs-
down fallacy — The cloud of feathers — Some stories —
Driving — Skill and circumstances — Observations on
driving - - - 52~75

CHAPTER VI

VERMIN AND TRAPPING

The worst pests — Poisoning rats — Rooks as robbers — Ten
stoats and a silvery-white pheasant — Litters of stoats —
Stoats and weasels and rats — Hawks — Hedgehogs — Jays
as sentinels — Owls — Discrimination — Vermin without
end - ... 76 — 106

CHAPTER VII

PHEASANTS : IN PEACE

Why keepers prefer pheasants to • partridges — Advantages of
pheasants over partridges — Comparisons of nesting habits
— Hand-rearing — Ups and downs — The keeper as doctor —
Short-tailed pheasants not appreciated — Peeling eggs — An
explanation - - 107 — 121

CHAPTER VIII
PHEASANTS: IN WAR

To the keeper a pheasant is a pheasant — Wild v. hand-reared
for shooting— Craftiness of wild birds— Little and big
coverts — A keeper's dodge — My first pheasant shoot — Bad
guns make bad birds — A beater's comment — Woods alter
—Fog - - 122—132

CHAPTER IX

HARES AND RABBITS

Hares more satisfactory than rabbits — Keep your hares quiet —
Hares and hounds — Hare disease — Damage by hares —
Rabbits, rats, and roots — How rabbits use their teeth-
Hares and holes — Shooting hares — Rabbit-shooters — Warm
work ----- - 133—146

CHAPTER X

WOOD-PIGEONS AND WILD-FOWL

The difficulty, uncertainty, and charm of pigeon-shooting —
Novel pigeon-shooting — Value of first innings — Best time

CONTENTS ix

— Hints — Habits of pigeons — A pigeon and a stone — Turtle-
doves— A warm corner — Pigeons at ponds — Food of
pigeons — Pigeon diphtheria — A slice of luck — Winter
work - - 147 — 1 66

CHAPTER XI

FOXES AND THE EVERLASTING QUESTION

How some foxes were well looked after — No cause, no conflict
— Give and take — Commercial aspect of hunting and shoot-
ing— The fox tax — Suggestions — Foxes and partridges —
Rabbits, foxes, and birds — Which pays the labourer better,
hunting or shooting ?- - 167 — 181

CHAPTER XII

TYPES OF SHOOTERS

The interfering shooter — The 'sketchy' shooter— The late guest
— The perfumed shooter — The 'winger' — The man in
weird raiment — Some incidents — The fidgety shooter 182 — 195

CHAPTER XIII

MY BROTHER KEEPERS

Varieties of keeper — The backbiting keeper — ' Previous to a
cold' — The privileged keeper — The diplomatic keeper —
Stock phrases — Keepers as sportsmen — The jealousy of
keepers — The extravagant keeper — The exaggerating
keeper — The ' some ' birds keeper - - 196 — 213

CHAPTER XIV

BEATERS AND STOPS

The shooter a beater appreciates — Bad guns, bad beating — The
beater question — Beaters ancient and modern — A beater's
business — Host, keeper, and beaters — Complaints of
beaters — Poachers as beaters — Stops — Beaters' strikes —
The beaters' lunch — How to manage beaters — The beaters'
supper - 214 — 231

CHAPTER XV

TRESPASSERS AND POACHERS

A lady and her dog — Primrose-pickers — Egg-poachers — Wilful
destruction of eggs — A lump of coal — Gipsies — Inferences
— An old shepherd — Unsuspected poachers — Plausible
excuses of poachers— Poachers and policy - - 232—246

x CONTENTS

CHAPTER XVI

MY DOGS AND OTHERS

PAGES

A good dog — A wild dog — Dog-dealing — A London auction —
Two little terriers — Perfect obedience — Two tragedies — A
beautiful Clumber — Distemper — Natural accomplishments
of dogs — Friendships among dogs — And with a goose — A
mad dog — Dog-shooting — Trespassing dogs - 247 — 264

CHAPTER XVII

TIPS AND TIPPERS

The custom of tipping — On being tipped — Tipping-time — Tout-
ing for tips — Generous tippers — Average bag of tips —
Tricks of tippers— Exceptional tips— My last tip - 265—275

CHAPTER XVIII

ODDS AND ENDS

High-grade nobility — The elusiveness of cartridge-bags —
Rabbits as medicine— Shooting accidents— Lady shooters
— What is a ' reared ' pheasant ? — Are keepers good shots ?
— A cat and a rabbit — A keeper's feat — A very popular
fallacy — Keepers and poison — Artfulness of rabbits —
Ferrets— Mammoth nests— Moles and nests — Wild honey
—A reward—' Coom to daddy !' - 276—292

CHAPTER XIX

JOYS AND SORROWS

The sweetness of success— Keepers judged by their bags-
Nesting— Feast-days — Illness — Unusual sights— The keeper
as honorary executioner — A comparison - - 293 — 300

CHAPTER XX

CONCLUSION

Long shots— Callousness— Vermin the salt of the keeper's life

— Game-keeping as a road to fortune - 301 — 302

INDEX 303—306

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

TO FACE PAGE

Tethering the Sitting Hens - Frontispiece

The Keeper's Kitchen

Ferrets that a Few Seconds before were Furiously Ratting - 2

My Old Retriever 2

Full-dress Uniform - 2

There's many a Slip between a Good Hatch and September 26

What a Fox left of a Pheasant Sitting on Fourteen Eggs - 26
Section of Woodcock's Wing showing Position of ' Pin '

Feather - ... 38

Rook and Partridge with Abnormal Mandible 38

Young Weasels - 38
April 26, 1908 : Tracks of French Partridge to her Nest in

Tuft of Dead Grass 40

April 26, 1908 - 40

Partridge on her Nest - 48

Off to Feed - 48

All Hands to the Rats 78

Mistress of the Situation 78

A Condensed ' Gallows ' 86

Naturally mummified Stoats - 86

An Ordinary ' Gallows ' 86

Young Sparrow-hawks 98

A Pheasant Usurps a Thrush's Nest built on the Ground - 114

The Rearing Field 114

Fixing Decoys on a High Hedge 150

Placing Decoys on Wheat-shocks - 150

xi

xii LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

TO FACE PAGE

Straight and High Overhead - 150

Shooting from the Middle of a Low Hedge - 150

Cubs' Interrupted Feast 178

Playground of Cubs - 178

Beaters and Stops 222

Very Young Hedgehogs 222

Tug-of-War with a Rat 222

Dog-washing - 258
A Cat without Sin, and a Rabbit that Enjoyed Cold Roast

Chicken - 258

Nest and Eggs of Landrail - 282

The Owner of the Above Nest 282

Ride-trimming 300

Pleasant Reflections .... 300

TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

CHAPTER I

HOW I BECAME A KEEPER

Early days — Schemes and dreams by day and night — The fascination
of game-keeping — The bright side — I fire a gun — Caps and
candles — Mimic shoots — The question of a career — I become a
gamekeeper at fifteen shillings a week — First impressions — The
finger trick — The best start — Value of education — Responsi-
bilities— Worries of first shoot.

So soon as I could run I acquired a determined
love for rabbits, and acquired also the most dis-
appointing proof that they could run faster than I
could. For all that, my sister and I persevered
heroically, encouraged by the suggestion of our
nurse that the placing of salt on a rabbit's tail
would insure our catching it. To live for ever in
a shepherd's hut in a field of rape, to which thou-
sands of pigeons flocked, was one of our childish
schemes. We thought in those sanguine days that
we could make, not only a living, but a fortune, by
shooting pigeons and selling those we could not
eat. To miss a pigeon seemed impossible, then.
Of poachers we talked with awe by day, and by

i

2 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

night had horribly exciting dreams. One autumn
day my sister, brother, and I hit on the idea of run-
ning home, shrieking that we had been attacked by
poachers, and my brother's flaxen locks were freely
anointed with crushed blackberries to lend colour
to our story. On another occasion we three spied
a mistle-thrush's nest in an oak in a plantation.
I can still recall that sunny spot, an ideal one for
a pheasant's nest. Unfortunately, just as my brother
had climbed nearly to the nest the keeper spied
us. And how we ran ! We did a record half-mile
home, where we hid among the faggots in the wood-
shed. And it was a long time before we ventured
forth, though we, knew that a dinner was awaiting
us that included a jam roly-poly. We imagined
that at least we should be cast indefinitely into
prison. That terrible keeper is living still, and
whenever I see him we have a laugh over those
old adventurous days.

I grew up in an atmosphere of dogs, traps, and
guns. My father had a small shoot, which pro-
duced chiefly partridges, hares, and a few pheasants
and rabbits ; and on this shoot I spent most of my
time that was not taken up with things more impor-
tant than sport. At every opportunity I sought the
society of the keepers in the neighbourhood of my
home, accompanied them on their rounds, and spent
many happy days with them, ferreting, in the winter
holidays. The art of trapping simply fascinated me.

HOW I BECAME A KEEPER 3

And how I envied the keeper his life and his pound
a week ! Then I saw only the bright side of the
calling ; I knew nothing of its ruggedness, its ups
and downs, its constant worries, its bitter disappoint-
ments and quiet joys. Little did I think that one
day my boyish dreams were to be fulfilled, even to
living on less than a pound a week.

My first attempt at firing a gun came about in
this way : My brother and I purloined a cartridge,
withdrew the charge, and reloaded the case on a
very small scale. We then shut ourselves in the
harness-room, to reduce the risk of detection, placed
an empty tin on the mantelpiece, and, after much
discussion, hesitation, and blinking of eyes, I loosed
off. What a fright we had ! for the shot rebounded
on to us pretty smartly. However, we were
tremendously proud of a dent in that tin. We were
allowed soon after this to amuse ourselves with a
pair of old muzzle-loaders and — caps only — and with
these we blew out tremendous bags of candles.
Then we would hold mimic shooting-parties. My
sister represented the beaters ; the shrubs were our
coverts ; blackbirds and thrushes our pheasants ;
the smaller birds our partridges ; the household
cat, often much against her will, was made to
act the part of a hare ; and we imagined an occa-
sional woodcock. After I was thirteen I shot a
good deal, doing my share towards proving that it
was possible to hit a driven partridge.

4 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

But there arose the question of what I should
do. There was an opportunity to enter the Bank
of England, and I might have gone into the Church,
with a fair prospect of becoming a Minor Canon.
And there are many people still living who do not
realize how thankful they should be that I became
eventually a slayer of vermin, and not a doctor.
Rebelling against all that meant town life — to me
what caged existence must be to a wild bird — I
decided to take the chance that came along, though,
strictly speaking, it did not come along, because I
went after it. I began at fifteen shillings a week—
not a princely salary, but by careful management I
lived on it. And by careful management I mean
that the expenditure literally of every halfpenny
required consideration. Still, of the three good
things of life, I enjoyed health and happiness, and
I felt quite rich when I got a rise of three shillings
a week. I have not the smallest regret that I
plunged into the game-keeping life. At first,
naturally, I found its un fathomed waters somewhat
like a cold bath on a winter morning. But whether
it be a first attempt at game-keeping or a morning
dip in winter that is accomplished successfully, there
follows a glow of satisfaction.

To provide shooting for others, I quickly found,
called for skill more complex and interesting than
to fire many successful shots myself. Occasionally,
when at a sporting beat the shooting has been

HOW I BECAME A KEEPER 5

execrable, I would feel — well, how could I help
feeling otherwise ? Whatever may have been my
successes in other directions, from first to last I was
a hopeless failure at touching my cap, or my hair,
or my forehead, or whatever a keeper is supposed
to touch with that Jack-in-the-box movement of a
finger. Though I was scrupulously polite to those
who were my superiors for the time being, I confess
that I never tried very hard to master the finger
trick : it always seemed to me so suggestive of a
tip. A man must be prepared to ignore absolutely
his own friends and relations while on duty — that is
to say, in the presence of his employer or his guests.
I made it an inflexible rule never to presume in any
way, or to take the least advantage of the thought that
in private life I was perhaps not greatly inferior to
those with whom I sometimes was brought into
official contact.

The best start on the game-keeping road for a
man outside the ordinary recruiting ranks is a
course of instruction on a game-farm, because,
should he discover that, after all, he would rather
not pursue the attempt further, he can give it up,
and resume his former social position without let or
hindrance : he has been only a pupil on a game-
farm. But when once he has become a real keeper,
worn livery, and taken any tips he is so lucky as to
have offered him — well, that might be another thing
altogether to those who fear the bunkers of con-

6 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

ventionality. Another reason for suggesting an
apprenticeship on a game-farm is that a man can
learn thereon in the quickest way the art — and the
drudgery — of pheasant-rearing ; and in these days
of gluttonous shooting a knowledge of the hand-
rearing of pheasants is indispensable to a game-
keeper's education. Look at the advertisements
of keepers seeking berths. In nine cases out of
ten you will see words to this effect : ' Thoroughly
experienced in the management of aviaries and the
rearing of pheasants.' If a man who applied for a
post were known to be well up in other branches
of a keeper's craft, but lacked knowledge of
pheasant-rearing, what would be his chance of
getting the ordinary berth ? Pheasant-rearing, after
all is said and done, means only an advanced know-
ledge of chicken-rearing. But it is in his other
duties that a keeper has the best opportunity to
show skill, judgment, tact, power of observation,
and ability to organize and to lead — the likely fruits
of a good education.

A head- keeper has far more responsibility than
most people imagine. Naturally, he expects to bear
the blame for his own mistakes ; but, as a matter
of fact, he is held responsible for the negligence,
stupidity, carelessness, or ignorance of his subordi-
nates, and even of his employer. The conduct of
his first shooting-party, as commander-in-chief, is
an ordeal by fire, and many a keeper could testify

HOW I BECAME A KEEPER 7

that it has proved so in a literal sense. In theory
it may be easy enough to plan out the arrangements
for a day's shooting, but to carry them out free from
hitch is quite otherwise. Think of the distracting
surroundings ! Guns are wanting to know where to
go in a way that suggests that so long as they are
all right, nothing else matters ; someone whom you
have never seen before, whose name you do not
even know, is asking where ' my ' cartridges are ;
while another is repeating that he knows a bird is
dead, and though he vouchsafes no further informa-
tion, gives the impression that he will not be too
well pleased if a search-party be not organized
forthwith, If you order the beaters to move on
by themselves to the next beat, often they lose
themselves or blunder horribly.

Without the unnecessary worry ings to which
usually he is subjected a keeper has quite enough
details to think of all the time ; and not one of them
must be forgotten, or a whole day's sport may be
ruined.

CHAPTER II

ON A PARTRIDGE BEAT

My first beat — The farmer — 'Enry the carter — His brother-in-law's
rabbit-shooting and mine — A novel puncture — A good ratting
ferret — End of a poaching cat — Foxes — I catch egg-stealers —
Gipsies — Egg trickery and gratuitous advice.

MY first regular keepering job was to look after
partridge ground. I had the sole charge of it — and
the sole responsibility ; so that whatever of blame
or credit was to be had, I knew I should be liable
to full measure. I was standing at one and the
same time on the lowest and the topmost rungs
of the game-keeping ladder. Possibly I should not
have got the job at all if partridges then had been
thought of as highly as they are now.

The process of moving into my official residence
produced no exciting incident. Probably the most
valuable piece of furniture was my gun — certainly
it was the most treasured. The item of that day
of moving which has left the most vivid recollec-
tion was the first meal in my game-keeping abode.
There had been no time for midday indulgence,
so I was treated to a meat tea, the chief dish of

ON A PARTRIDGE BEAT 9

which was a savoury hash of pork and onions, and
I enjoyed it probably as much as did Esau the price
of his birthright.

For the first year we had the front part of an
old farmhouse — two rooms, a large general-purpose
outhouse (formerly the dairy), with a third of the
garden. This accommodation, as is the custom with
keepers, was part of my wages. The rent in any
case would not have been more than eighteenpence
a week ; still, even that would have made a big
hole in my fifteen shillings a week.

My domain consisted of about a thousand acres
in the north of Hampshire, my native county.
Unfortunately, it did not all lie in one block : one
part, some two hundred and fifty acres, was a mile
away from the rest. As some set-off to this dis-
advantage, I lived about half-way between the two.
The lie of the larger portion was fairly open, and
the soil light. It was intersected by four by-roads,
which crossed near the centre, and one side was
bounded by a turnpike. The fields were big and
the hedges few ; with the exception of four, all the
hedges were low, so that a considerable panoramic
view was to be had from most points.

The prospects certainly were not very encouraging,
since the biggest bag for one day during the pre-
ceding season was six and a half brace. This may
have been due to a variety of causes other than
proportionate scarcity of birds. I knew that in the

io TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

memory of living men the shoot had yielded three
to four hundred brace a season. Six and a half
brace set no impossible standard ; at any rate, I
could not bring about a result much worse.

Since I was more or less familiar with the smaller
portion of my ground, my first act of game-keeping
was to make, on the morning following my removal,
a long tour of inspection over the main portion,
which was one big farm. I encountered a farmer,
of whom I took special stock, knowing full well
that much depended on how we got on together.
I saw at once that he was a consequential sort of
man, and evidently under the impression that he
understood most other things as well as he did
farming. He had a large family, which when I
ceased my connection with his farm apparently had
come to a conclusion at five brace. Small wonder
that his manner was somewhat autocratic when
dealing with outsiders ! He struck me as being
just the sort of man who, with a little more practical
knowledge of the requirements of game and a little
more tact, would have been an ideal farmer in a
keeper's eyes. He told his men in the most
truculent tone, which made me want to blush, that
he had let his shooting, and ' if e'er a one on ye
gets slippin' down wires or anyways playin' the fool,
off you goes to gaol, mind, sharp !'

He possessed the most scrupulous reverence for
hospitality in a liquid form, and at our first interview

ON A PARTRIDGE BEAT n

lodged a petition that I would not fail to test the
resources of his cellar whenever I felt inclined.
Unfortunately, he stocked only beer, milk, and
spirits, liquids I love not ; so that, though I was
often thirsty, I had to forgo what was a pleasure
to him to give. I could not convince him that it
was possible for tastes to differ. He regarded it as
a solemn rite to drink with a guest, and he never
failed to say, ' 'Ere's luck !'

A man of very uncertain temper, he was much
given to sudden sackings of his men, though he
never allowed the sun to go down upon his wrath.
The sacked one would come, as bidden, to the farm-
house, and say that he wanted to see the * ma-aster,'
who would appear, looking very much surprised to
see the man, and ask :

* Well, So-and-so, what ^Q you want ?'

' Please, I be come for my money — the same as you
told I,' the man would answer, in an injured tone.

' Then in the marnin' you'd better take and start
scarifyin' they vallers in Pink's Garner wi' old Vilet
and Jew'l.' (Aside : ' Draw 'Enry a drop o' beer.')
Good-night, 'Enry/

These are a fair sample of the words in which
he would complete a sacking.

This 'Enry was the head-carter, and he had been
sacked and reinstated times without number. He
boasted that he could rely on having a ' smartish
set-to ' during the sowing of corn, haymaking, and

12 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

harvest, with * a few odd uns throw'd in, like.'
Whenever there arrived an addition to the farmer's
family, the carter, who declared the event marked
the time for sowing * wutts ' (oats), was invited to a
private view, and, of course, to offer a libation. The
ceremony over, he would retire more or less in the
direction of his cottage, repeating : * 'Tis a right
down fine youngster, an5 no mistake ! Don't know
as ever I see'd a finer. . . .' On the ninth occasion
of this sort he felt that his customary eulogy was
not justified, and turned to the fond mother and
said : ' I'm blow'd if I don't pretty near think this
un's the darl*!'

My instructions were that the Ground Game Act
was to be a dead-letter so far as hares were con-
cerned, and that, in return, the shooting tenant
undertook to get down the rabbits, and to keep
them down. There was one small covert of six
acres, in which there were only a few rabbits ; but
on the other side of the farm were three dells, hold-
ing strong colonies. Luckily, since it was well on
in the spring, these dells were fairly free from
herbage and undergrowth, so I was able to deal
with the rabbits with ferrets and gun ; and by
spending the best part of a day at each dell, I made
a highly appreciated reduction in the number of the
rabbits. On one occasion I had been digging for a
ferret, but found when I got to where it should have

* The last.

ON A PARTRIDGE BEAT 13

been that it had left the rabbit, and gone, as proved
to be the case, in pursuit of another. Leaving my
brand-new keeper's coat where I had thrown it
down before beginning to dig, I nipped up to the
spot where my gun was, from which I could com-
mand all exits from the dell. Scarcely had I
reached it, when out dashed an old buck, and tore
round the side of the dell like the wind. Bang !
and he turned a masterly somersault. On going
to pick up that rabbit — and my coat — I found that
about a hundred pellets had provided ventilation for
my left arm. When I got home everyone, seeing
the state of my sleeve, wasted sympathy on my poor
arm. I thanked them, and said I felt very thankful
that it was not my right arm. This reminds me
that not long afterwards I punctured one of my
bicycle tyres in a rather original way. I had left the
machine leaning against the outside of the wood
while I went round to try and get a shot at a rabbit.
I came up a track which went through the covert,
looked cautiously outside, made sure I saw a rabbit,
and fired. When I went to pick it up, I not only
discovered no rabbit, but that I had to walk the
three miles home, pushing my bicycle.

But to return to the rabbits in the dells : By
means of bunnies of all sizes and conditions, I was
able to provide the farm-hands with several rounds
of rabbit c pudd'n,' and thus got a useful start on
the road to their hearts. The head-carter was so

14 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

touched that he confided to me that his brother-in-
law could "andle a gun jest about,' and that the
year before, during the cutting of a piece of ' earn
over against yonder beechen belt,' he had shot no
fewer than seven rabbits in succession. The setting
of so high a standard made me feel a bit nervous
for my own reputation, till I discovered that the
aforesaid brother-in-law had waited till each rabbit
stopped and ' set up.' He simply ignored those
that did not stop to ' set up,' or did not ' set up '
long enough for him to align his piece. However,
it was not long before I blotted out the brother-in-
law's record. It was on the occasion of the cutting
of some rye-grass. I felt like burying my head in
a hare-pocket when 'Enry, the head-carter (he of
the ' wutts ' and ' darls '), told his mates that ' he
was blest if ever in all 'is life he'd seen sich a feller
to shoot. Whether they be a-runnin' strite or
caperin' like bla-azes all over the shop, he do jest
about cocksteddle 'em over— there b'ain't no mistake
about that.'

Of course, I had lost no time in making the
acquaintance of the famous brother-in-law. There
might be wrinkles to be gained, I thought, even
from a man who shot seven ' set-up ' rabbits in
succession. Another thing : he had permission to
take a gun with him to work, for the purpose of
scaring rooks and pigeons, and shooting any of
them he could. He was rather beyond the middle

ON A PARTRIDGE BEAT 15

of life, and his manner implied that he was quite
cunning enough for his years. In his youth, he
said, he had been in the army, and that beneath
the back of his trousers was evidence of a sabre-
slash, while it was another wound, he vowed, that
caused him to speak as if he had a perpetual
stomach-ache. His gun certainly appeared to have
been made about the time of the Crimean War.
The one barrel of the weapon was bound with
string, though, he assured me, * she was as safe as a
church, and shot turr'ble 'ard if you didn't 'urry 'er.'
On condition that he drew the charge and reloaded
her in my presence, I one evening volunteered to
try to shoot the old chap a rabbit — not, as he
explained, that he was over-fond of rabbits, but
merely that he * didn't mind the hind leg of one
now an' t'an for a change/ I had an easy crossing
shot at about five-and-twenty yards, and, by simply
hauling at the trigger, got ' her ' off within five
minutes of the rabbit's disappearance into shelter.
Then I realized what a feat it must have been to
kill seven * set-up ' rabbits in succession ! But there
is no telling what application will not accomplish.
Thus it came to pass that I actually succeeded in
killing a flying wood-pigeon with the old fellow's
gun. It is only fair to myself to say that the
calculations involved were elaborate and big, the
chief of which was to begin hauling at the trigger with
as many fingers as the guard would admit so soon

16 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

as the pigeon came in sight, in this case on the far
side of a big field.

There were a good many rats about, chiefly in
some barley-ricks dotted about the farm. Ferreting
rats in corn-ricks is always likely to prove un-
satisfactory, because of the difficulty of killing a
decent proportion of the rats and of securing the
ferrets. Here again I was lucky. I had two pole-
cat dog ferrets — brothers. One of them was a capital
line ferret, and would hang on to rat or rabbit for
hours. His brother, quite useless for line work,
was an ideal ferret for loose work, and, curiously
enough, he never would stay with a rat or a rabbit,
nor would he often bite it. The rats I mentioned
just now lived for the most part in the roofs of the
ricks, which I would visit about twice a week with
the loose-working ferret and my gun. And fine
sport we had. He was a knowing ferret. I had
only to toss the old chap on to the roof of a rick,
and be ready for rats. He would range over the
thatch till he winded a rat, when he would point for
a moment before diving in and evicting Mr. Decu-
manus. By trapping at every likely spot round the
ricks, and in tunnels and so forth in the hedges, I
managed to overcome the rats.

There were, too, many magpies, and at one 01
them I made the flukiest shot of my life. Though
I did not measure it, honestly I should think it was
very little short of a hundred yards. I never could

ON A PARTRIDGE BEAT 17

get near this particular magpie, and this made me
feel sure his sins were even greater than I knew
them to be. One day, in the middle of the after-
noon, I saw him flying leisurely, as is the way of
magpies, towards my little wood, where he alighted
on the top of a tree, of course — no doubt where he,
and certainly I, thought he was safe. So far off was
he that he showed no objection to my walking in
full view to the edge of the wood. I felt I was
being jeered at, so I let drive at a venture in the
direction of the top of the tree. And down came
that magpie as if electrocuted.

Of stoats and weasels there was a fair stock ; but
by careful trapping in the hedges and around hay
and corn ricks I cleared off the local supply for
the time being; that is, till after the hatching
season. The desolation which a litter of stoats can
effect in a hedge well packed with partridge nests
is enough to change a keeper's hair from black to
white ; and since as a rule on partridge ground
rabbits are available only here and there, stoats do
infinitely more harm to winged game than in a
wood. Whatever the ' brother-in-law's ' inclinations
to lapse from the unexciting pursuit of agriculture,
he was one of Nature's sportsmen, and he was ever
on the look-out for ' varmints ' of any sort. I came
to him one day when he was spreading manure, and
he told me he had bagged a crane in the course of
his work. Never having heard of more than two

2

iS TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

sorts of cranes — the implement for lifting and the
bird — I concluded that he meant by a crane a
heron. He went on to describe how his crane ran
out of a manure-heap. I became very much in-
terested. After a deal of cross-examining, during
which the old chap showed some irritation at my
pardonable scepticism, I got out of him that his
crane was a weasel, or * wizzel,' as Hampshire folks
say. (I did not then know that weasels and stoats
in some localities are called cranes.)

Here is an account of how old B., the 'brother-
in-law,' relieved me of responsibility in the matter
of a poaching cat. Poaching cats were included,
with gipsies, among the things he ' couldn't a-bear
nohow.' The excursions of a large black cat belong-
ing to a cluster of cottages (precisely to which one
I preferred not to find out) had attracted my atten-
tion ; so I decided to set a trap in a likely hedge,
which, in fact, proved to be more than likely, for
while I was struggling to get a peg into the stony
bank, I saw black Thomas a quarter of a mile away,
apparently prowling up the hedge. To shorten this
cat's history, I was making my way along the
hedge betimes next morning when I saw someone
coming from the opposite direction. A few more
yards, and he would reach my trap. I took cover,
knowing that if the cat was caught, and the man did
not let it out of the trap, he was certain to let it out
of the bag, which was worse. Here was a pretty

ON A PARTRIDGE BEAT 19

business. Another second, and a great rolling cloud
of smoke enveloped the figure of the man. Then
came a bang. Two poachers, perhaps, with one trap,
I thought. Whoever the man was, he had now got
clear of the smoke-fog, and was coming towards me.
Nothing could be better, I thought, and kept my
cover. The mysterious man turned out to be none
other than old B. Waiting till he was within a yard
of me, I asked without any warning, and in the
gruffest of official tones, what he was up to. ' I
b'lieve I've killed the old gentleman/ said old B.
in an unusually guttural voice, so soon as he
recovered from the surprise of seeing me. He
explained his cryptic reply, and went on his way,
while I went and put things straight. Old B. had
spotted the black cat in the hedge, and being * set-
up,' he let drive at it ; then, his superstition (luckily
for me) got the better of his curiosity, and he came
on without inspecting the cat. It was not till years
afterwards that he knew the cat was in my trap
when he shot it.

It was a mercy that foxes did not worry me in
this first season of working up a run-down shoot.
I had to preserve foxes as well as game. Their
absence probably was due to the same cause as
that of game — the preceding period of comparative
anarchy. To dig out a litter of cubs and sell them
for ten shillings each is a far more profitable and
less risky venture than to poach for a few rabbits.

2 — 2

20 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

Anyway, the next season brought unmistakable
improvement in the matter of foxes, to which it will
be my painful duty to allude elsewhere. My first
season was the only one during which I never lost a
nest by foxes.

Human egg-stealers are very difficult to catch in
such a way that their guilt may be proved. Conse-
quently, I was very keen on making a capture.
One Sunday morning, by sheer luck, I saw two
suspicious-looking men enter my little covert. Now,
I thought, was my chance ; what would hide their
movements would hide mine. I gained the edge of
the covert and listened. Didn't my heart thump
when I heard a stealthy movement through the
stuff! It thumped still more when I heard a voice
say, * 'Ere's one, Bill.' ' How many ?' asked Bill.
* Only four,' his companion answered. Timing my
interruption to coincide with the lifting of the four
eggs, I introduced myself to Bill and his mate with
the suggestion that they had better leave them
alone. Picture my disappointment when those four
eggs turned out to be blue, with black spots at the
thick end !

Here I must refer to a regrettable practice of the
farmer, who, as I have said before, with slight
alterations, might have been an ideal farmer from
the gamekeeper's point of view. He never was
without a fair stock of gipsies on the farm : not that
he had any special personal regard for them, but

ON A PARTRIDGE BEAT 21

more, I think, because they acted as a lever in
dealing with the regular farm-hands. He would
allow about two men, three women, and the usual
cluster of children to camp on the farm, and gave
them work or not, as he chose. Other things, I
knew only too well, they took. He gave out that
no unauthorized gipsy was to set foot on his land,
by which he meant well ; but I never could convince
him that if the old proverb about birds of a feather
applied to anything that could not fly, it applied to
gipsies. So I was continually harassed by an assort-
ment of gipsies, and, though the farmer talked a
good deal, the brunt of dealing with them fell to my
lot, much to my disgust. I would rather paunch
a hundred mangled rabbits than touch a gipsy with
the tip of a finger. The distant whiff of a gipsy
is enough, and lodges in one's gullet with more
persistency than fresh paint.

Gipsies, however, are not so renowned for their
pluck, though, judging by the produce of their
mouths, one might imagine that they possessed the
blood of lions. Had I received half the good
things promised me by gipsies, I should have died
a thousand terrible deaths. I remember a burly-
looking gipsy who was so impudent as to come into
a harvest-field just before the finish of cutting, and
with him he actually had the cheek to bring a
lurcher. I went up to him, and, in the polite but
firm manner which I have ever made it a rule to

22 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

assume, requested him to leave the field and take
his dog with him. He refused with offensive arro-
gance. With the same politeness, but with increased
firmness, I explained that, if he felt unable to
take himself off, I should feel bound to assist him.
Whereupon he informed me that, sooner than go for
me, he would see his liver torn out and flung on the
ground. (He might have known that I should not
hang on to any part of him a moment longer than
necessary.) But go he did — liver, dog, and all —
leaving only his scent to be carried away by the
evening breeze.

The only occasion that I discovered when gipsies
are a help to the keeper is when he has a difficulty
in tainting out a colony of rabbits. Rabbits may
refuse to be evicted by tar and so forth, but simply
cannot abide the attar of gipsies. To evict the most
obstinate bunnies, all that is necessary is to encamp
a gang of gipsies on their burrow. I have in mind
a burrow where the ground was undiggable. It
was thoroughly ' gipped,' and after five years, though
a rabbit may pay a call occasionally, none has taken
up its abode there to this day of writing. The
aversion of rabbits to gipsies, the latter often tried
to persuade me, is reciprocated ; I have yet to meet
the gipsy who will not swear that he or she prefers
a hedgehog to a rabbit any day.

People tried all sorts of tricks on me, one of
which was for men who were mowing grass to bring

ON A PARTRIDGE BEAT 23

me, presumably, two lots of about eight partridge
eggs- Of course, they would swear each lot of eggs
came from a separate nest. It was impossible to
prove otherwise, and it would have been bad policy
to have hinted too broadly at trickery, however
strongly one might suspect it. All partridge eggs
are very much the same to the ordinary eye, but
one generally can detect a similarity of shape among
the eggs laid by individual birds. If the number of
small clutches brought in seemed to me to be un-
reasonable, and especially if the eggs in alleged
separate nests bore a family resemblance, I would
say that funds would not run to the customary
shilling reward, except for respectable clutches. I
had to listen to a good deal of gratuitous advice —
more from a sense of politeness and diplomacy than
because of its usefulness. One special hint, given
just as the partridges were beginning to lay, was to
the effect that all the keepers with whom my in-
formant had had any ' concerns ' lost no time in
pressing at least a shilling into the hand of the
finder so soon as a nest was found. My rule
continued to be to pay a shilling for each nest of
eggs, when safely hatched, if found in a reasonably
legitimate way. It was only in very exceptional
cases that I departed from this rule.

Another plan to encourage the care of game was
to give threepence for the right ear-tip of leverets.
One man produced four ear-tips, and I gave him

24 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

sixpence. He stared, and I asked him what was
the matter. He said he wanted another sixpence,
on the ground that four threes are twelve. I
reminded him of the rule to pay for right ear-tips
only. He saw that I knew more than he bargained
for about the ears of hares of all ages, and suggested
that he ' must have forgot what he was got at.' I
gave him another sixpence, and told him never
again to forget * what he was got at.'

CHAPTER III

MY FIRST SHOOT

Sweet September — Estimating birds — A night out — False alarms —
Hungry, wet, and weary — The First — Bubble bags — A lurcher —
My friend the shepherd— Ten-thirty— Who knows best? — My
first tip — Forty and a half brace !

THIS important event took place on a fine September
day in the year 1897 (memorable also for the
Diamond Jubilee). It was the event of my first
season as a full-blown keeper, with responsibilities
and all the rest of it of my very own. Great was
the pleasure of anticipation ; greater still the relief
when it was over. First of all I must give some
description of the context of that day of fadeless
memory. It is never the easiest thing in the world
to form a correct estimate of the number of partridges
on a given acreage of ground, especially before the
shooting season, and when corn is still standing in
big open fields. Certainly, I knew that I had some
birds — more than enough, I hoped, to make a bag
of six and a half brace ; in fact, that there were
several fine coveys. That in all there were so

25

26 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

many birds to so many acres was what I could not
feel sure of.

Already I had had plenty of experience of
labourers and others who, after seeing two or three
decent coveys (possibly the same covey over again),
not only think, but make publicly known, that a
place is swarming with birds, or, as one old fellow
put it, 'there's 'osales o' birds/ I swallowed it all
with a good deal of salt, knowing that the test of
the partridge pudding comes in September. I
never knew a good keeper who was given to ex-
aggerating his partridge prospects ; in other words,
a man given to that form of exaggeration is seldom
a good keeper.

Twenty brace of partridges to a party of four or
five guns was quite a bumper bag in the days and
locality of which I am writing. However, when
the prospects for my first day came to be discussed
at headquarters, I felt confident enough to suggest
a possibility of twenty brace, if the day were fine
and the guns passable. Often I have thought since
how fortunate it is that few are the days of Septem-
ber with fine weather, plenty of good cover, lazy
partridges, and skilled, active guns, armed, as is
now the fashion, with a pair of ejectors. Partridges
could not stand much of that. It readily will be
imagined into what a state of suppressed excitement
I got as the First drew near, with its prospect of
active service and of the harvest of those long

THERE'S MANY A SLIP BETWEEN A. GOOD HATCH AND
SEPTEMBER.

WHAT A FOX LEFT OF A PHEASANT SITTING ON FOURTEEN
EGGS.

MY FIRST SHOOT 27

months of hard labour. I had worked, as it were,
day and night in the cause of partridges. With
infinite care I had bushed and watched the favourite
roosting parts, although there was no great likeli-
hood of netting. Still, I grew more determined
than ever as the days of reckoning drew near not
to let slip what reward might be mine. The first
day's shooting was fixed for the second of Septem-
ber, so I decided to put in the whole of the last
night of August in the field with my partridges.
I even made a vow to forgo the consolation of my
pipe, for fear of giving away my presence. My
object was not to scare poachers, but to catch them,
so that I might appear early in the morning of the
First with a heavy and perfectly legitimate bag.

I set out about half-past seven, after a mixture
of tea and supper, taking further supplies of food
in my pocket. I took with me also an old-fashioned
cloth-faced mackintosh of the Inverness pattern
(which, on acquiring a * Burberry/ I sold for half
a crown). The earlier part of that night was not
so bad, though there was no suggestion of balmi-
ness in the air. Things grew worse. It began
to rain and blow. For hours and hours I walked
about in the darkness — in the cold, the wet, and
the wind. It was not possible to see much, while
as for hearing — well, I could hear enough to make
me think anything was happening. A mouse
rustling in a hedge ; a straw swaying and grating

28 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

on a thistle-stem ; the passage of a rat from one
rick to another; the call of peewits; the rush of
a hurrying hare — there were dozens of sounds
which by day would have passed unheeded, but
then were absurdly magnified and garbled by my
straining ears.

Once, while I was sheltering by a heap of straw
on the edge of an old cartway, I felt certain that
I could hear the crunching sound of men's feet
coming toward me. By Jove! didn't my heart
thump. But no partridge-netters came to break
the dreariness of that dark, cheerless night. I
never discovered the cause of my disappointment,
though to this day I am sure I heard the stealthy
tramp of human feet, possibly the ghostly feet of
dead poachers. And so for that night passed the
sole prospect of covering myself with glory and
bespattered brains, and, incidentally, of getting
warm. Morning seemed as if it never were coming.
Long ago I had eaten the last crumb of food, and
felt I would have paid a premium price for the top
of a loaf. At least two solid supplementary meals
are required to carry one through a night. As
there was now no likelihood of netters — for whom,
to tell the honest truth, I had become quite sick of
waiting — I sought shelter and less cold by crouching
against the lee-side of a corn-rick. But everything
was dripping wet, and the wind seemed to be
playing a game of blind-man's buff round that rick ;

MY FIRST SHOOT 29

so that, no matter how I shifted my position, the
crisis came just where I was. I tried to kill time
by sleep, but it was a wretched business. There
was no forgetting that I was hungry, damp (to say
the least of it), and cold — stiff and sleepless with
cold. I would have gone home had I not suspected
that shots might be fired at drowsy coveys making
their way to breakfast in the grey light of dawn.
Once dawn had come, it would not be long before
farm-hands would be stirring about the fields, and
poaching would be unnecessarily risky.

At last, hungry, cold, and weary of watching, but
with a sense of moral triumph and self-conquest, I
started for home. I must confess that during that
weary trudge I felt that nothing but a guarantee of
an exceptional First, glorious both in birds and
weather, would have induced me to relish a prospect
of spending the rest of the day shooting. However,
a wash, dry clothes, and breakfast worked wonders.
And long before the modern hour for starting
shooting my keenness was normal, and I was off
again to my partridge fields. The night that was
past I thought of merely as a dream.

The shooting on all sides beyond the boundary
was let, and it was not long before I heard pop,
pop-pop, pop — pop — pop, each shot a note of
music, each volley a delicious chord. In all direc-
tions beyond my marches I heard parties saluting
sweet September. I thought they must be getting

30 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

all sorts of fine bags ; for, not unnaturally, I judged
the result of their blazing by a flattering standard.
It never dawned on me but that each supposed
covey rose at the toes of the shooters, that each
of them scored a double, and that each volley
meant several brace in the bag. My curiosity grew
apace, and it was not long before I found myself
in a gap in a boundary fence, from which I was
able, much to my relief, to burst my bubble notions
of the next-door bag. Each bird that rose was
saluted by a double shot, apparently from any of
the party who saw it, and quite irrespective of
range ; and I doubt not that it would have met
with the same indignity if seen on the ground.
Fortunately, these people were not only bad sports-
men, but bad shots — a detestable combination.
There was another feature in their plan of cam-
paign which quickly attracted my attention — their
dogs, one of which struck me as — well, unusual,
to say the least of it. But I was unable to solve
the mystery of this dog till the party worked round
the outside turn nearest the boundary. A hare got
up as the line was wheeling in a very go-as-you-
please formation, but, as the gunners were caught
napping, did not receive their united attention till
it was a good seventy or eighty yards distant, end
on. The hare went on. Whereupon, to my intense
surprise, the unusual-looking dog was loosed —
a pot-house lurcher. How my blood boiled ! how

MY FIRST SHOOT 31

I ground impotent teeth at that ghastly sight !
They did not send the dog for a badly-wounded
hare from motive of mercy, but simply in the
hope that they might yet secure it for their pot,
after failing at an easy chance to bag it themselves.
How I should have revelled in sending a charge
of shot at the middle of each of those retreating
apologies for sportsmen ! Consoling myself with
the old adage that what the eye does not see the
heart does not grieve for, I walked away from
sight of this blood-curdling business.

The rest of the day I spent in perfecting my
plans for the morrow, and while I was so doing met
my friend the shepherd, a burly middle-aged man
who loved a pint of beer and a fight about equally
well, and next to these a rabbit 'pudd'n.' He had
great news for me. Here it is in his own words :

" Me an' t' ould dawg was a-blunderin' along,
as t' sayin' is, acrorst they barley stubbs yarnder,
and thinkin' about noth'n' pertickler-like, when up
gits the doocedest girt mess o' birds as ever I set
eyes on in all my barn days. I thought they was
starluns when they riz up. Howsomedever, summat
made me screw m' eyes on 'em a liddle tighter, an'
I sez to meself an' ter t' ould dog, "Why, I'll be
jiggered if they ain't pairtridges." I had been
lucky with some * setty ' eggs cut out in the mowing
of grass for hay, and had turned down the proceeds
along the edge of a big piece of barley. I handed

32 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

a rabbit which I happened to have in my pocket to
the shepherd, and each of us went his way rejoicing.
Probably my experience of the previous night
accounted for my getting some sleep during the
night immediately preceding the second day of
September. The hour for meeting the guns was
10.30, but long before then I was ready and waiting,
my boots brushed till their polish began to depre-
ciate, and my box-cloth gaiters spotless. I had
with me, to help, a sport-loving farm-hand, who had
been my colleague through the winter while ferret-
ing rabbits. He was as good a hand at marking
the fall of a bird as it has been my lot to meet.
Each of us had a partridge-carrier, which we hoped
to fill, and I had the only dog I possessed, a young
rough-curly retriever, trained to the stage when,
though useful, she was still much too inclined to
amuse herself with hares and rabbits, and in other
uncertain ways. I kept her in tow by a rope round
my waist, so that if she ' went ' she had to take me
with her. Well, to cut a long story short, the guns
arrived on the late side of 10.30, as is often the
way of guns who drive while the keeper walks.
Not having been accustomed to the regulation
method of salute, I lifted my cap nearly off my
head, which, since there was no intimation to the
contrary, I suppose was appreciated. And there
was an ominous pause preceding the € sir ' when I
returned the individual 'Good-mornings.' However,

MY FIRST SHOOT 33

it was a glorious morning, and everyone seemed in
good humour. I quickly put the guns together,
shouldered a burden of cartridge-bags, and off we
went.

For the first beat we spread out over a big field
consisting mostly of stubble, the right-hand gun
forward under a long belt of beeches, which was
the boundary. The object was to push the birds
— if there were any — into a very long narrow strip
of ripening rye-grass, on the far side of a high
hedge. This grass was the only piece of holding
cover ; still, it provided not only cover, but food
for the birds, which therefore took to it the more
readily. I cannot explain how great was my relief
when the first covey was flushed, almost at the feet
of the right-hand outside gun. The birds probably
were dusting on the margin of the belt. Only one
bird was bagged. We saw one good covey and
two small lots on all that wide field, probably over
sixty acres. If I did not feel disappointed, I very
nearly did. Had we seen another covey or two,
it would not have been so bad, even if they had
risen miles out of shot. All I knew for certain
was that my fate hung on that strip of rye-grass.

But, as it turned out, hundreds of birds must
have run on through the hedge into the grass, or
have been there before we began shooting. The
strip was only wide enough for one beat, but it
must have been a third of a mile long, so that

3

34 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

many of the birds that did not break sideways
pitched in it again. If all my five guns had been
useful, our two double-rowed partridge-carriers
would have been full before we reached the end
of that strip of grass. The most exciting episode
was when there were seven birds down, five of
which proved to be runners — and we got them all.
Another incident of note was the * browning ' of a
big covey which rose out of fair range. Three birds
more or less ' towered ' after flying some distance
apparently untouched. We had finished the rye-
grass for the time being, and lunch would be in
ten minutes. I advised a d6tour of a couple of
hundred yards, which would sweep the scattered
birds into the grass, while I searched for the three
1 browned ' birds. But no : it was preferred to
walk straight ahead, and, as I said, drive most of
the birds over the boundary, for the sake of walking
an extra two hundred yards. I was almost sorry
that I had found the three birds by the time the
firing-line returned to tell me — quite unnecessarily
— that they had had only a few shots, but had put
a good two hundred partridges over the boundary.

There was some excitement after lunch, when one
of the guns ' cracked his duck/ so to speak, on a
cheeper. I believe it was subsequent to the suppres-
sion of that cheeper that he got into Parliament and
bagged a title. I remember much more distinctly
that he left before we had finished shooting ; that I

MY FIRST SHOOT 35

offered to fetch his coat from a cottage ; and, most
important of all, that he thrust a five-shilling piece
into my hand. Whereat I felt so opulent that, in
spite of so great an increase to an already heavy
load, my boots felt like pumps for the rest of the
day.

Apart from my soreness at the loss of a good two
hundred partridges driven over the boundary, which
was very far from being my fault, everything went
well with me that day — even to a total absence of
regrettable incidents on the part of my dog. And
when we counted the bag, there were forty and a half
brace of birds and a score of hares. I reached home
to find that the fame of the day had gone before.
Till I went to sleep that night I talked of nothing
but partridges, tips, and 'ifs.' It was a great stroke
of luck that my first season turned out meet to
be recorded in red ink. From that first shoot I
never looked back on my determination to make
game-keeping a success.

3—2

CHAPTER IV

PARTRIDGES

Their popularity and thrift — Their comparative scarcity — How they
are persecuted — Thoughtless shooters — Partridges pay for atten-
tion— Birds in bad weather — Poverty of their food compared
to that of pheasants — Value of artificial feeding — Destruction of
nests — Cheap nesting cover — Coverts — Why always pheasants ?
— Dogs and nests— Faults of partridges — farmers and com-
pensation— A health to the bonny brown birds !

THERE is scarcely an acre in the whole country —
with the exception, of course, of the brick-and-
mortar department — on which plenty of partridges
could not make a living if they were allowed to
try ; there is scarcely a shoot on which there are
absolutely no partridges, and there are very few
shoots on which partridges receive a tithe of the
encouragement they deserve. And partridges surely
deserve every encouragement, in view of their
thrifty habits, their industry, their heroic efforts to
greet September with a smile, no matter how bad
a breeding season they have had to put up with ;
and, above all, in view of their superb abilities for
providing real sport in so many ways, both for rich
and poor. Because of their many points of all-

36

PARTRIDGES 37

round merit, I proclaim partridges the most attrac-
tive game - birds we possess. And I have no
hesitation in saying that they are likely to remain
so, and that they will grow in favour every year,
unless, indeed, English sportsmanship deteriorates,
and English gunners descend to shooting the sitting
blackbird, after the manner of Frenchmen.

Some may urge that the snipe is a more fascinating
bird than the partridge ; others may extol the
capricious favours of woodcock. Both these birds
are, I am afraid, far too local and fickle ever to oust
the partridge from its solid position. It must be
admitted, of course, that the shortcomings of the
long-bills — snipe particularly — are due largely to
the invasion of their haunts by men with drain-
pipes and bricks and mortar. One still comes across
men who say, in effect : ' Give me an old cock
pheasant rising from the shelter of a leafy turnip
or patch of brambles.' But they do not add the
reason — that they may shoot him by placing their
gun-barrels almost in actual contact with his plumage.
Such shooters may appreciate the vociferous and
sustained applause of the whole party, and the
intolerable incense of powder and fused feathers.
I abominate both.

Give me partridges, and plenty of them.

In judging numbers of partridges most people
overestimate to a ridiculous extent. They see two
or three passable coveys on a large farm, and call

38 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

them ' clouds of birds.' What, perhaps, has im-
pressed me most in the delightful years spent
among game-birds is the general scarcity of part-
ridges on the majority of shoots compared to the
supply there might be. Only here and there is
there partridge ground, reasonably suited to their
needs, which carries a tenth — even a hundredth —
of the birds there might be, and ought to be quite
easily. Simply because partridges try to help them-
selves they are generally denied the assistance which
is lavished on less deserving birds. Altogether, the
usual treatment which partridges meet with is totally
unwarranted and grossly unjust. It is crying aloud
for speedy improvement. Even I, in the wilds of
my beloved Hampshire, have heard of recent years
enough about ' social reform and betterment ' to
keep me going for the rest of my life. But I have
heard little of partridge reform. On the majority
of so-called partridge shoots what birds do manage
to exist are subjected, from one year's end to
another, to what amounts to nothing else than per-
secution by day and night. Moreover, the persecu-
tion during the legal shooting season is the worst
part of the whole thing. This is much more directly
under the control of the holders of sporting rights
than the more or less inevitable persecution by
vermin during the productive season.

Take the period of the year between February 2
and August 31 — what about the partridges then?

SECTION OF WOODCOCK'S WING SHOWING POSITION

OF 'PIN' FEATHER (EXPOSED).

ROOK AND PARTRIDGE WITH ABNORMAL UPPER MANDIBLE.
YOUNG WEASELS.

PARTRIDGES 39

Who knows ? Who cares ? Certainly not the
men who spend every day that the law allows them
during the remainder of the year pursuing any birds
which happen to be on their shoot. I really believe
that there must be men in existence who are under
the impression that partridges spring up, as it were,
spontaneously, after the manner of charlock plants ;
that is, sometimes there arise many and sometimes
few. On the general run of partridge ground there
is never anything like a stock of birds at the end of
the season. It is a melancholy fact that the same
remark applies in countless instances to capital
natural partridge ground, even on the First. Yet
the few people who realize how partridges respond
to careful protection and encouragement have been
reaping rich harvests. For instance, you hear, as in
a delicious dream of a fairyland of partridges, of a
week at Holkham, at The Grange, at Stratton, and
a few other places where partridges are estimated at
their proper value and treated accordingly.

But to return to the lucky survivors (many of
them cripples) of the preceding season on ordinary
partridge ground on February 2. How are they
faring in the bleak, wind-swept fields, covered often
for days together with snow, or adamant with frost ?
And who cares ? Perhaps the keeper — probably he
does not ; for, obviously, so far as practical care is
shown, the master makes the man. At any rate,
I feel pretty sure that the men who have been

40 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

blazing away at the birds to the bitter end are
the last to give the matter a thought. They are
content to leave what they are pleased to call a
stock to the mercy of the weather, generally the
most trying of the whole year ; to the pangs of
hunger, without a yard of stubble accessible ; and
to the unchecked ravages of vermin everlastingly
on the prowl. It is all very well to urge, in ex-
tenuation of total neglect, that severe weather, short
commons, and the attentions of vermin purge the
stock birds of weaklings. That is no excuse for
forgetting that what kills undesirables must weaken
the rest, and must tend to weak-germed eggs and
delicate chicks, ready to perish in the first spell of
bad weather. But please don't run away with the
idea that I advocate coddling partridges after the
manner of the unfortunate pheasant that spends
most of its life in coop and pen,

A partridge under average conditions can hold
its own with most birds in point of plumpness. Is
not * as plump as a partridge ' a common simile ?
But kill a partridge after a week's or a fortnight's
frost, and its emaciated breast will provide about
as much meat as a thrush's. Surely this is just the
time when the birds which are to continue their
race require, if only in the interest of the superb
sport they provide, food, decent both in quantity
and quality. What is there for them ? Some of
the lucky ones may be able to snatch a few grains

APRIL 26, 1908. TRACKS OF FRENCH PARTRIDGE TO HER NEST
IN TUFT OF DEAD GRASS. A PHEASANT THAT WAS SHARING THE

NEST NEVER CAME NEAR IT.

APRIL 26, 1908.

PARTRIDGES 4*

of corn round unthrashed stacks, the crumbs merely
of the rooks' stolen feasts. Would you not be
horrified to think that your pheasants fared on the
leavings of rooks ?

In winter weather the principal foods of partridges
are young clover and the leaves of root crops, with
odds and ends of various green-stuffs and weeds.
These they must eat or starve. I have seen part-
ridges actually perched on a hedge devouring hips.
On the other hand, pheasants, besides enjoying the
shelter and warmth of the woods, are seldom with-
out some arrangement for supplementing such wild
provender as they may find, chiefly in a varying
crop of acorns and beech-mast, not to mention the
many delicacies easily discovered lurking among
the thick carpet of fallen leaves. To crown their
comparatively riotous natural living, a keeper will
come round once or twice a day with gallons of
maize and choice seed mixtures, the latter often
made appetizing, or the reverse, with chemical
condiments. To amuse themselves with between
meals, there are always available barley, wheat,
and oat rakings — sideboard dishes — piled in con-
venient stacks in the cosy corners of the coverts.
The pheasants even enjoy the services of a man
to pull out the rakings, so that they may the
more easily wallow in ceaseless feastings. Give
half, a quarter, or even a tenth, of this corn to
the partridges, and when the days of reckoning

42 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

come they will not show themselves in ungrateful
numbers.

In localities where there are numerous woods
this luxurious feeding of the pheasants, while the
partridges are given full option to starve in the
fields, has a very annoying result, especially when a
covert belongs to one shoot and the fields adjoining
it to another. The partridges — and I don't blame
them — find out the artificial banqueting-halls in the
pheasant covert, and regularly visit them each morn-
ing ; and, finding things generally more pleasant
and comfortable than in the open fields, stay in
the covert all day till it is time to betake themselves
to the fields to roost. Now, there is nothing much
more satisfactory, sandwiched between pheasants
of satiating sameness, than a right and left from a
covey of partridges among the trees of a wood.
But, after all, the fields are where you want to find
your partridges. To have two or three blank drives
off fields near woods when plenty of birds are known
to be about is very annoying.

Depend upon it, there is no better way to insure
finding your partridges where and when you wish
than by feeding them very slightly, but regularly.
A handful of ' tailing ' grain, preferably wheat, with
a few seeds, such as dari, trickled along a furrow
up the middle of each principal drive, will insure
freedom from the disappointment of not being able
to find your birds on driving days. Often have I

PARTRIDGES 43

heard sportsmen and keepers discussing how curious
is the phenomenon that, whereas on a certain part
of a shoot there were * any amount ' of birds up
to the beginning of October, after that there were
scarcely any, and vice versa. The very simple ex-
planation is a question of food. And since it may
so happen that fields to which your September
supplies of birds may adjourn in October (when
wheat is mostly sown) are beyond your boundary,
the fact may prove not only curious, but annoying.

Then partridge coverts are, if not unheard of,
unthought of, on ninety-nine shoots out of a hun-
dred. By partridge coverts I do not necessarily
mean a collection of holding stuff, from which the
birds may be shot with greater ease. Why should
partridges be compelled to take pot-luck, and yet be
growled at without stint when they do not figure in
bags reckoned by hundreds of brace ? On grouse
moors we all know how carefully the heather is
burnt, so that there shall be young shoots for food
and old heather for nesting and cover. Thus are
grouse catered for as far as the ingenuity, money,
and sweat of man can assist them. If they were
just left to make the most they could of their natural
surroundings, even then they possess an immense
advantage over partridges. With partridges, num-
berless nests must be destroyed accidentally by
farming operations, of which grouse are in no
danger. Curiously enough, it is the very men who

44 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

take the keenest delight in the safe hatching off of
any sitting partridges they ' knows on ' who are
responsible for the destruction of scores of nests.
Tenant farmers who take the greatest possible in-
terest in the winged game on their farms ; shepherds
who would consider the advisability of pole-axing
their dog if they knew it to interfere with a sitting
bird ; carters and waggoners whose rhetorical
powers are in evidence mainly during their descrip-
tions of the gigantic coveys they have flushed, who
will take almost as much trouble in rescuing little
birds from the danger of the whirring knives of
grass-mowers and self-binders as they would their
own children ; and general farm-labourers, the
hobby of whose lives is sport, who are almost to a
man honorary keepers on the farms whereon they
work — none of these can avoid the innocent de-
struction of many nests. Nine partridge nests out
of ten found when grass is being cut for hay are
churned into a pitiful mass of feathers and broken
eggs, the close-sitting hen often being gashed to
pieces. The thousands of eggs thus wasted each
year constitute a heavy tax on the reproductive
efforts of partridges.

For nesting sites there may be generous hedge-
rows, marking the boundaries of the fields. In
them it may be difficult for men to see the nests,
but it is the easiest thing in the world for ground
vermin to find them. In the absence of other

PARTRIDGES 45

attractive, but diffused, nesting cover, the worst of
a few fine hedgerows is that they are also fine high-
ways for vermin. When, as is often the case, scores
of nests are packed in a few hedgerows, wholesale
losses are only too possible, no matter how keenly
vermin is kept down. A fox, by way of a single
night's devilish dissipation, may clear off sitting
birds wholesale. A family of travelling stoats may
take an undesirable route, with the inevitable con-
sequence that untold nests are spoilt before there
is any possibility of the invasion being discovered
by the most alert keeper.

Harking back to the question of partridge coverts,
I should be the last to look upon the good sports-
man of shallow pocket as a fool because he failed,
on a small rented shoot, to lay out elaborate
coverts especially for partridges ; but I should like
to see him help our bonny British partridges to
increase — cheaply — by helping them to help them-
selves. As one cheap but effective means to that
end, I recommend more satisfactory nesting accom-
modation than the birds at present usually have.
This can be attained quickly — and profitably, too
— even on a shoot rented for a short term. On
ordinary partridge ground there is no spot in which
a nest stands a better chance of hatching than some-
where in an open field. It is practically safe from
the human nest-spoiler, and to a maximum extent
from foxes and vermin. So far, so good. But early

46 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

in May, when partridges begin to lay in earnest,
there are few fields possessing the amount of cover
which the birds consider decent for nesting purposes,
except grass fields. Unfortunately, the majority of
these are mown for hay about ten days before the
majority of the eggs are ready to hatch. Hence
the disastrous results practically unavoidable now
that the whirring horse-drawn * cutters ' do all the
mowing.

I have known a partridge to lay on a bare fallow.
Special precautions were taken to see whether she
would succeed in hatching her eggs, and she did so.
True, there were not any foxes dangerously near, and
since the rooks did not demolish the eggs, I imagine
they must have looked upon the nest as a hoax.

Here are my ideas on partridge coverts where
money is an object. The crops which I rejoice to
see here and there are rye (for seed) and forward-
sown vetches ; if the latter also are left for seed, so
much the better. When foxes have been specially
attentive to nests in hedges, I have often found con-
solation in such crops. A nest in a field growing
the crops I have named is little more liable to suffer
from weather than one in a hedge-side. Hence, by
way of cheap, quick-growing, and effective part-
ridge coverts, I do not see that anything can surpass
the sowing of strips or patches of rye and autumn
vetches at suitable intervals, and preferably on the
higher parts of the fields. Certainly, elaborately

PARTRIDGES 47

planted and fenced partridge coverts or sanctuaries
are all very well for those who can afford them — and,
of course, for the partridges. And if these luxuries
are systematically installed over an estate, the
process of driving the birds is considerably simpli-
fied. However, the chief use of such permanent
coverts is for the betterment of the birds' nesting ;
but if you want the partridges to take full advantage
of them, the stuff of which they are composed must
be kept thin and short.

So far as its practical form goes, the interest
taken by the average man who owns or rents
partridge ground is none the better for its sudden
blossoming forth when September is getting near.
It is really of little more use to the birds' welfare
than the compassion of the ordinary non-shooting
man in the country, who corresponds to the so-called
' man in the street ' in town. The former does not
think about partridges at all till the latter end of
August ; then he may remark casually — probably
at dinner — that he supposes the first of September
will soon be here, and metaphorically will smack his
lips in view of the annual prospect of a brace of
birds from someone. It never enters this individual's
head that partridges do not come with the month
more or less as mushrooms, or spring flowers, or
June roses. I do not expect him to believe that
partridges would show an appreciable return were
they to receive a tithe of the attention which is

48 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

lavished so ungrudgingly, but unnecessarily, on
pheasants. By way of publishing how much he
observes, he actually will go so far as to make some
pretence at restraining the trespassing proclivities
of his dog when he passes through a wood, lest
the fiend disturb the pheasants — just as if they were
neurotic individuals ordered the rest-cure. Two
minutes later he fails to take the slightest notice
when partridge after partridge flies up from under
his brute's nose — from nests, of course. I never
can make out why this man — call him what you
will ; I've called him several things ! — so dearly loves
to be considered superior to the townsmen in
sporting science, or why he will persist in con-
sidering that pheasants alone constitute ' disturbable '
game. I wonder on how many occasions, when I
have been asked whether people might take strolls
in certain parts of a shoot, and I have answered
that I had no objection provided that they did not
tread in the hedge-sides, or hold rollicking picnics
in certain dells, or take with them a dog guaranteed
innocent of malice aforethought and everything else,
have I heard the remark : ' Why ? Will it disturb
the pheasants ?'

Slowly, but none the less surely, partridges will
forge their way to the top of the pole — not only as
the most popular game-birds in the country, but as
the cheapest to produce, and in many other ways
the most desirable. There is only one fault that the

PARTRIDGE ON HER NEST.

(An exposure of 6 seconds.)

OFF TO FEED.

PARTRIDGES 49

gourmand can urge against the partridge — that on
the table it is too small. Even this deficiency it
makes ample atonement for in flavour ; while there
is no law to prevent anyone eating five brace or
more birds at a meal. The only fault which the
sportsman finds with the partridge is that it some-
times flies too fast. Here the remedy clearly lies
with the sportsman.

Another reason for emphasizing the ever-in-
creasing boom in partridges is the recent Land
Tenure Act. Although, in common fairness, I have
nothing to say against the Act, so long as it is
administered by men who understand their business,
I am inclined to think there will be bother con-
nected with imaginary damage. This must tend to
a preference for cheap game of non-destructive
habits. I freely admit that it is possible for rabbits,
hares, and even pheasants, to commit acts of
damage ; but I could put my finger on farmers
who, when they claim their damages under the new
Act, will find that their banking account is not
thereby so much swollen as when they merely
'mentioned the matter' to those holding the shooting
rights over their farms, and left the assessment to
them. For instance, a farmer of my acquaintance
was till recently practically in receipt of a useful
annuity from the shooting tenant of his farm. This
was paid as a little help towards his rent. I am
certain, however, that in no single year did the real

4

50 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

value of the crops damaged by game, including
rabbits and hares, exceed a sovereign. No doubt
and no wonder, in consideration of existing circum-
stances, the farmer did not take full advantage of
the Ground Game Act ! Now all this is changed,
and the crops themselves must be relied upon
directly to provide the amount required against the
day of audit.

Though I have heard enough complaints con-
cerning rabbits to make me for ever sick of the
very mention of their name, none of the petitioners
has ever launched the most speculative accusation
against partridges. In view of the evidence upon
which many other complaints have been founded,
I must confess that I am somewhat surprised. With
some of the farmers with whom I have had to deal
the excuse must be that damage by partridges never
entered their heads. I have made it my business
specially to inquire of good farmers, who were also
good sportsmen, and shot as often as they got the
chance, whether they thought that partridges were
in any way capable of doing a farmer, or anyone
else, damage ; and if so, how, when, and where.
The reply from one and all may best be given in
its raw state : ' Well, I dunno as they do.' One
whom I questioned told me, as, of course, I knew
quite well already, that there was only one com-
bination of circumstances in which partridges might
justly be considered to do ' no good ' — that is, when

PARTRIDGES 51

a really good stock of birds has been left, such as
a ' Grange ' stock, for instance, after a fairish year,
and a farmer possesses a piece of forward vetches,
and the weather is such that snow covers stubbles,
clover, etc., but not the vetches. Then, unless a
thaw quickly arrives, partridges are liable to peck
off the tops of the vetches somewhat severely. But
it was admitted, in mitigation of this one slight
failing, that partridges at their worst inflict nothing
approaching the damage done by the winter flocks
of gluttonous pigeons.

Here's to your health, you bonny brown British
partridges, with many happy returns of good seasons,
in which I may drive you over other people, or
shoot at your hurtling forms myself; I don't care
which, for both these things are fine sport. And
may you never, like those yellow-fatted pheasants,
be brought under the sordid thumb of £ s. d. !

4—2

CHAPTER V

PARTRIDGE-SPIGOTING

Anticipation — Modern methods — Weather and wildness — The more
birds, the wilder they are — Towering birds — The legs-down
fallacy — The cloud of feathers — Some stories — Driving — Skill
and circumstances — Observations on driving.

THERE is in the anticipation of September partridge-
shooting a pleasure almost equal to that of consum-
mation. There is no perfume comparable to that
enchanting blend of charlock flowers, turnips, clover-
heads, and stubble. I wonder on how many even-
ings of late August I have paused by some gate
on the fringe of my partridge-fields to enjoy a pipe
of fragrant shag ; to sniff the savour of dewy earth ;
to hear the lullabies of crouching coveys ; and to
listen to what sounds gave requiem to-day. What
incense came from those beloved fields! What
glorious nocturnes in the call of partridges and
the wild wail of the curlew !

The keeper of to-day has good reason to rejoice
that the high stubbles and tall turnips are no more.
Just imagine how partridges would fare in front of

52

PARTRIDGE-SHOOTING 53

modern ejectors, handled even with moderate skill.
What awful carnage there would be ! The task of
finding the slain in vast seas of such high, dense
cover would change the keeper into a sort of
sporting scavenger. There would be, however, in
these days, one redeeming feature about old-
fashioned cover — there would not be so many
birds wounded, to carry on and die, which is the
curse of modern partridge-shooting, by the walking-
up method. Probably there is no self-styled sports-
man more despised by keepers than he who comes
out to shoot for slaughter only. On he races all
the time, dropping wild-rising birds in all directions.
But in what direction he knows not, nor cares, when
the keeper asks him where his birds are down.
Likely enough he does not know even how many
he has down. Days afterwards the keeper happens
on many a maggoty mass, and breathes a sheaf of
blessings on the murderer's head.

There is no doubt that partridges nowadays are
much wilder than they were years ago. They seem
to get wilder every year. With the coming of
shaven stubbles, all sorts of rattling machines (even
to motor-binders), and a general lack of holding
cover, it was only natural that birds should be more
difficult to approach. Yet, if one comes to think
of it, machines and other things which doubtless
tend to make birds wilder than otherwise they might
be are not now materially different to what they

54 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

were twenty years ago. Then, if one marked a
covey down, and went straight for it, oftener than
not the birds would lie within easy range, even
when there was no cover. In the early days of
September birds would lie well on stubble, while
of late years it has been hopeless to expect any
shooting to speak of by walking up birds on stubble.
You may mark a dozen coveys, and are lucky if
you get within shot of one of them. I remember
one day, a few years ago, on which we expected to
make a good bag, walking. It was the sixth of
September ; there were a good lot of birds, and not
a shot had been fired at them ; five guns and six
men to walk between them. There was not much
cover, it is true, but quite enough to bag a reasonable
number of birds for one day. It had rained heavily
during the earlier part of the morning, and though
it stopped before we began shooting, the weather
was sullen all day. Off the first large field, some
thirty acres of stubble, we flushed quite a hundred
birds — not one of them within a hundred yards.
And so things went on ; and, if I remember rightly,
not a shot had been fired at a bird within forty
yards when it was decided to do what we could by
impromptu driving.

Of course, anyone who understands the habits of
partridges knows that a combination of wet, cold,
and wind makes them uncomfortable and extra
wild, probably making the bag only half what it

PARTRIDGE-SHOOTING 55

would have been in fine weather. But here is an
instance to show how much wilder partridges have
become when, so far as the weather is concerned,
they ought to lie like the proverbial stones. During
the wonderful weather in the autumn of 1908, I
went out on four different farms on which not a
shot had been fired, and had the greatest difficulty
in getting the brace or two I required. And it is no
exaggeration to say that on one of the farms, of
six hundred acres, there were a thousand partridges.
Of course, well walked by an active party of guns
and beaters, the birds soon would have tired, owing
to the exceptional sultriness. One great cause
which, I consider, is equally as responsible as
driving for the increasing wildness of partridges is
their increasing numbers. Still, I do not mind
how wild they become so long as they continue to
increase.

Directly guns come within sight of a field whereon
there are a lot of partridges — and often when yet
a field or two away — the birds start running, each
lot taking the tip from the other. On they race,
possibly to rise and pour over the far hedge in a
brown shoal. Perhaps they do not rise, but run
through the hedge, so that their pursuers do not
enjoy the satisfaction even of seeing them. This sort
of thing is very liable to happen when only a small
party is out, and the fields are big. The keeper
gets the credit of having one bird where he has

56 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

ten. Here is an illustration. I went one afternoon
in early September with one gun to an outlying
part of my beat. It was just after lunch ; the sun
shone warmly, and the air was still. We tried three
big fields, in which were stubble, sainfoin, and
turnips (of which there were quite thirty acres). I
knew well enough there were plenty of partridges.
And nine-tenths of them must have been in those
turnips when we two began to walk them. We
saw only one good covey and a few odd birds. My
companion killed one bird. Certainly I might have
killed another, but was attending to my dog when
it rose, and did not try.

A fortnight or so afterwards we were to have
a day's driving, and I was asked where I proposed
to begin. I said I wanted to have three drives
over those fields on which one bird had been
bagged on an ideal September afternoon, and
perhaps a score of others seen. ' But,' came the
comment, * there are no birds there.' ' I think
there are,' I ventured to say; 'try, and see.' At
the first drive — from those white turnips — an out-
side gun, who got appreciably less shooting than
the rest, bagged five and a half brace.

If there is one thing all keepers hate, it is a boy
being let loose with a gun and a dog on ground
which at least has not been shot over once. This
is how a boy enjoyed himself thoroughly at the
expense of my partridges and — well, other things.

PARTRIDGE-SHOOTING 57

We were having no shooting-parties just then, so
he was allowed, much against my inclination, to
fool about by himself when and where he liked.
One morning, when I was with some hand-reared
pheasants in a wood, beyond which was a large
piece of roots, I heard an occasional bang-bang.
This was enough to tell me that the boy was on
the war-path. As I feared they would, the bang-
bangs became much nearer and much more frequent,
interspersed with tremendous yelling on the part
of the boy, and yapping on the part of his wild
spaniel. As the uproar continued for some time,
and I knew that a couple of minutes of it must have
caused most of the partridges to clear out, I began
to have suspicions. To have gone to the edge of
the wood and watched the performance would have
been easy. But it was not necessary. There was
a frequent swish of wings as my pheasants returned
to covert. At the next feed there were to be seen
some that crawled, some that hopped, and some
that drooped a wing. Luckily that boy returned
to school in the evening, but not before he came
with great glee to tell me he had bagged so many
partridges. I asked if they all were partridges,
and he confessed there was some doubt about — one.
That was all the satisfaction I got.

There is no doubt that the fewer the partridges,
the better they lie. This bears out my surmise that
the increasing wildness of partridges must be

58 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

attributed largely to their increasing numbers.
Even as it is easier to approach within range of
a single wood-pigeon or a feeding rabbit than a
crowd of either, so is it easier to come within shot
of small lots of partridges, few and far between,
with this difference : you are watching the pigeons
or rabbits, which probably cannot see you, while in
the pursuit of partridges matters are reversed. This
comparative tameness of partridges that are few
goes to show with what discretion shooting should
be regulated in a bad year. For, by reason of
their approachability, any birds that have managed
to survive are certain to suffer out of all proportion
to their numbers.

The ' towered ' bird continues to give rise to
interesting speculation among shooting-men. Some
say it is hit in the lungs, and others in the head.
But the bird struck in the head, although it may
rise to a fair height, is not a genuine towerer, often
glides down with outstretched wings, and is liable
to get up again. It is pretty generally conceded
that a towering bird goes up and up to get air,
and dies in the air at the moment its descent begins.
To get air means to breathe more easily, and
probably the reason why the bird has difficulty in
breathing, yet can fly, is that it is being drowned
in an inverted fashion in its own blood ; that is
to say, it has received a wound which causes blood
to escape into its breathing mechanism. When the

PARTRIDGE-SHOOTING 59

inrush of blood is great, a bird is suffocated before
it has got many feet up. The slighter the escape
of blood into the breath-passages, the longer is it
before a bird dies, and, consequently, the greater
the height to which it rises. It may be asked,
Why does the towering or perpendicular flight
make it easier for a bird to breathe than the
horizontal ? Because, I think, it retards the escape
of blood into the windpipe and throat — and, thus,
the bird's suffocation.

The effect on any bird of a blow on the head
which is not hard enough to kill it outright is to
make the bird throw up its head, flap its wings, and
depress its tail. Why this should be so I do not
know, but I feel sure it explains why partridges
imitate the towering performance when struck by a
pellet in the head, though not in an immediately
fatal part. It makes them depress their tails, so
that, their wings still being in motion, they must
go up. Those birds which occasionally fall like
a stone, and remain for a time as dead, and then
get up and fly off as if they never had been hit,
probably have been struck in the beak, the effect
being similar to that of a blow on the jaw of a
man. Another deceptive bird is the one (so often
seen when partridges are being walked up) that
goes away with one or both legs hanging down,
and often with rickety, zigzag flight. I wonder
how often, when I have been setting off to search

60 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

for such a bird, I have received the information
that it cannot possibly run, since both its legs are
broken. Fortunately, both for itself and the keeper
who has to look for it, the bird, as a rule, falls dead
— always, in my experience, when it gives a pre-
liminary upward twist. But when it glides down,
say, on the fringe of a hedge, there is nothing in
the shape of broken legs to prevent it from running.
The cause of the stilt-like hanging of leg or legs
is a wound in the back which paralyzes, temporarily
or otherwise, the nerves controlling the usual tucked-
up position of the legs during flight.

We all know the disappointment of losing a
partridge from which has come the proverbial
cloud of feathers, though positive that it could
not have got more than just over the hedge. In
fact it may have gone over the horizon. The
fewer the feathers that come from a bird at
sporting range, the more likely is it to have been
hit in a fatal spot. The cloud of feathers is
likely enough to be produced by shot ploughing
through the mass of feathers above the tail. That
is to say, you sometimes and I (often) have shot
a bit too far behind a bird which was rising im-
perceptibly. A few golden inches forwarder and
the rising would not have mattered. When I have
been out with good shots — which was a treat I
did not get very often — I have found it profitable
to watch birds going away, apparently after being

PARTRIDGE-SHOOTING 61

missed at longish range. Oftentimes a bird will
slacken speed a trifle, particularly when topping
a hedge. It is well worth while to have a look
the other side of the hedge for a few yards on
both sides of the bird's line, even though you did
not actually see it fall. Good shots shoot well
forward, and are very likely to hit a bird in the
neck without bringing it down on the spot. I
have seen many a bird slacken speed at a hedge,
give a bit of a lurch, and sink quietly to the earth —
dead. The extra exertion of topping the hedge
hurries the bird's collapse, and it usually turns
slightly out of its line.

Shooting stories are almost as numerous and as
remarkable as those of fishing. Here are some
samples concerning a farmer, a parson, and a
keeper respectively. I was not present when
any of the incidents occurred. I credit the keeper's
feat, having had the account from his own lips,
also the deed done by the parson, he being my
own father; but I must admit that the farmer's
story needs some digestion, so I will tell it first.
Strolling round the farm with his gun, the farmer
had occasion to pass through a gap in a hedge,
near which there was a heap of red ashes, the
remains of a couch-fire. In these ashes a covey
of partridges were taking a dust-bath, as partridges
love to do. And so much were the birds enjoying
themselves that they failed to notice the farmer's

62 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

approach. He fired point-blank into their midst,
and churned up a terrific cloud of dust. So soon
as he was able to see anything, he saw that he
had bagged the whole covey — sixteen. He picked
up the birds and put them into his pockets, where
they all revived. None had been hit by the shot.
They were blinded by the dust.

The parson, on starting out one day to walk up
partridges, made a vow in the form of a bet that
he would bag the first bird he saw. One was soon
seen, but far out of shot. In the recklessness of
his despair at the prospect of losing the bet, he
loosed off. The bird, of course unscathed, flew
on, but straight into the wall of a cottage. It
was picked up, duly bagged, and the bet was won.
The keeper's story is that he, having been ordered
to get three brace of partridges for the ' house, ' had
failed utterly, owing to the birds' wildness. He
was a useful shot at walked-up birds, but simply
could not look at them when driven ; in fact, he
never had hit a driven bird. However, after he
and two under-keepers had tramped in vain for
the best part of a day, it was resolved that they
could not fare worse by trying a drive. So the
keeper stationed himself behind a thick hedge,
while the other two acted as drivers. Soon that
sweet rumbling as of distant thunder told him
that a good covey had been flushed. With his
heart beating like a muffled drum, he listened to

PARTRIDGE-SHOOTING 63

the whirr of wings. Evidently the birds were
coming straight for him. The next moment the
swish of wings told him they had turned along
the other side of the hedge. He blazed both
barrels through the hedge at a venture, and bagged
three and a half brace.

It is not often that a partridge offers insult in
return for intended injury. The mayor of a pro-
vincial town was invited to a partridge-drive. He
came, and with him the air of ableness usually
attached to so exalted a personage. Up to lunch-
time evidence was entirely lacking that his worship
had contributed anything to the bag. After the
meal a solitary partridge came along straight for
his head, which he ducked as he swung his gun
in the direction of the bird, and fired. The bird
took no heed, but calmly alighted on a railing
behind the mayor, and within easy shot. There
it sat — a glorious chance. Hastily he reloaded
his gun ; but, as his worship explained, just as he
was about to shoot, the bird spread its wings,
gave a derisive chirp, and flew away. A farmer
told me the following story of his own resource-
fulness and the mighty execution of his old gun :
During a spell of hard weather he had spotted a
4 rare mess of partridges ' feeding round a corn-rick.
He could not decide which section of the birds he
should brown, since they seemed equally thick all
round the rick. Finally he hit on this idea.

64 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

Having bent the barrel of his gun over his
knee — in itself no mean feat — he half-filled it with
shot, and let drive — and, he said, killed every
partridge. Of course, I did not witness this per-
formance. But the farmer lived to tell me of it.

The driving of partridges is the most difficult
part of a keeper's work. But it gives a keeper
scope. There is a fascination about driving — a
something which gives a never-failing freshness
to the same old fields and fences. It was my
delight. Partridges are to be driven by a know-
ledge of their habits — by using one's brains as well
as legs — not by luck ; flags and beaters are merely
organized accessories. This is the mistake made by
most people who do not understand the partridge-
play — to imagine that, given some ground and
some partridges, the birds can be driven when
and where it seemeth desirable. No man can
drive partridges except where they are willing to
go. Partridge-driving compared to the driving of
pheasants is as chess compared to draughts. There
are endless combinations and alternatives to be
thought out and organized, to meet various direc-
tions and strengths of wind — not merely for a
drive or two, but for a whole day's driving. On
each drive depends, to a great extent, the success
of the next, and thus of the whole day. However
others might appreciate them, I never could enjoy
happy-go-lucky driving. Since the best- planned

PARTRIDGE-SHOOTING 65

schemes for driving partridges do not always turn
out as well as they might, it should be obvious
that haphazard drives can bring about the best
results only by merest chance.

There is a popular fallacy about partridge-driving
—that the results (in the shape of bag) obtained
on big shoots are due to the personal skill of the
keepers. This implies that the keepers in charge
of small shoots are comparative duffers at driving.
True, they may be, but not necessarily ; or rather,
the big-shoot keepers are not necessarily superior
in skill to the small-shoot keepers. Again and
again a small-shoot keeper has to bring into play
more thought, judgment, and attention to details —
and brains — than his brother on the large place.
Often an individual drive on a small shoot is of
maximum excellence when the only three or four
coveys on the ground included in that drive are
engineered over the guns ; whereas on the large
shoot a couple of hundred birds may escape the
drivers and yet another two hundred go to the guns.

Therefore, to drive partridges on a big shoot
is simple compared to driving them on a small
extent of ground. In the latter case the controlling
thought must be how not to lose your birds by
letting them slip over the everlasting boundaries,
and not so much how to get them over the guns,
which is the far less complex aim of driving on an
ample acreage. As it fell to my lot during most of

5

66 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

my game-keeping career, not only to organize, but
to carry out, partridge-drives over ground that made
things difficult more on account of its conformation
than its extent, I will give some of my experiences.
I had about thirteen hundred acres of partridge
fields, and if only they had lain together, without the
intervention of permanent obstacles, I could have
wished for no better scope for that part of my work,
which I grew to regard more in the light of a
hobby.

The village lay in the middle, the effect of which
was that you could not get a to-and-fro drive on any
of the divisions, unless it were early in the season
and cover happened to be in exactly the right parts.
And when, as more often than not was the case,
there was no cover in which to concentrate the
birds at the business-ends of the divisions — which,
•by reason of boundaries, made the drives wider
than they were long — either one had to arrange the
guns much too wide apart, or run considerable risk
by squeezing the birds enough to get them over the
frontage which the conventional party of guns could
cover properly. Here is a point which many hosts
of shooting-parties do not seem to understand.
They fail to see how too few guns can spoil a
partridge-drive, though they know well enough that
if the guns at a covert shoot are too far apart,
pheasants will escape between them without even
rising. They argue — so many birds, so many guns ;

PARTRIDGE-SHOOTING 67

therefore, the fewer the guns, the more shooting
each will obtain, which in partridge-driving is
entirely wrong, though it would not be if one had
conveniently placed tapering pieces of cover from
which to send the birds over the guns. Then
four good guns would be a great deal better than a
dozen duffers. But in the ordinary circumstances
of partridge-driving, the most incompetent shooters
are better than nothing at all, since they make
things better for others. Driven partridges are
difficult enough to hit at all times, and the straightest
shooting is worse than useless when the birds are
not within fair range. Forty yards is quite enough
between guns, and less is often better. Though,
theoretically at least, the first-barrel bird is taken in
front, any number of shooters seldom fire at all till
birds are past them ; besides, the height of fences
and of the birds frequently makes it impossible to
get in a shot in front. Therefore, assuming that
guns are sixty or seventy yards apart, even if
it were permissible to fire down the line, birds
passing half-way between two guns would be thirty
yards off or more at the nearest point. That means
it is not possible to get in the first barrel under
forty yards ; and a man would have to be a very
good shot, very quick, and very lucky to get a
brace.

So when guns are too few it means that half the
birds which come on pass wide of a narrow frontage

5—2

68 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

properly covered, or that packs of birds may pass
practically unchallenged between guns spread over
a wider frontage, to go on and remain unbroken up.
One good pack, by meeting the fire of two or three
guns, is likely to be split up, and if not given time
to re-pack will provide a good day's sport and a
respectable bag for shooters of ordinary skill. You
must drive early enough if you would drive success-
fully for a whole day over a small extent of ground,
or over a comparatively large acreage if cut up by
villages, or of 'strippy,' irregular outline. In the
matter of date people will imitate Lord So-and-so,
of five hundred brace a day fame, only to find their
sport and their bag more inferior than ever to his.
Besides, by driving early you can have short drives
orT stubble, sainfoin, and other material available
and sufficient for holding birds before they get too
strong. Later on it is all very well for sportsmen
to grumble and even rave about long drives and
long waits ; you may have short drives and short
waits, and no shooting to speak of all day long.
* Where are the birds ?' is the question put to the
unfortunate keeper after each short drive. If ever
I hated anything it was to be asked where my
partridges were after somebody else had arranged
the drives.

It may be suggested that the provision of two
sets of beaters and competent men to manage them
would allow the long drives necessary to success,

PARTRIDGE-SHOOTING 69

without the guns having long waits ; to which there
might be objection on the score of expense, or
absence of a reliable commander for a second gang
of drivers, to say nothing of the fact that the extent
of ground or the supply of partridges — probably
both — render driving with two sets of beaters
absurd. In any circumstances double driving must
be very well managed, or all sorts of complications
are more than likely to occur. A short drive late
in the season may be successful occasionally, as
when birds are known to be in a field of luxuriant
cover, but to make a general practice of short
drives after early October is to court failure. You
will not even see half the birds which are on the
ground, for either the guns going to their stands or
the beaters getting round will put up prematurely
most of the birds that already have not departed on
legs or wings.

It fell to my lot a few years ago to be driving
partridges on ground that was rather cut up and lay
awkwardly. The day — high wind and rain — was
dead against the results possible on the same ground
in better weather. I began with a down-wind drive
about half a mile long off some bare fields, on three
sides of which were boundaries, so there was not
much in the way of an alternative. A good lot of
birds, like brown pebbles from a mighty sling, went
well, though I could not see them reach the guns
for rain. I was informed when the drive was over

70 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

that one gun did not get a shot — I am quite sure
this made no difference to his killing nothing — and
that these long drives were not liked, and would be
tolerated no more. The next drive I wanted to
take was about five hundred yards in length, across
the wind at right angles to the previous one, and
consisted of one big field dotted with charlock plants
— about one to every five square yards. On two
sides of the field were boundaries. However, this
would not do at all — though to my way of thinking
there was no question of two opinions as to its being
the right move.

I had intended a return drive (the third), to be
followed by an up-wind drive (the fourth), which
obviously would have included its own birds and
those from the three preceding drives. I was
ordered to take the beaters round as for my idea of
the second drive of the day, but to bring them along
half at a time — that is, to make two parallel drives
of the charlock-pimpled field. I even was asked
what I thought of the plan. I said that I thought
it admirably devised to insure two blank drives
instead of one good one, and to send many birds off
the place. Still, I was ordered to carry it out, which
1 did, thinking that if anyone knew more than I did
about my partridges and the driving of them, the
fact ought to be advertised. And I was always
willing to learn. We all learnt what it was like to
have two blank drives in succession, save that a rook

PARTRIDGE-SHOOTING 71

passed over the guns during the progress of the
second. I waited for instructions as to the next
drive. On it I have some sort of recollection of
a small covey. The next was dead blank. Then
came lunch-time. I hung back ; my self-appointed
instructor hung back. I explained that the best
plans I could think of had been knocked irretrievably
on the head, and that the day was ruined ; but,
provided there were no further interference (it was
politeness alone that caused me to use a term so
mild), I consented to do what I could to improve
matters. After lunch we betook ourselves to a part
of the shoot that had not been ' messed up/ and had
some passable drives, getting birds broken up just
as it was time to go home.

Many a good drive has been spoiled by an
improper start. A shot or any sort of shooting off
is not a good signal, even when there is a strictly
enforced rule against shooting between drives ; for
you never know when someone unconnected with
the party may not let fly, and one shot sounds very
much like another. A proper signalling-horn, with
two notes, is the best means of communication
between the manager of the guns and the directors of
beaters. Here is a word of advice — for the briefest
moment do not let a horn get into the hands of an
irresponsible person. I have noticed that those who
are addicted to hunting possess very liberal and
erratic ideas of horn-blowing when they are shoot-

72 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

ing. I have suffered much through the untimely
blast of a horn, resulting on at least two occasions
in the ruination of most promising drives just as
the guns got to their places. Of course, if I could
have seen the birds pass over where I knew the
guns ought to have been, I should have stopped
the beaters. As it was, I could not see ; and being
well aware beforehand that I should not be able to
see, I had made extra special arrangements that I
should drive on immediately the horn sounded.
There was plenty of corroborative evidence that
the horn had sounded, and the only reason that I
could think of to account for no sound of shots was
that the birds had turned off. Naturally, the horn-
blower blamed everybody but himself.

There is nothing like really well-organized driving
for showing what birds ground carries. It will show
a surprising lot of birds on ground upon which
those who do not know will tell you there are not
any. I remember in the first season of my keeper-
ship going over my ground on the afternoon pre-
ceding the first day's driving with one of the guns.
He appeared dreadfully sceptical at the prospect
of getting the forty-brace bag I hinted at. He
declared that there could not be any birds, since
one covey of nine was all we saw. We got forty-
five and a half brace (half being killed by one
gun), exclusive of a runner alleged to have been
manufactured by a gun who got rid of a big

PARTRIDGE-SHOOTING 73

bag of cartridges without doing any further
damage.

Many people fail to make anything like the use
they might of the partridge's habit of getting back
at the earliest moment to its usual haunts. This
habit is most evident in the earlier part of the
season. I remember driving successfully the same
drive three times in one day, though never a bird
was driven back to it. It was in early October,
and the ground comprising the drive was so situated
that it could be driven only in such a way that the
birds were lost after passing over the guns. Literally,
we drove that drive morning, noon, and night.

During the giving of instructions for a coming
day one often hears a keeper admonished to be
sure and get the birds driven into the roots and the
beaters in their places, so that there shall be no
delay in giving the guns something to do directly
they reach their stands. This sounds very well,
and is not very difficult to carry out — so far. But
roots almost always are on the wet side so early in
the morning, as those who have to go through them
— and the partridges — fully appreciate. No keeper
or beaters in the world can keep partridges in roots
if they do not wish to stay there. Besides, at ten
o'clock on an autumn morning the birds have not
finished breakfast. Above all things in the shape
of wet roots, partridges hate a solid mass of rape
sown broadcast. I have seen hundreds of birds

74 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

driven into such stuff — to save time — and almost
every bird rise and clear out within five minutes.
The result was that the beaters again had to go
round some distance, and the guns, after all, had to
wait much longer than if there had been no pre-
liminary driving in.

Partridges will put themselves into dry roots
readily enough — either when the sun is hot, for
shade ; or when there is a hard frost with a wind,
for shelter ; or when it rains very, very hard, for
protection (by way of the lesser of two damp evils).
There is no more likely place to find birds in very
wet weather than in tall kale, for beneath its hanging
leaves the birds can move without getting wet by
contact with wet material. Swedes, which have
sprawling leaves, much given to holding water,
consequently are not likely to be patronized by
partridges, unless dry. When driving is going on
other than early in the season, it is well for guns
not to lose time in getting to their places after the
beaters start to get round a drive, even if it is a
long one, and especially when the birds on the
ground included in the drive have been driven on
to it towards some barrier, such as a village. Often
I have known birds to start coming whjen the
beaters were only half-way to the base of a half-mile
drive. Though red-legs are not of much use for
walking up, it is only right that they should have a
word of praise for their driving qualities ; they will

PARTRIDGE-SHOOTING 75

begin going over the guns in driblets so soon as
a drive is started, fly straight, in a wind, fast enough
and high enough for any man, and give the English-
men a splendid lead.

Do not forget — if bag is an object — that ten
partridges too tired to swerve are equal to a hundred
fresh ones, whose pace and swerve make a few
reputations, but destroy many.

CHAPTER VI

VERMIN AND TRAPPING

The worst pests— Poisoning rats — Rooks as robbers— Ten stoats and
a silvery-white pheasant — Litters of stoats— Stoats and weasels
and rats — Hawks — Hedgehogs — Jays as sentinels — Owls — Dis-
crimination—Vermin without end.

' LET the keeper look after the vermin and the
game will look after itself' is a saying which has
stood the test of time. There is no more interest-
ing phase of a keeper's work than the circumvention
of vermin. Dull indeed would it be on a shoot
where there is absolutely no vermin ; one might as
well use a gun which mechanically prevented
missing. Though I had to do a lot of game-
shooting, I enjoyed the all-round sport with vermin
better. Often have I thought that I would like
to get a keeper's berth where vermin teemed.
I do not mean a place swarming with rats and
rooks, but holding a good old-fashioned stock of
all sorts of vermin.

Putting foxes on a pedestal apart, I found rooks
and rats were the worst and most persistent pests
with which I had to deal. It is said that if you

76

VERMIN AND TRAPPING 77

kill one rat, half a dozen come to its funeral ; but
I expect they would come, funeral or no funeral.
At any rate, the more rat funerals the better for
game. I found that if I got my rats down very
early in the spring, I was sure to have another
stock by the time the pheasants and partridges
were nesting, which, of course, is the time when
rats do most damage, and when, for obvious reasons,
you cannot do much to destroy them without doing
nearly as much harm to game interests as would
the rats themselves. My plan was to wait till the
end of March. Where there are many rats — one
way and another we destroyed about five thousand
a year — there is only one way to make anything
like a clean sweep of them, and that is by poison-
ing or otherwise dosing them. Trapping alone is
useless, for while one is catching a score hundreds
escape. I would make the most careful search for
burrows or other signs of rats over every inch, so
to speak, of my ground : this would take two of us
ten days. Wherever we found the smallest sign
of the work of rats we left ample medicine to go
round, and for any tourists that might call in. Also,
when a burrow showed no sign of present occupa-
tion, we would leave a meal ready for prospective
tenants. To deal with rats successfully the treat-
ment must be generous and thorough. It is
useless to half poison them, or rather to poison
half of them. Let the margin be always on the

78 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

side of liberality — that is to say, distribute in the
rat-holes more small doses of poison than you think
there are rats. It is slovenly, and besides being
useless, to put down a big lump of poison here and
there, with the idea that the rats will come and
share it amongst themselves. This is what happens :
a big rat comes upon a large portion of poison, and
feeds upon it, to the exclusion of would-be sharers
of the fatal feast, and — dies, but not before he has
eaten several times as much as was necessary to
kill him. And so others must go short and — live.
But when the poison is evenly and thickly dis-
tributed in small but sufficient portions, all the
rats thereabouts may get a taste, and having got
it, are likely to be unable to search for more. The
only case in which it is advisable to put down a
bumper dose in one spot is when you find a burrow
containing a tribe of ratlets, which, when they
begin to run out, are in the habit of using one
hole.

I remember dressing a thick ivy-grown hedge, in
which I reckoned there were at least two hundred
rats. On one side there was wheat about a foot
high, which the rats looked like clearing ; they
nipped off the stems, fed on the joints, and left the
rest to waste. I took much time and trouble not
to leave a single hole undressed. And it paid me :
for they were the only strong colony of rats on
that farm, having been attracted by the holding

ALL HANDS TO THE RATS.

MISTRESS OF THE SITUATION.

VERMIN AND TRAPPING 79

over of some wheat-stacks. By the following morn-
ing I do not think one rat remained alive.

The reason for the wholesale dressing of rat-
haunts not too long before the game-birds begin
to nest is that the presence of rat corpses in the
burrows deters immigrating relatives from tarrying
just long enough to allow the birds to hatch in
peace. Apart from the obvious reason, why I
insist so strongly on liberality at the first dosing
is that those rats which otherwise would have to
go short will not be over-keen to accept a second
invitation, after observing the dismal fate of their
brethren. Provided that I could keep my ground
clear of rats till the birds had hatched, I had to
consider myself lucky, since there were tens of
thousands of rats on the neighbouring farms, on
two of which the farmers seemed indifferent to their
presence. During the thrashing of the corn in a
barn on one of these farms, within five hundred
yards of some of my best partridge ground,
seventeen hundred rats were killed. Perhaps the
farmer kept them out of false economy, since he
used them as fuel for making steam when threshing.

I lost hundreds of eggs every year by rooks,
besides probably as many more that I knew
nothing of; and little pheasants up to ten days
old on the rearing-field had to be guarded con-
stantly— or one might find that rooks had left
only bits of fluff and the legs of a score or so.

8o TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

In this way jackdaws are worse than rooks, for
they have a great fancy for the brains of pheasant
chicks, which on occasion they will kill when
almost as big as themselves. I have heard of
localities where rooks are still innocent of meddling
with the eggs or young of game. No doubt rooks
vary in degree of crime against game, but the best
of those with which I have been associated were
bad enough. Many a time has the damage done
by rooks been so wholesale and so irreparable that
I have wished that I could gather all the rooks
within a radius of a hundred miles into a confined
mass, and open fire till the last was dead. Of
course, I did not always feel like that. I love
as much as anybody their cawing at the coming
of spring — when the daisies open wide, the hum
of mowing is heard again on the lawns, and the
buzz of bees among the flaming crocuses.

Some say that rooks may steal only a few early
pheasant eggs here and there, while as yet the
herbage has made no headway, and the eggs lie
exposed and tempting. Of course, the easier it
is for rooks to see eggs, the easier is it for them
to find them ; but at all times it is easier for
rooks than for men to find eggs, for they can look
down on them. Get on a hillside from which
you can look down on a dense wood, and you
will be surprised at its bareness from the vertical
view-point. Not until the days when aeroplanes

VERMIN AND TRAPPING 81

are as cheap as bicycles will the keeper be able
to compete with rooks at finding eggs on anything
like equal terms. Even then rooks would have
the advantage : for what they cannot see through
they can walk beneath easily, to say nothing of
a theory that rooks, like all other creatures, have
eyes that magnify, so that objects appear to them
several times larger than to the eyes of men. In
any case, the eyes of a rook are infinitely keener
than those of a man. Some rooks are worse than
others at stealing eggs and young game. I am
certain that when once a rook has tasted an egg it
never loses a chance of doing so again, and the
older it gets the more cunning it becomes at
finding eggs. You may be sure a rook is an
experienced egg -thief when you see it beating
along a hedge, or over a wood or a field, with
bill pointing this way and that, as its eyes pry
into everything. Evidently rooks find peewits'
eggs comparatively as difficult to find as do men,
for they are to be seen quartering a peewit-haunted
field only about a yard from the ground.

To show how cunning and persevering rooks
become in their search for eggs, when walking
along a dense hedge I often have heard a flapping
of dusky wings within, and so have ended the
career of many an arch-robber of nests. This is
good evidence that, with all their cunning and
instinct of self-preservation, rooks do not reason,

6

82 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

since birds in the circumstances just related surely
would lie low instead of inviting almost certain
doom by flopping out under the muzzle of a gun.
At one time I had a joint interest in the eggs
of pheasants in a large open pen. But if either
the other man or myself were not on guard all
day, we got very little except shells. The rooks
would sit on the trees and wait for each egg to
be laid ; then down they would swoop, and the
wherewithal for a glorious rocketer was gone in
a twinkling. The next year the pen was covered
in with string-netting. After the pheasants had
laid the eggs required they were turned out. The
rooks had waited long and patiently for their turn
to come, and it was resolved that they should
have it. The door of the pen was left open, and
a trail of egg-shells laid to a fuller supply well
within the enclosure. A vengeance-seeking keeper
with a short stick came swiftly round a corner, and
in a very short time there were thirty-seven rooks
less to steal his eggs.

It would not be so bad if rooks were content
with a few of the early pheasant eggs : often
enough some of these are frosted, and could well
be spared. If only rooks would exercise their
cunning by distinguishing between frosted eggs
and others, they would be only too welcome to
the spoiled eggs for their trouble. True, early-
laying pheasants whose eggs are destroyed have

VERMIN AND TRAPPING 83

the chance of better luck with a second nest ; but
the days come when many a hen pheasant is
rendered chickless for the season, days when the
sap runs in the oaks, and myriads of caterpillars,
which keepers call palmers, hatch, and foul the
fresh oak-leaves with their feasting. Then come
to the woods great flocks of rooks, with their sons
and daughters, and all manner of relations. And
though there is other food enough and to spare,
nest after nest of pheasant eggs is destroyed, and
the young innocent rooks are led into the evil of
their elders. The pheasants which come to share
the caterpillar feast love to nest beneath the heads
of the felled oaks.

I have been told that partridge eggs are safe

from rooks, because they are so carefully covered

up when the nest is left. So they are, during the

laying period. But rooks are artful enough to take

stock of the goings to and fro of nest-owning

partridges ; besides, I think one may trust the

ordinary rook to recognize a partridge nest when

he sees it (however well covered are the eggs)

quite as easily as does a keeper. When partridges

are sitting is the most annoying time for rooks to

destroy their nests, especially when the clutches of

eggs have been added to by the keeper, who may

have walked scores of weary extra miles to rescue

the added eggs from nests in risky sites. To make

matters worse, rooks find the ' setty ' eggs of

6—2

84 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

partridges more easily than when ' cold ' (as keepers
call eggs in which incubation has not started),
because, when a sitting bird leaves her nest, she
does not cover up her eggs. These, having
become smoothed and polished from being sat
upon, the more easily catch the glint of the sun,
and therefore the eye of rooks. It seems curious at
first sight that partridges should cover up their cold
eggs, but leave fully exposed those which are being
incubated. The reason, I think, must be that the
birds' instinct has been so ordered by Nature to carry
out her rule — that * setty ' eggs must be allowed to
cool and to absorb oxygen, for the strengthening
and successful hatching of the embryos.

One may distinguish between the egg-stealing
work of a solitary rook and that of a company of the
rascals. A solitary rook does not hurry, and will
carry an egg to some open spot with the idea
(presumably) of enjoying it in safety, and does not
take all the eggs in a nest, unless they are very
few, on one occasion. But when a nest is dis-
covered by a band of the robbers, very short work
is made of it, and the keeper is likely to find left
only a few pieces of shell near the ransacked nest.
Anyone who has watched a whole tribe of rooks
mobbing a sitting partridge cannot fail to sympathize
with her, whether in sympathy with partridge-
shooting or not. For cowardly persistency the
sight were hard to match. One rook catches sight

VERMIN AND TRAPPING 85

of the neat little bird sitting on her treasures,
and gives a gleeful squawk ; then, with a regular
fanfare of squawking, its egg-thirsty companions
gather round the nest. Yet somehow or another
they seem to hesitate to start on their unholy feast,
though they strut around with a great show of bold-
ness and much more squawking. The partridge
has hissed at them ! A little partridge hen, save
for a bit of a beak weaponless, but full of quiet
pluck, has refused to leave her post at the demand
of a score or so of robbers, each with a bill powerful
enough to brain her at a blow, but each in a blue-
black funk. Again the partridge hisses and ruffles
her feathers. The foremost of the besieging throng
feels it an unwise honour to lead the attack, and
flops into the air to take a safer place behind its
clamouring comrades, and squawks the more vigor-
ously that the business should be proceeded with.
At last, worn out by the cowardly buffetings of the
merciless throng, the partridge is evicted from her
nest, and with a wrangling chorus of triumphant
squawks the villains guzzle the eggs. That is when
I could use an automatic gun. When I did get a
chance at a rookery, much as I hated the job as
sport, I did things thoroughly. This reminds me
of a lucky coincidence. The owner of a rookery
had let too many young rooks fly away— at least, I
thought so — and as I was passing a clump of trees
in one of my fields in the late evening out flopped a

86 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

young rook straight towards me. Down he went
smartly, and another, and another, and likewise
every one of the seventeen young rooks that were
in that clump. The curious thing was that they
gave me just time to load ; never more than two
came together, and all persisted in flying straight
towards me, when safety and their birthplace lay in
the opposite direction. My seventeenth and last
cartridge accounted for the seventeenth and last
rook.

What I liked best in my war against vermin was
a family stoat-hunt. In this I was of the same
mind as an old keeper whom I had known ever
since I was old enough to get into mischief. This
old fellow told me he would walk ten miles any day
to ' attend to ' a litter of stoats. I was always
ready to go with him. Six or seven is the usual
number of stoats in a litter, though nearly twenty
have been found, with every indication that all
belonged to one mother. The most I ever found
was ten. And there is attached to this litter of ten
a scrap of history which made their circumvention
of special interest to me. Through all one shooting
season I had succeeded in preserving a very beautiful
silvery-white hen pheasant. Not having seen her
for many weeks, I naturally was delighted when
I saw her sitting on one of the nests I found at the
end of May. All went well for a while, till one
Sunday morning, when I went to have a look at

.'•'> ' , f •_ It' .*' i.,1 •

A CONDENSED ' GALLOWS.

NATURALLY MUMMIFIED STOATS,
AFTER TEN YEARS' EXPOSURE TO
ALL WEATHERS.

AN ORDINARY 'GALLOWS.'

VERMIN AND TRAPPING 87

her, with a view to a photograph, I saw before I
got near the nest that something was radically
wrong. ' Stoats,' I said to myself, and had a look
round. They had not interfered with the eggs,
which, of course, were spoiled. I could see where
the soft grass had been pressed aside in furrows as
the spoilers had passed on their tour of destruction.
Following in their wake, I saw where they had
spread out as if scenting prey, or had paused to
enjoy a gambol through a hollow stump or round
a tree-trunk. Their direction told me where they
would be certain to take lodging — in a large solitary
bavin-pile on the edge of a broad ride.

Monday morning came, and two indignant keepers
who had set great store on the nest of that silvery-
white pheasant went forth, each with a gun and a
pocketful of cartridges, and accompanied by the best
little terrier that ever lived. We went to the scene
of the ruined nest. We did not weep over it, but,
having kindled our anger afresh, decided to track
down those stoats, even to the extent of trespassing
in other people's woods. We knew well enough,
we thought, where to go, so that we should have
come upon them straightway — in the bavin-pile by
the broad ride. Perhaps there is something of the
cat-and-mouse business about keepers. So we bored
our way through the underwood, till, following those
furrowy tracks in the soft grass, we came to the
pile, and said to each other simultaneously, ' Here

88 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

they are !' just as if we had expected them to be
anywhere else. There were several hundred bavins
to be moved, but luckily the surroundings for a
few yards were open enough to see a stoat. By
the way, if a wood-pile cannot or must not be
moved, a good * ruxing ' with a long pointed rod
will induce stoats to steal away. We spurned the
question of anything other people might have to
say about the moving of these bavins ; we did not
mean to let off one of these stoats that had assaulted
our silvery-white pheasant.

So we set to work to move the bavin-pile, putting
the little terrier at the far end to prevent premature
bolting, and our guns, loaded, within easy reach.
When we had moved about half the bavins we
began to catch glimpses of lithe, darting forms in
a great state of excitement. I changed places with
the terrier, sending her back to help my companion
keep the stoats forward. I had bowled over five,
when the remainder of the bavin-pile collapsed, and
the rest of the stoats broke back into the shifted
bavins. We had all our work to do over again.
But we got five more stoats, all full-grown. I
missed the last one, either from over-anxiety or
over-confidence ; still, I did miss it, and was
immensely relieved to see my companion ' wipe my
eye/ for he had many tables of this sort to turn on
me. We had got the whole litter — ten of them.
So was the silvery-white pheasant avenged.

VERMIN AND TRAPPING 89

A road-mender, one of Nature's sportsmen, who
helped me with ferreting and so forth, came to me
one morning to say he was coming up a footpath
along the edge of one of my woods, and had 'jest
ketch'd eye on some stooats over agenst' a small
bavin-pile. Road-work had to go for a while, and
we were very soon down there. The first stoat
to bolt was the crafty old mother, and I missed
her by a hair's -breadth, owing to her diving
through some leaves with which we had stopped a
hole in a rabbit's burrow. Having taken precau-
tions that this should not occur again, I got a
sequence of eight young stoats, bigger than their
mother. It is a curious thing, but if you can secure
the mother of a grown-up litter of stoats you can
trap them to her, with ease and certainty ; but it is
quite another matter to trap a mother stoat to her
dead family. However, in this case I had to try,
and as it turned out the mother stoat came very
near proving the exception to the rule.

I had brought with me a trap that worked
particularly well, and set it to the eight young
stoats, so that if their mother came to them she
would run the gravest risk of having to stay with
them. But come she did during the following
night, and, what is more, she removed the whole
of her family without throwing the trap, or even
disarranging the palisade of twigs. I thought a
human being must have removed the bodies. Any-

90 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

way, I saw no more of that old stoat, and thought
she had eluded me altogether. But one morning,
a week afterwards, while I was coming down a
ride a couple of hundred yards from the scene of
the mysterious removal, my terrier stood in no
uncertain way at a small pile of bavins. I had
just started to roll the bavins apart as best I could
with my right hand, keeping my gun cleared for
action with the left, when out whipped a stoat, and
I blew off her head. Being curious to see what
plunder she had beneath the bavins, I moved them,
and there were the eight young stoats I had lost.
Think of the labour of carting them, each one bigger
than herself, a distance of two hundred yards !

Once, having secured part of a litter of stoats,
and having set traps for the rest, I was waiting a
while to watch if anything happened, well knowing
that if only I could get the mother, to secure her
family would be easy. After about ten minutes, I
caught sight of her on the end of a birch log, and
since there was no prospect of a better chance, I
had a go at her at a good fifty yards. She dived
into a rabbit-hole without the least sign of being
hit. But the next morning she was in a trap baited
with two of her young ones, in spite of a broken
thigh. The reason why, up to the time when the
litter breaks up, it is easy to trap young stoats to
their defunct mother seems to be that, although
they long since have ceased to obtain milk from her,

VERMIN AND TRAPPING 91

they still rely upon her to catch them food. So
when she is dead, and fails to bring them any more
food, they make a meal of her without any symptom
of disgust. I had caught a mother stoat in a tunnel
trap, at the end of a hedgerow, as she was leading
her bloodthirsty family into one of my woods.
Some carters were ploughing in the adjoining field,
and, as is the way of carters while at lunch, one of
them took a stroll. Coming to where my trap was,
he saw three large young stoats eating their mother ;
and so intent were they upon their cannibal feast
that the man killed them all with a stick, two at the
same blow.

Litters of stoats are to be found in disused or
' blind ' rabbit-burrows, but bavin-piles or any stacks
of wood are their favourite lodging. It is easy to
tell without a dog whether stoats are using a bavin-
pile or burrow in summer-time ; there will be much
the same evidence of play as around a spot where
there are fox cubs, but in miniature, and without
those strewn remnants of game which as heated
irons pierce the soul of the gamekeeper. The
sight of a litter of stoats in full play about a small
pile of bavins is worth watching : a sort of glorified
game of hide-and-seek it is, as they dart in and
out with the speed of lightning and the lithesome-
ness of vipers.

A stoat will always bolt before a ferret. The
slight advantage which an ordinary ferret possesses

92 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

in strength is counterbalanced by a stoat's activity.
I should say that a pitched battle between a stoat
and a ferret would be a right royal contest, though
doubtless the result would depend on whichever got
first grip in a vital part. I know of one instance
only in which a stoat failed to bolt before a ferret,
for the very sufficient reason that the ferret killed
it. I had lined a dog ferret of ordinary size into a
rabbit burrow, and as he hung tightly to something,
I dug after him. There were no more signs of a
struggle than a ferret and rabbit usually make — not
even a chatter of anger. When I reached the ferret
he had eaten several mouthfuls of a large dog stoat
which evidently he had just killed, and near them
lay a dead rabbit, also just killed. Either the ferret
and stoat had fought for the rabbit, or the stoat had
failed to get past the ferret, the part of the burrow
in which they were being a cul-de-sac.

A stoat chased by a dog, or bolted by a ferret, or
knowing that it is otherwise hunted, offers the most
difficult shot I know of — going like a streak, bound-
ing onwards and leaping in a most puzzling zigzag
way at the same time, so as to make its real direction
difficult to follow, even in a clear space. Both
stoats and weasels are of a curious disposition. For
instance, when, alarmed but not pursued, they have
sought refuge in a hole, they are no sooner inside
than they will appear at the entrance ; but so quick
are they that as a rule it is impossible to get your gun

VERMIN AND TRAPPING 93

up and off before they retreat. I have shot many a
stoat and weasel by training my gun on a hole, and
pulling the instant the creature appeared.

Viewing the question as impartially as I can, I
am against the idea that if stoats and weasels were
preserved there would be no rat plagues. Probably
there would be fewer rats, but I think imper-
ceptibly fewer, unless stoats and weasels became so
numerous (and rabbits, upon which they chiefly prey,
so scarce) that they would prove as great, or a
greater, pest than rats. And besides, stoats and
weasels would be inclined, in so far as they were
inclined at all to attack rats, to deal with the least
objectionable rats — those farthest away from the
habitations of men — instead of those of which it is
most desirable to be rid. Stoats and weasels seldom
attack an old rat, though they will go for young
rats when non-combative prey is not available. A
mother rabbit, though occasionally she will succeed
in driving a stoat away from her little rabbits, at
her worst is nothing to a mother of rats. Is it
likely, therefore, that a stoat or a weasel, by collar-
ing a young rat, would run the risk of a fight to the
death with its mother, when for the sake of a little
trouble, and with slight risk of a kick or a scratch,
young or old rabbits may be had? Rats never
attack stoats and weasels of any age in cold blood,
but only when they themselves or, much more
often, their young are assaulted. Frequently I

94 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

have found nests both of young stoats and weasels
in a rick holding rats — on one occasion a nest
containing nine little stoats, with eyes not yet open,
in a wheat-rick, from which and another next to it
we made a bag of over five hundred sizable rats. I
believe, however, that young stoats and weasels are
removed from rat-infested lodgings before they are
old enough to get into hot water in the absence of
their parents. I remember catching an old weasel
and an old rat in a trap at the same time. It was
set at the corner of a corn-rick, and the rat was
caught by the near hind-leg and the weasel by the
near front-leg ; but whether the weasel meant to eat
the rat or was driving it from its little weasels, I
cannot say. I think if stoats and weasels really
were the conquerors of rats, as some allege, rats
would not stay with them a moment longer than
they could help, in a rick or elsewhere.

Stoats that have young ones to provide for kill a
large number of rabbits, chiefly small ones just
able to run. They destroy also a large number of
pheasants and partridges by ruining their nests,
though they are very seldom successful in catching
the sitting birds. Once while I was kneeling down
more closely to examine a ruined partridge nest,
with the toe of one of my boots over a shallow rut
in an old cart-way, I felt a smart blow, and heard a
ghastly shriek. The guilty stoat had returned, and
saved me further investigation of clues. Stoats will

VERMIN AND TRAPPING 95

often remove and store in the lair of their litter
scores of game eggs ; but, curiously enough, they
leave uneaten probably nine out of every ten they
so take. Once an egg is broken stoats relish the
contents as keenly as do ferrets, yet while removing
eggs they are most careful not to break them. I
believe the explanation of their not eating stolen
eggs is that they cease to recognize them as fit for
food after the scent of the sitting bird has left them.
I have recovered from the lairs of stoats lots of eggs
in which incubation had not started, hatched them
under fowls, and reared birds from them after all.

An under-keeper complained to me that fourteen
* cold ' pheasant eggs had disappeared from a nest
under some brushwood where the underwood had
been cut the previous winter, and he was certain
that the thief was a human being. I went with
him to reconstruct the crime. There, right enough,
was the empty nest — not one of the dead oak-leaves
on which the eggs had rested disturbed ; nor could
I trace a sign of a human footprint. I knelt down,
and was feeling round the edge of the nest when
my finger went into a mole-hole, and against some-
thing hard and round and smooth. I retrieved all
the fourteen eggs from that mole-hole, asked for a
trap, set it in the nest (with twigs above to keep
out pheasants), and soon laid by the legs a fine
dog stoat. This same under-keeper learnt another
lesson about stoats that he had not forgotten up to

96 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

the last time I saw him. He thrust his arm into a
rabbit-stop without previous scrutiny, and an old
stoat fixed him by the hand.

The only hawks now commonly seen — at least, in
North Hampshire — are kestrels and sparrow-hawks,
though I did see two marsh-harriers. I averaged
for ten years on the same ground three nests of
kestrels and two of sparrow-hawks, and they never
did any noticeable damage to the game. Still, very
occasionally a pair of kestrels with a family to
provide for will discover that a field full of helpless
young pheasants provides an easy solution to their
catering difficulties. Then you cannot blame a
keeper for taking preventive steps ; otherwise,
apart from the breaking of the law, kestrels ought
to be preserved. Nor do sparrow-hawks inflict
damage on game to a degree anything like pro-
portionate to the zeal with which their destruction
is sought ; though they, like kestrels, are liable to
play the duece with young game-birds when they
do set about them.

Sparrow-hawks possess the habit, so often fatal
to themselves, of returning again and again to the
same part of a rearing-field, even to the same coop ;
whereas kestrels will swoop on a bird in any part,
and so render their invasions much more difficult to
terminate than those of the sparrow-hawk. By way
of compensation, perhaps, kestrels are not liable to
take game-birds except when they are small ; sparrow-

VERMIN AND TRAPPING 97

hawks, on the other hand, will boldly attack any
bird they can kill and carry, and so are liable, but
not likely, to prove a scourge to the keeper after he
has shifted his birds to covert.

Since kestrels are famous for killing rats and mice
(and, I think, much prefer to deal with mice), I do
not see why on occasion they should not kill small
leverets. One morning in the month of March I
came upon a leveret just killed, by the side of a track
through some young wood ; blood was oozing from
its head, but not as if a stoat or weasel had bitten it.
I set a trap to it, in which, returning in about ten
minutes, I found a kestrel. I reset the trap, and
very soon caught that kestrel's mate. I have seen
a cock sparrow-hawk fly away from the carrion
carcass of a rat, which evidently it had been eating.
Another sparrow-hawk, a hen, I came upon as it
was eating a greenfinch in the bottom of a dell
when a winter wind was blowing. A French
partridge flew across the corner of a wood, and I
shot it ; just as I pulled the trigger a sparrow-hawk
arrived, evidently in pursuit, so I got rather an
unusual right and left. Another sparrow-hawk, an
adult bird, did a funny thing. I was sitting in a hut
in a clump of trees waiting for pigeons. The hawk
came in and perched behind the trunk of a Scotch
fir. A few minutes afterwards a pigeon came, and
I shot it sitting in a tree within a few yards of the
sparrow-hawk, which never budged till I went to

7

98 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

pick up the pigeon. I relate the following account
of an extraordinary coincidence, in the hope of
helping the sparrow-hawk to make a name as a bird
of omen. Just as I had entered a disused cattle-
shed, into which I had not been for years and years,
a pigeon flew in with a sparrow-hawk in close
pursuit. The very same thing had occurred, I
remembered, many years before, the last time I
had shot with a man, just as we had entered this
shed for lunch. I reached home to find that a
telegram had been received announcing the man's
death abroad.

I must confess that I was once badly hoaxed by a
brood of sparrow-hawks that were just able to sit
about on the branches of a larch-tree, in which
was their nest. My ears caught a sound of distant
mewing coming from a certain part of a big wood,
and, having my gun with me, I proceeded to in-
vestigate. There was no doubt that I was getting
nearer and nearer to the mewing, and at last I felt
certain I was within ten yards of the cause, which
I never dreamt was other than kittens. But I could
see neither kittens nor any sign of them. I almost
had persuaded myself that there was something in
the ghost theory, and that perhaps the cats, whose
blood was on my head, had conspired together
against me. But there was a flutter above, and,
peering through the canopy of hazel-leaves, I beheld
the six young sparrow-hawks which had mocked me.

VERMIN AND TRAPPING 99

It is the habit of young sparrow-hawks at this age to
mew for food precisely like kittens in sore distress.

Here is an instance of the thoughtless killing of
a hawk by a keeper. I was walking with an old
keeper through one of his woods, and he was just
telling me how his pheasants had been entirely free
from attack by hawks, when I caught sight of that
lime- washing which tells the story of a hawk's brood
above. I volunteered to climb a tall larch, three-
quarters of the way up which was the nest. No
sooner had I started to admire half a dozen young
kestrels than bang! went the old fellow's gun at a
parent hawk swooping round my head. Fortunately,
only the hawk was bagged.

Neither shall I forget the first wounded sparrow-
hawk which I handled, and I warn the inexperienced
to be careful. It was a large female, and she was
only winged. She struck her talons, each most
horribly sharp and long, into my fingers, so that the
more I tried to free them the worse it was. I will
not try to remember how eventually I got them free
of that terrible grip. But I have much pleasure
in recording that a sign of a game-bird was most
exceptional among the hosts of bird- victims brought
to the hawk nestlings on my ground ; nor do I
think it can be proved that either sparrow-hawks
or kestrels collectively take tribute of game for a
tithe of the year's food.

Hedgehogs are far more numerous, and do far

7—2

ioo TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

more harm to game nests, than most people imagine.
One may detect the work of a hedgehog at a nest
by the clumsy havoc — there is the wide passage
through the herbage, and the eggs are partly eaten
and the remains mixed with the rooted-up material
of the nest (which seems to suggest that the insects
that lurk beneath the nest are thought as much of as
the eggs). Still, there is no getting away from the
fact that a hedgehog invariably falls to an egg-bait
pure and simple. Though eggs or carrion answer
admirably, there is no bait more effective for trapping
hedgehogs than the carcasses of those hogs that have
gone before. In fairness to hedgehogs, it should be
stated that they come more freely to matured than
to fresh bait, not only because of the former's stronger
scent, but for the sake of the maggots it produces
and the beetles it attracts. All the same, this is not
evidence that hedgehogs do not like eggs, and even
birds. I heard of a proved instance in which a
hedgehog attacked pheasants in a coop, and killed
the fowl foster-mother by gnawing out her entrails.
During my first season as a keeper of pheasants
I found there were many hedgehogs in the woods.
I got a hundred and forty odd that season. One
tunnel-trap at an angle of one of the coverts accounted
for forty-four. There passed by this trap a ride, up
which people were not supposed to walk, so I set to
work to print HEDGEHOGS in an elaborate design with
the ones I caught, and made splendid progress till a

VERMIN AND TRAPPING 101

lady trespasser lodged a complaint at headquarters.
Though I was ordered to desist, the lady did not
come that way again, nor the dear dog that usually
accompanied her. Hedgehogs have a bad habit of
camping out in the field-hedges when the partridges
are nesting. A well-schooled dog is the best means
of getting rid of them quickly. I had an old retriever
who brought me eleven hedgehogs out of one short
hedge, and I never knew her to upset a sitting bird
during the whole of her life.

I regret to say that the last surviving pair of
magpies in the locality where I was keepering were
picked up in 1909 by a keeper (not myself) — that is
to say, they were not trapped or shot, but poisoned.
Utterly to exterminate birds so handsome may save
a trifle of game for the gun, but surely such
extremes of preservation can only bring upon the
perpetrators the derision and disgust of all sane
people. A judicious thinning of hawks and magpies
is quite enough to satisfy the demands of any
sportsman, and their extinction is bound to react to
the detriment of the selfish few. In many parts
jays, too, are getting comparatively scarce, though
I am glad to say that, like stoats and weasels, they
are too cunning ever to be wiped out by fair means.
No sane keeper would wish to be without a
sprinkling of jays in his woods, for he has no
more vigilant and useful sentinels. In a wood
where there are jays, neither cat nor fox nor man

102 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

can stir without being spotted and proclaimed.
Jays also take a somewhat uncalled-for delight in
mobbing a barn-owl should it get abroad in the
day-time.

The cunning of jays is shown particularly in their
breeding-time. You may hunt high and low, till
your neck aches as if it were going to break, for
a jay's nest which you know must be in a certain
wood, and not find it ; yet you may pass within a
yard or so of it. You may see the old jays about
day after day, and they may utter a derisive squawk
every time, but never a sound will they make near
their nest. Nor do young jays ever squawk,
unless actually molested, till they are out of the
nest and can fly. Then they make any amount
of noise. I f jays made a practice of eating pheasants'
eggs, it would be almost impossible to have any
wild-bred pheasants, unless there were very few
jays indeed or very many hen pheasants. In other
words, when jays do take it into their heads to suck
pheasants' eggs, they keep it up at a marvellous
rate. In one season, in one wood, I lost over
two hundred pheasants' eggs, their shells (each
with a neat hole through which the contents had
been sampled) remaining in the nests. I came to
the conclusion that it was the work of jays, and
rightly ; for so soon as I had trapped a pair of jays
to pheasants' eggs my losses entirely ceased, at
which I was not sorry. Rabbits' eyes or sheep's

VERMIN AND TRAPPING 103

eyes — in fact, any sort of eyes — are very attractive
baits for jays, provided the trap is skilfully hidden.
But the best bait that I know of is a piece of the
yellow fat from the interior of a fowl. This reminds
me that once, while resetting a trap to such a bait,
after catching a jay, I caught my little finger in its
four-inch jaws.

When it is desirable to thin jays, it is a capital
plan, and both sporting and speedy, to take out a
tame specimen and a gun to likely parts of the
woods. To your bird's squawks the wild ones will
come, and give you a shot or two at a stand. You
must be ready and pretty smart to hit the jays,
as they come silently and swiftly — it is just a flash
of blue, white, and purple, and they are come and
gone. Failing a live jay, a useful imitation call
may be produced by a laurel-leaf and one's own
lips. But there is nothing to equal the genuine
squawk. Jays chiefly are responsible for the
emptiness of so many pigeons' nests, and there is
nothing like a sprinkling of jays for checking the
increase of home-bred pigeons. Unfortunately, jays
are even more fond of rifling the nests of turtle-
doves, which do as much good as pigeons do harm.

Some owls occasionally kill young pheasants
(even when they are big as old partridges),
while others sometimes frighten them ; therefore,
all owls ought to be slain. So reason many keepers
who ought to know better. The truth is this : few

104 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

owls do any harm at all to game, and all owls do
far more good than harm. The short-eared owls,
by preying on young game, may incur the wrath
of the keeper in the North, where they breed, but
seeing that in the South these owls appear only
when there is no young game, there is no case
against them. The worst evidence I ever heard
brought against the barn-owl was that one was
found in possession of a dead pheasant chick, though
there seemed to be considerable doubt as to how
it came by it. It is certain, however, that where
barn-owls forage in the vicinity of young pheasants,
after they go to roost, they are apt to frighten
them. The tawny, brown, or wood, and the long-
eared owls are the only ones against which may be
brought just accusation of killing game. Of the
two, the long-eared sort is the most ferocious,
certainly in appearance. I had shifted a batch of
pheasants to covert, which an assistant was to look
after. The man came to me the morning following
the birds' first night in covert, and said there must
be stoats on the war-path, for he had found a .bird
with its head off. I went to investigate. There
was no doubt about the bird's head being off, and
the flesh was picked off the neck, which told me
that the crime had not been committed by stoats.
The body of the bird lay at the edge of the ride,
and at dusk I set a trap to it, leaving instructions
that it was to be thrown at daybreak next morning,

VERMIN AND TRAPPING 105

if necessary, so as not to catch the pheasants.
When I saw my assistant's face beaming with
triumph, I asked him how many stoats had been
caught. He replied : * Ne'er a one; but we've bin an'
ketch'd the dev'l ' — who turned out to be a long-eared
owl. And no more pheasants were decapitated.

The brown owl also is not above attacking young
pheasants, and at night will knock them out of the
trees. Whichever of the two owls tries a diet
of pheasant, it is likely to continue its depredations,
though it has the decency, as a rule, to kill only
one bird a night. While owls may kill only a few
birds themselves, the chief charge against them is
that they drive many from their perch, to spend
the rest of the night on the ground at the mercy
of foxes, and any vermin on the prowl. And seeing
that the keeper sets great store on the night when
all his birds ' go to tree/ his wrath when they are
frightened from their perches is excusable. Still,
it is well for the keeper, when he sees an owl of the
criminally inclined sort, to stay his hand, and to
reflect that sufficient unto the night is the evil
thereof.

Reviewing the vermin question as a whole — that
is, first, What vermin prey largely on game ? and,
second, What creatures prey on it only occasionally ?
— I admit that there is much room for improvement
in the attitude of keepers. However, I am certain
that since education means enlightenment, and

io6 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

modern preservation and shooting demand keepers
of better education than formerly, the time is not
far distant when all keepers will be men of educa-
tion, and, therefore, of enlightenment. In this way,
and in no other, will come about a rational dis-
crimination in the matter of creatures now so often
slaughtered indiscriminately as vermin. What the
thinking keeper of to-day resents is that all keepers
should be tarred with the sins of individuals ; but
so long as the world lasts gamekeepers will continue
to complain that there is no visible end to vermin,
whether it be clothed in feathers or fur.

CHAPTER VII

PHEASANTS : IN PEACE

Why keepers prefer pheasants to partridges — Advantages of pheasants
over partridges — Comparisons of nesting habits — Hand-rearing —
Ups and downs — The keeper as doctor— Short-tailed pheasants
not appreciated — Peeling eggs — An explanation.

THE pheasant is the apple of the keeper's eye. For
the sake of his pheasants he will suffer all things —
even unto death. When he is ill his thoughts are
not of himself, but of his pheasants ; wet and weary,
he will walk miles to tend them. It is said that one
keeper shot all the nightingales in his woods, lest
their singing should disturb the slumber of his
pheasants. He would have been just the man for
Nero of Rome. At any rate, most keepers live
chiefly for pheasants, and several have died in their
cause.

I do not wish to appear unfair or prejudiced
toward pheasants — they have their place as birds
of distinction and value ; but, except in the matter
of grandeur of plumage, in my estimation they must
take second place to partridges. Apart from their
glorious feathers, which, unfortunately, are of no

107

io8 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

value as food, pheasants, bird for bird, are worth
four times as much as partridges so far as bulk of
food is concerned ; but this gain over partridges in
quantity is cancelled by the flavour of the smaller
birds. There must be some very cogent reasons
for the very manifest preferential love which keepers
have for pheasants. I think there are two reasons.
Firstly, that one pheasant, alive or dead, is equal in
size to four partridges, and, therefore, is equally
conspicuous ; and since the keeper gains credit
chiefly for that which is conspicuous, every pheasant
that he shows brings him as much credit as four
partridges. Secondly, because of the ease with
which so many pheasants practically may be assured
by means of hand-rearing ; and because even wild-
bred pheasants are not nearly so much at the mercy
of the weather in the breeding season as are
partridges — they offer a surer means of gaining
credit, or, at least, of retaining that already
gained.

It is sufficiently obvious that hand -reared
pheasants possess advantages over wild-bred birds ;
but it will be well to explain what I mean by saying
that wild-bred pheasants are not so much at the
mercy of the weather during the breeding season as
are partridges. Pheasants begin to lay early in
April, and go on much later than partridges, which
begin early in May, and, except when they lose
their first clutch of eggs shortly after completion,

PHEASANTS: IN PEACE 109

seldom lay again. Besides, ninety out of a hundred
partridge eggs that fare so well as to hatch are
hatched during the few days on either side of Mid-
summer Day, the period of hatching varying slightly
according to the locality and the forwardness or
backwardness of the season. And so a few days of
cold wet weather, or even a few heavy rain-storms,
coming when the little partridges are less than ten
days old, may not only decimate the broods, but
destroy them wholesale. A rain-storm coming in
the day-time is especially disastrous to foraging
partridge chicks, which it overwhelms before they
can reach the shelter of their parents. Storms at
night are comparatively harmless.

Another pull that wild-hatched pheasant chicks
possess over little partridges is that the woods and
spinneys, which are their natural haunts, besides
being warmer than the open fields, offer better pro-
tection from wet, and a ground-surface not given to
holding water, so that young birds can get about
and feed in comparative comfort. All the same, a
pheasant chick does not enjoy some of the advantages
of the little partridge in this way. The hen pheasant,
as a hatcher of eggs, at the best of times cannot be
compared to the hen partridge. The latter seldom
fails to hatch every one of her eggs that has any
hatch in it. In no case do I remember to have
found that a partridge had left unhatched more than
an egg or so which contained a chick (probably

no TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

dead before deserted). When some of a partridge's
eggs are hatched considerably in advance of the
rest, so that some chicks are ready to have a peep at
the world while others yet are struggling to get out
of the shell, the cock partridge takes charge of them.
The hen pheasant is less fortunate than the hen
partridge. She has no attentive husband all to
herself : always close at hand, and often by her
side, maybe sharing her thoughts of that great day
when they shall lead forth a tribe of sprightly chicks
to catch flies among the lilies of the fields, hunt
for insects lurking among the stems of corn, feast
on juicy seeds of grass and weeds, scramble for
the plunder of ants' nests, bask in the smile of the
sun, or seek shade beneath the soft herbage of
summer. Often I have thought of this loneliness
of the pheasant hen, and have pitied her as she
sat through some sweet day when it is good to
wander.

It is no uncommon thing for a pheasant to leave
half her eggs unhatched, and go off with what chicks
she has, not because the rest of the eggs were
unhatchable, but because they did not hatch with
the rest. Yet I do not think she means wilfully
to desert the chicks struggling within the shell, or
possibly hatched, but still wet and unable to run.
The cause of the trouble is that the first-hatched
chicks by leaving the nest show that they are ready
to go, and the mother, in her anxiety for them,

PHEASANTS: IN PEACE in

leaves too — at the expense of those not ready. I
recall the case of a pheasant that was sitting on ten
eggs. I did not know when she would be due to
hatch, having found her sitting, and counted her
eggs when she was off to feed. However, coming
her way one afternoon, I was surprised to see her
squatting about a foot from her nest, in which were
nine eggs and an empty shell. She was brooding a
strong chick, and had left the nine eggs, chipped,
and each containing a live chick. Another time a
pheasant was sitting on her nest, in which were a
few eggs still to be hatched and two very newly-
hatched chicks, while an inch or two outside the nest
were three fine chicks dead and stiff. So a pheasant
whose eggs do not hatch out together has to choose
one of the two horrible horns of her dilemma. Of
course, should the hen decide to give her remaining
eggs a chance to hatch, all may go well with the
chicks who explore beyond her protection — if the
weather is fine.

Brooding or hovering, which mean protection and
warmth, are the secret of a chick's life in early days ;
the warmth of the mother's body, or of warmth
equal thereto, is quite as essential as suitable food.
Even if she hatches all her eggs, it is unreasonable
to expect a pheasant to rear a large brood except
during a spell of warm days and nights, when the
chicks are comparatively independent of the warmth
supplied by their mother. It is well known how

H2 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

important is a regular temperature in the artificial
hatching of eggs. The rational inference is that it
is equally important in the hatching of eggs by birds
in a wild state. One knows also that eggs must be
turned during incubation. So when the weather is
unseasonably cold, especially during the night (which
is always cold enough), not only do some of the
eggs in a nest become ruined by being chilled, but,
owing to the change of position in the nest, most
of the clutch may be spoiled, or their embryos so
weakened that either they do not hatch at all or
produce useless chicks.

After a breeding season which has not appeared
to be over-cold or over-wet, one may be disappointed
at the supply of pheasants when shooting begins.
There may have been a good hatch, and plenty of
fine, newly-hatched broods may have been seen
about. All may be well while the chicks still are
small enough to allow the whole brood to find
accommodation beneath their mother, and so warmth.
But when the fast-growing chicks become so large
that some must remain in the cold, a continual
scrambling goes on for the inside berths. And so
it ends by the rearing to maturity of no more birds
than if the brood originally had been half as big.
If all hen pheasants left for stock could be relied
upon to rear half a dozen chicks each, there would
be no need for hand- rearing — at least, where there
were no foxes. And still less, if pheasants could

PHEASANTS: IN PEACE 113

be induced to pair, and manage their affairs like
partridges.

The hen pheasant, while somewhat lacking in the
common-sense of the partridge, does not deserve
her proverbial reputation for being a bad mother.
The chief charge against her is that she delights to
kill off her chicks by dragging them through all the
wet grass she can find ; it is rather the chicks them-
selves that run into danger by foraging ahead of
their mother, who, as a rule, does not lead, but
follows, her brood. She scarcely can be expected
to do more than is in her power. And what is in
her power she does. I believe that the cause of the
liability of pheasants' eggs, sat upon by their owners,
not to hatch together is slight chilling. This means
that, though the eggs may have been sat upon the
full time, they have not been sat upon the full time
at the full temperature. The frequency with which
several pheasant eggs remain in the nest unhatched
after the brood has run — in such striking contrast
to the occasional waste egg or two in the nests
of partridges — is not because the eggs contained
unfertilized germs, or were fatally chilled during
hatching, but were spoiled before being sat upon at
all. This is proved, I think, by the fact that, of
eggs laid in genial weather, and waiting to be sat
upon in genial weather, comparatively few are found
to be addled, whatever the proportion left unhatched
in the nest.

8

H4 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

Pheasants seldom cover their eggs while the
clutch is being completed, and then but slightly.
Partridges, on the other hand, not only cover their
eggs almost invariably, but with a considerable
thickness of material, and most carefully. Conse-
quently their eggs, before being sat upon, never
suffer perceptibly from frost.

Though the stock of pheasants left to hatch and
rear their own young be large, and the breeding
season good, the results, following the giving up
of hand-rearing, are sure to be disappointing at
first. It is probable that the larger the stock, the
poorer, in proportion, will be the result of the first
season. At the best of times pheasants are apt
to be slovenly in choosing nesting-sites, and to
lay in each other's nests. These failings are
particularly noticeable in hens bred from a stock
of birds hand-reared for generations, and them-
selves hand-reared and pampered in endless ways.
Most of us have heard the story of the keeper in
whose accounts appeared an item for brandy, his
explanation being that it was to mix with his birds'
food — when the cold wanted keeping out. I think
it best, when giving up rearing, only to leave a
moderate stock, and then not to shoot any hens
for a season. I have proved that not till several
generations after pheasants have been left to breed
in a wild state do they regain the full measure of
their natural shrewdness in taking care of them-

A PHEASANT USURPS A THRUSH'S NEST BUILT ON THE GROUND.

THE REARING-F1ELD.

PHEASANTS: IN PEACE 115

selves and their belongings. The longer your
stock has been wild-bred, the more satisfactory
the results.

The hand-rearing of pheasants is a special
department of a keeper's duties, but it by no
means follows that a successful rearer is a success-
ful all-round keeper. A man may be a fine loader
of cartridges, yet may be unable to hit a hay-stack.
The rearing of pheasants has its charms and its
worries, of great interest to the keeper, but not
to other people — even to the employer, who is apt
to confine his practical interest to the cost. Hand-
rearing is so tainted and controlled by money that
there is not much room left now for woodcraft, the
essence of a gamekeeper's life. Hand-reared
pheasants are quoted at so much a head, or a
hundred, or a thousand, the price being a little
higher or a little lower in a bad or a good season.
This reminds one of the sale of music at so much
a perforated roll.

The rearing of pheasants is the drudgery of a
keeper's work. From early morning till late at night
the keeper is tied to his rearing-field hand and foot.
It is the same old routine day after day, night after
night. But however sick of things he may grow
as the weeks go by, I never yet knew a keeper
who was not as pleased with the first new brood
of chicks as a mother with her latest baby, even
though he may have reared hundreds for years

8—2

n6 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

and years. See with what care he chooses a spot
for their cradling in a coop lime-washed within to
virgin whiteness; how tenderly he handles each
fluffy morsel ! Then how careful he is to see
that each chick is safely brooded beneath the hen
before he fastens the shutter and leaves the coop !
Again and again he will return and kneel down
to peep within, lest a chick may have wandered
from the life-giving warmth. With what care he
will mince the hard-boiled egg for their first feed !
and how proudly he draws your attention to their
sturdiness by saying, * And don't they nip about !'

There are long hours with plenty of hard work
attached to pheasant-rearing, and there is a good
deal of luck. I never had better luck than I did with
the first batch of pheasants I ever reared entirely by
myself. I put out a hundred and seventy chicks
in ten coops, in two rows, and never had a moment's
worry with them. I was able to take to covert a
hundred and sixty-four birds. I never did better.
The second batch, soon after they were hatched,
came in for some days of icy cold wind, which,
besides nearly blowing them bodily away when
they ventured outside the coops, withered them
up. Then, when the weather had improved, and
the survivors were going on nicely, blindness made
its appearance. Only a few birds died from it,
but of the afflicted which recovered, several never
did any good, first failing to get their head-

PHEASANTS: IN PEACE 117

feathers (a process which keepers always are glad
to see completed), and finally suffering severely
when gapes broke out in covert.

By blindness I mean that the eyelids, first of
one eye and soon afterwards of both, are stuck
together by a gummy substance, when, unless
something is done, the afflicted chicks soon starve.
A certain cure is just to tinge a morsel of hard-
boiled white of egg with blue vitriol (sulphate of
copper), and put it down the sufferer's throat.
You must not be too liberal with the vitriol, or
you will save the chick all further liability to
ailments of any sort. By way of external treat-
ment, the eyelids may be anointed with oil of
almonds, and separated so that the bird can see
to feed ; which external treatment should be con-
tinued, if necessary, till the internal dose has taken
effect. I knew one keeper who swore by his own
saliva as a fomentation for the eyelids of blind
pheasants. But individual treatment is tedious —
not that the keeper begrudges any amount of
trouble, if thereby he can rear a pheasant to
maturity. Unfortunately, as I have often proved,
birds, though completely cured of blindness, are
very liable to die off later, especially from gapes.
Chopped onions are particularly beneficial to birds
suffering from gapes, and it is a good plan also
to dress their food, immediately before giving,
with a mixture in the proportion of sixpenny-worth

n8 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

of chloroform to two shillings' worth of best linseed
oil. Of course, there is no cure for the broken-leg
stage of cramp, but I have proved that the following
treatment, if used when the first signs of lameness
appear, will check an outbreak of cramp : Boil
Cayenne pepper with rice — about enough of the
pepper to allow a grain of it to a grain of rice.
Give a liberal allowance of rice so treated for a
few feeds. It is curious to note that the sprinkling
of raw Cayenne on the bird's food does not do
any good. It is something in the boiling that
works the charm.

Some people who had taken a shoot next to
the one I was on came down one July day to
inspect their hand-reared pheasants. All had gone
well, and the keeper looked forward with genuine
pleasure to showing them his birds. The ' gents/
however, did not say much beyond ' Yes-yes ' and
* Just so ' in answer to the keeper's hints for some
appreciative expression. Nor did the keeper under-
stand the reason till he heard one of the ' gents '
say to another that he thought the birds were
'nice and numerous, but that their tails were
absurdly short for pheasants.'

If there is any other game to be considered, it
is most unsatisfactory for a keeper to be ordered
to rear fewer birds than he can manage con-
veniently. A few birds are just as much a tie to
him as many ; he has * got to be there ' just the

PHEASANTS: IN PEACE 119

same. Probably the employer's point of view —
apart from the expense of more birds — is that
the rearing of only a couple of hundred or so
will allow the keeper ample time to look after
the rest of the game on his beat. This is all
very fine in theory. But the fewer his birds,
the less the keeper can afford to lose any from
preventable causes, which are sure to occur if he
rushes round the coops, throws down the food,
and tears off to get to where his presence may
be useful by about the time when he must turn
back for another feed. In the intervals between
feeds the birds are left to the mercy of chance.
It is better not to rear birds at all if the keeper
cannot give them his best attention.

Most people who have had anything to do with
the hatching of eggs, especially game eggs, know
that eggs containing live chicks sometimes will
refuse to hatch in circumstances which are giving
the best results with other eggs of the same sort.
The shell in pieces peels off the membrane, which
shrivels and holds the chicks a fast prisoner. The
cause of the trouble usually is put down to the
dryness of the shells. This is so to a certain
extent, but not, I believe, in the way most people
suppose. Seldom, if ever, are peeled eggs seen
in the nest of a partridge or pheasant, or among
game eggs that have been sat upon from first
to last by fowls. But they often are seen in

120 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

clutches of game eggs which have been cut out
of grass, and have been handed over to a fowl
for the completion of incubation. It is said that
the nests of partridges and pheasants, because
they are on the ground, and almost in actual
contact with the soil, insure a proper supply of
moisture to the eggs. And yet there is the same
perfect hatching of the eggs of French partridges
at the top of the driest pile of straw as on the
ground, and of those of the wild-duck aloft in the
pollarded willow, and even of the pheasant that
occasionally will nest in an ivy-clad tree or on
the top of a stump. And the thick-shelled eggs
of hawks on a dry nest of twigs, hatch well
enough, and so do wood -pigeons'. The same
organic changes must take place in the tissues
of all eggs that hatch out, irrespective of sort or
situation.

In view of this, and of other facts which I have
observed, the peeling of eggs at hatching-time
scarcely can be due to the lack of external moisture.
I believe peeling is caused by a too prolonged
absence from the eggs, during the intermediate
period of incubation, of the temperature necessary
to hatch them, yet not quite long enough to destroy
the life of the chicks. In short, a special weakness
of the chicks is the cause of their not breaking the
shell in the usual way in the first place ; while, in
the second, the actual peeling of the shells is due

PHEASANTS: IN PEACE 121

to the abnormally long attempt to hatch them made
by domestic sitters. Look into the state of things
from the imprisoned chick's point of view. Escape
from the egg is due solely to the exertions of the
chick — the weaker it is, the less strength it has to
make the necessary exertions. But the drier and
more brittle the outside wall of shell is — rather than
moist and tough — the easier it is to break ; and,
conversely, the drier the inside membranous bag
which encloses the chick, the tougher it becomes,
and the harder to burst or tear. A chick is ready to
escape from the shell directly the process of absorb-
ing the yolk is completed. If it does not escape in
due time, while the membrane is moist and easily
rent, what happens ? Why, owing to the admission
of air through the 'chip-hole,' the membrane dries,
toughens, and shrivels about the chick, which
perishes, and the shell, which cannot shrink, peels
off in pieces. Thus we have, I think, the true ex-
planation of that trouble for which many of us have
hoped there was a remedy other than prevention.

CHAPTER VIII

PHEASANTS: IN WAR

To the keeper a pheasant is a pheasant — Wild v. hand-reared for
shooting— Craftiness of wild birds — Little and big coverts—A
keeper's dodge— My first pheasant shoot— Bad guns make bad
birds — A beater's comment — Woods alter — Fog.

PROVIDED it is a good one, I do not care a rap
whether a pheasant is hand-reared or wild when I
am shooting at it ; and the better it is, the less I
care. Who shall say of any pheasant whether it
was in bondage bred or free ? Certainly not the
men who most often express an opinion on the
antecedents of birds they have missed ; neither
can the keeper do better than guess. To him a
pheasant is a pheasant in the shooting season, and
so long as it puts in an appearance when shooting
is going on, he does not care how or whence it
came. However, he is always positive that every
pheasant seen near the boundary is one of his tame
birds.

Wild pheasants are better than hand-reared birds
for keeping up the stock for breeding. When you
shoot through a wood at the end of the season,

122

PHEASANTS: IN WAR 123

and see a hundred hens — if they are wild ones, you
may reckon on a good many more unseen. But if
you see a hundred hand-reared birds, probably you see
all that there are to be seen. This is fortunate, par-
ticularly from the keeper's point of view. For when
he is expected to produce so many pheasants for
the following shooting season, by hand-rearing he
can manage it from a much smaller stock than if
dependent entirely on the efforts and luck of birds
allowed to conduct their own affairs. And wild
birds are easier to keep at home, though it is
uncertain in what part of it you will find them.
Provided their home is reasonably attractive com-
pared to the state of things beyond bounds, wild-
bred pheasants relieve the keeper from that worrying
tendency of hand-reared birds to stray, and to stay
where they stray. Wild birds are not nearly so
easy to manage, and therefore to show, as so-called
tame ones ; and so the keeper naturally prefers the
latter, since, as is so much the case in these days,
the demand is for a concentrated show. I should
say that a hundred tame birds are likely to make
a better one-day show than half as many again of
wild ones.

During a day's shooting the leakage of wild birds
is so much greater than that of tame ones, in all the
many ways in which pheasants can give one the
slip. Assuming that you have cut off the escape of
wild birds in every direction, they are by no means

124 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

as good as put over the guns. When they find
that every loophole of escape by their legs is barred,
they squat, and do not keep running about in a herd
like tame birds, which stop every now and again
and look up, as much as to say, ' Here's a state of
things ! What had we better do ?' On come the
beaters, and your wild birds have to make, up their
minds whether they will fly at all, and, if so, whether
over the guns or the beaters, or whether they will
lie low and chance being passed over. And a wild
pheasant that elects to lie low is cunning enough
not to budge unless almost trodden upon. And
they are dreadful offenders at breaking back. They
are wonderfully quick in noting that the sticks and
curses of beaters are less offensive than the banging
and expressions of disappointment of the men with
guns.

It is especially in small coverts that wild birds
compare unfavourably with tame ones — which can
be driven with a fair amount of certainty from
covert to covert, backwards and forwards, more or
less how you like ; but wild birds, when they can
see the guns standing in the open, very much prefer
to go back, no matter in what direction you try to
drive them. In big woods they give much better
results than hand-reared birds, fizzing up through
the tree-tops and away at a fine pace, instead of
flopping across the rides as tame birds mostly do.
Talking of pheasants fizzing up reminds me of a

PHEASANTS: IN WAR 125

dodge of a keeper whom I often went to help on
shooting-days. Two or three of us would be given
live pheasants to put in our pockets, and when the
guns came out of the house it would be suggested
that a clump of very thick high laurels might be
worth 'running' through. In we would go till we
got to the middle, where there was a shaft-like
opening, up which we would start our birds.

The first day's covert-shooting which I managed
was a great event. I had a hundred and seventy
birds handed over to me when they were fit to go
to covert. We carried them on a stretcher — coops,
hens, and pheasants, two coops at a time — from
the rearing-field to my covert, a good half-mile away.
And I was not sorry when that part of the job was
over. How proud I was of those birds ! and what
a show they made in the long days of their innocence
when I * fed ' along the broad ride ! As they grew
older they grew shier. When the time of shooting
drew near, though I knew by various signs that my
birds were about the covert, I would have given
a good deal for a sight of them all together. For
about a month before shooting-time it is usual for
keepers to complain that their birds must be straying
away, because they do not see them at the feeding-
places, and the food is not cleared up. The reason
is that there is an abundance of natural food, which
the birds prefer to that provided by the keeper.
Pheasants will leave wheat untouched if they can

126 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

get plenty of the spangles to be found on the under-
sides of fallen oak-leaves.

Though, the night before my shoot, I went to bed
confident of a good day on the morrow, I did not
have a good night. I seemed to be dreaming all
the time of shooting my wood. How we beat and
beat, and never flushed a pheasant — never so much
as saw one running among the underwood, which
seemed to be so thin that one could see through
it from ride to ride ! And then it seemed that I was
not beating, but standing as one of the guns at the
best beat, according to the plan of beating which I
had arranged. Pheasants seemed to be getting up
in a continuous stream, but my gun vanished each
time I tried to shoot. Breakfast restored my con-
fidence. We had a capital day. The bag was
ninety-two pheasants ; of course, it ought to have
been a hundred. Everyone was pleased, myself
most of all. I got some tips. But what were they
compared to success ?

I am one of the many admirers of a tall pheasant.
Frequently I have been obliged to prolong my
admiration thereof while two little wreaths of smoke
have wandered from the muzzle of my gun. Next
to having a go at them myself, I enjoy putting good
birds over other guns, but I have grown very sick of
it when the shooting has been a mere farce. Many
a time I have rushed birds over the guns to shorten
the annoyance of seeing them missed. Here is a

PHEASANTS: IN WAR 127

brief but horrible account of a performance at as
pretty a rise as ever I organized. All the shooters,
only one of whom was worthy to be called a gun,
were forward ; and all the birds, of which there were
over two hundred, went forward except two or three.
There was no rushing, the birds going one or two at
a time, never more than four. Each one of them
was good to see. The result was that the gun who
could shoot (and, of course, had least shooting) got
nine, and the others (I do not remember what the
beaters called them besides shooters, but several
things) six between them, the best individual per-
formance being the firing of thirty-eight shots from
one gun — not an ejector — for three pheasants. I
since have heard of (only, I am glad to say) a man
who emptied a hundred and seventy cartridges at
one stand, and bagged seven pheasants. However,
another gun, who was at the same stand when the
beat was taken a second time the same day, pulled
down ninety-two by way of atonement. I never
could understand what satisfaction some people get
out of blazing away all day for nothing. As one of
my beaters put it, ' they must have a devilish good
cheek to stand there and do it.'

This is how bad shooting affects the keeper —
my beautiful rise reduced the bag for the whole
wood to nineteen. I had arranged everything
with a view to make as many birds as possible
available for the full-cream shooting. I suppose

ia8 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

I could have made sure of about a hundred of
those pheasants by driving them to and fro over
the rides. You seldom find a keeper reluctant
to show his birds in a sporting way, if the guns
are likely to hit a fair proportion of them. But
when guns are known or prove to be consistently
bad, can it be wondered at that keepers should
give some thought to the bag, by which, un-
fortunately, tips too often are measured ? It is
not human for men who, to quote from the
language of beaters, have shot ' summat scandalous '
or * rascallion-bad ' to be generous.

I often have seen pheasants fail to give sport
in circumstances apparently the same as when,
on many other occasions, they have come well.
Suppose one has a wood which is not only of
convenient size to take in one beat right out to
the guns in the open, but, so beaten, gives a
maximum amount of shooting at birds passably
good, if not actually tall — this may be so for several
years, while the underwood is fairly short and thick
at the bottom. Then there comes a time when the
birds will persist in going back, while those that
do come forward do not rise far enough away
to be good when they reach the guns. Often
have I seen this sort of thing, and heard people
discussing the puzzle, which generally was put
down to the birds' ' cussedness.' (No pheasants
will face guns in the open in the teeth of a gale,

PHEASANTS : IN WAR 129

in any circumstances.) This is what I believe
to be the explanation of the cussedness puzzle :
So long as the stuff is young, thick at the bottom,
and short enough for pheasants to get a view of the
advancing beaters over the top of the underwood,
the birds go forward readily. Probably you get
a prolonged rise, free from any undesirable rush
at the finish. When, however, the underwood
grows old and tall, it becomes correspondingly
thinner at the bottom, but thicker at the top.
Naturally the birds find it more convenient to
run than to rise through a network of twigs.
And so the majority run on, peep out, see the
guns, retire, and squat in close formation just
within the wood. There they squat, and watch
the reception given to any hares and other creatures
which venture to make a dash for it. The guns
begin to think there can be no birds in the wood.
The keeper longs for shooting to relieve the tension
of his mind, and to deaden the apparently profitless
tapping of the beaters' sticks. He racks his brains
to think how, where, and by whom some dreadful
mistake has been made ; whether the stops have
1 played the fool/ come away from their stations
prematurely, or goodness knows what. Whatever
has happened, he will get the blame. Then suddenly
there is a sound of many wings, punctuated by the
shouts of excited beaters and the cries of cocks
in a mighty hurry — but few shots. The birds

9

130 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

come sailing back, streams of them ; nothing seems
to stem the tide of wings. A few shots, and the
beat is finished. All is wrong, and nothing right.

There is no absolute cure for this state of
things, but there are several ways of bringing
about an improvement. The worst, though it is
better than none at all, is to place the guns so
near to the wood that the retreating birds are
within their reach. Another is to have butts
made some time before, of hurdles or lengths of
wire-netting, draped with fir-boughs, bracken, or
other suitable local material. And then, though
the birds may come forward in fair numbers, they
are low — most of them too low to be taken in front.
Pits could be dug, so that the heads of the guns
are below the ground-level — the birds doubtless
would come forward well enough, but only about
far enough from the ground to allow them to use
their wings, and a good many would be content
to use their legs. Where expense is no objection,
or underwood is of little value, and landlords and
others are willing, another plan is this : Cut down
and clear a strip right across the covert, about thirty
yards wide, and the same from the guns' end of it.
Before beating begins, erect netting along the edge
of the clearing nearest the guns. Then the birds
must rise, and they have a clear start. Not finding
enough width of wood to allow them to settle again,
they go to the guns decently. But the best way of

PHEASANTS: IN WAR 131

all to compromise the matter, provided the field in
which the guns must stand slopes away from the
wood, is to put the guns right back under the
opposite wood. Then the birds, when they peep
outside, probably are unable to see the guns, and
come forward. By the time when they catch sight
of the guns they are so well under way, and so
near the second wood, that they continue onwards,
merely rising higher and higher — the very thing
required of them.

Fog is not pleasant at any time, but it is a
nuisance on shooting-days — unless your object is
wood-pigeons. Partridge -driving in a thick fog
is not only too dangerous, but impossible ; while
anything beyond a veil of fog takes all the polish
off a day's covert-shooting. Yet there are circum-
stances connected with pheasant-shooting in which
a moderate density of fog will permit sporting
shooting probably quite out of the question in
clear weather. Suppose one has been beating a
big covert all day, in clear weather, towards the
final corner — as a rule, it is almost useless to try
to force birds from their home across the open at
any time of the day. Much more so is it useless
to try late in the day, when the birds are thinking
about going to roost. So the last corner, crowded
with birds, has to be brought back over a ride.
Now is the time when a fog of fair density comes
to the rescue. Instead of making your last corner

9—2

132 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

into a slaughter-house, you may place the guns in
the open, and your pheasants will go to them as if
they liked it.

Pheasant-shooting on a foggy day makes it harder
to put the birds up, and even if you employ
double the usual number of stops, a lot of birds will
give you the slip. Besides, the birds that have
passed over the guns may soar so high in a fog as
to pass right over another covert, into which, in
clear weather, they would have gone most con-
veniently. Happy is the keeper whose lot is cast
in a country where there are no fogs, but plenty
of pheasants, which it is more difficult to show low
enough than high enough.

CHAPTER IX

HARES AND RABBITS

Hares more satisfactory than rabbits— Keep your hares quiet— Hares
and hounds — Hare disease — Damage by hares — Rabbits, rats,
and roots— How rabbits use their teeth— Hares and holes-
Shooting hares— Rabbit-shooters — Warm work.

I WAS so fortunate as to have a sprinkling of hares
on all the land over which I was keeper. And as
I was obliged to keep down rabbits — if possible,
to the point of extinction — I saw no reason why I
should not compromise matters by getting up the
hares. A bag of twenty hares was considered very
good for one day. We got twenty at my first
covert shoot. Then the bag rose to forty (which
was equal to the known record for the wood), and
after another year or so to fifty. The most we ever
got was sixty-four; and that was in two-thirds of
the wood, when the rest was cut down and bare.
Though the largest, it was the worst hare covert
I had. It is fair to the covert to say that not a
yard of netting was used when the sixty-four hares
were killed, and that they were obtained incidentally
with eighty-two wild pheasants. I suppose that,

133

134 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

with the aid of netting, we should have bagged well
over a hundred hares ; for the guns that day, by
way of a very welcome change, were all useful. I
had one little wood — only thirty-nine acres — and in
the first beat of it — less than fifteen acres — I am
certain good guns could have bagged a hundred
hares the first time through.

A sprinkling of hares is a great help to a day's
covert-shooting. There was never a dull moment
in my woods on shooting-days ; always there were
hares on the move, even before the beaters started.
By the time the pheasant stage of a beat had
arrived most of the hares had run the gauntlet
(I remember one hare that jumped clean over a
beater who tried to stop it from breaking back).
Where pheasants are the only game, there is a
great deal of dulness, punctuated occasionally by
a burst of furious firing. Rabbits do not improve
matters much, since they come mostly when it is all
hands to the pheasants. And with hares there is no
bother about stopping them out, with the consequent
disturbance of coverts. All that is necessary is to
keep them quiet. Once it was suggested to me,
when my coverts were to be shot the second time,
that I should beat them chiefly for hares, as there
were not many pheasants to spare. I said I had
intended to do so had there been any hares in them.
1 was informed that there were any amount of hares
in them, because they had been seen a few days

HARES AND RABBITS 135

before, when the hounds were there. I said that
was the very reason why they were not there now.
But it was not much fun proving to the hilt how
hares hate hounds.

I do not think that the typhous disease from
which hares suffer is caused by overcrowding, since
it occurs where hares are numerous or few. Feed-
ing on frosted clover I am certain has a great deal
to do with the disease. The worst outbreak I ever
had was after a very wet, mild autumn, when there
came a sudden frost. The clover was very rank
and sappy. That winter I found the dead bodies
of sixty odd hares on a thirty-five-acre field of
clover.

Every year, so soon as the hares' runs on the
clover turned black (owing to the frosted leaves
being bruised by the hares' feet), we began to find
dead and ailing hares. The smaller the hare, the
sooner it succumbed. The hares which lived in my
woods, near which there was no clover, scarcely
suffered at all from the disease. It is a mistake to
suppose that hares go miles for food if they are
well provided near home, I had a stack of barley-
rakings to about every fifteen acres of covert, and
it was no uncommon sight at any hour of the day
to see half a dozen hares feeding at one stack.
Give hares a quiet wood containing plenty of
underwood stumps for shelter, some barley-stacks
to feed at, and an adjoining field of old sainfoin,

136 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

and nine out of ten will be content to stay at home
all through the winter.

It is obvious that one hare eats as much food
as one rabbit. Yet if there are twenty hares and
twenty rabbits living on the same farm, the rabbits
soon may bring upon their heads the wrath of man,
while the hares, though they eat probably a greater
quantity of food — that is, do more damage — provoke
no murmur of complaint. So it seems logical that
if rabbits, even in small numbers, are injurious to
the welfare of woods and farming interests, the
same quantity of hares must inflict at least an equal
amount of damage. But this is not so in fact.
Rabbits prefer to feed as close as possible to their
lodgings, and make a clean sweep as they go, clear-
ing a crop before them, as do sheep in a fold.
Hares, on the other hand, move about, and take
a nibble here and there, and unless they are very
numerous, the only material damage they do is to
clear a few roads through the corn in summer, and
to gnaw a few roots in winter. In the latter case,
they are so considerate as to stick to a root till
finished, instead of chipping fresh ones, and so
causing them to rot.

Fortunately, those who preside over farming
interests, whether tenant-farmers or bailiffs, are not
given to expressing concern for what their eyes do
not see ; and even if a farmer does complain that
hares are nibbling his wheat in spring, when it is

HARES AND RABBITS 137

beginning to grow luxuriantly, one always can ask
in what way that does harm. While he is trying
to think of a convincing answer, remind him of the
time when farmers gloried in their wheat, and did
everything for the good of the great crops they
grew, not only sowing it in clean land and hoeing
it, but folding sheep over it in the spring, to eat the
green tops and tread the roots firmly in the soil.
Now, considering that a hare at its worst does no
more than eat about half the length of each green
blade of wheat which it selects, the result, far from
being damaging, must tend to improvement. I
won a great victory over a lord high bailiff of an
estate, on which I began to get up the stock of
hares. He had several fields of wheat which
promised very fairly. But so soon as the ears grew
heavy with corn, just before ripening, about one in
three of the stems fell down. This I observed.
The bailiff met me ; he was genuinely furious, and
told me that he had got judgment against the hares.
I thought this was all very fine, and tried to reason
with the man, but he would not. So I determined
to play him at his own game. I appealed to Caesar,
and found things as the bailiff had told me. I
pointed out that the hares certainly had made a few
roads through the wheat, but that even the bailiff
had made no complaint as to what they had eaten.
And was it possible, I asked, for anyone who
thought for one moment to believe that hares could

138 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

knock down one stem in three, evenly, all over
several fields? and suggested that the true cause
was want of firmness of ground — the essence of
wheat's prosperity. There were no more complaints
about hares.

I had only one other skirmish with this bailiff —
quite a friendly one between ourselves. There was
an isolated field of kale and swedes half a mile from
the nearest wood. In this wood the bailiff himself
admitted there were no rabbits, but he would have
it that there were ' a tidy few ' in the root-field. I
knew that I had failed the previous afternoon to
find a couple in the whole field. Partly out of
curiosity, and partly to avoid a possible court-martial,
I asked the bailiff what evidence he had to prove
there were 'a tidy few' rabbits. He could see, he
declared, where they had gnawed the swedes.
Whereupon I inquired if he knew whether there
was any difference between the gnawing of rabbits
and the gnawing of rats, and, if so, what it was.
He could not say that he did. So I took the
trouble to show him. A rat chisels even-sized pieces
off roots, eats the flesh, and leaves the rind. A
rabbit gnaws away at a root, and eats the rind and
flesh as it comes. I took this opportunity to repeat
a suggestion that some rat-infested stacks should
be threshed.

A keeper never must consent to be lorded over by
a bailiff. Bailiffs are inclined to be unwarrantably

HARES AND RABBITS 139

dictatorial, possibly because, like the centurion of
old, they have many men under them. However, I
managed, after sticking to my guns, to work with
several bailiffs in peace and quietness and pleasure.
Here is a story of how a keeper of many rabbits got
the better of a bailiff. The bailiff, whose sheep
were many but turnips few, had lodged a complaint
with the employer. The keeper found out the
day appointed for inspecting the turnips. Snow lay
on the ground, and there were rabbits' tracks near
every turnip. So the keeper went stealthily the
night before, after the shepherd had gone home,
and let out the sheep. The bailiffs case not
only fell to the ground, but he was admonished
to see that in the future the sheep were better
secured.

It is a common habit of those who manage farms,
when the sowing of corn or roots is going on, to
neglect the tillage of a headland adjoining a wood,
and after the crop has struggled up thinly to use
that part as a road. They then attribute the com-
parative failure of the crop in that part of the field
to rabbits, which, likely enough, do not exist. In
my greener days a farmer tried to make out that
the two or three rabbits in my wood had cleared
a field of wheat. I told him he knew there never
had been a decent plant of wheat, which, as luck
would have it, was much thicker along the edge of
the wood than anywhere else. This, I suggested,

140 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

seemed to prove that rabbit fertilizer was better than
none at all.

Rabbit-snarers often will complain that someone
steals their rabbits because the string securing the
snare to the peg apparently has been cut. I do not
say people will not take rabbits, and sometimes the
snares in which they are caught as well. But a
rabbit can cut a string with its teeth as cleanly as a
man can do it with a knife. Once when I was
ferreting in a dell a rabbit came up to a net, nipped
a mesh, and hopped through the aperture, within a
yard of my face. Occasionally I have had a fine
dig when a rabbit has cut the line on a ferret. One
rabbit cut a new line three times, as fast as I sent in
a fresh ferret. Curiously enough, this happened in
the same burrow of the dell where the rabbit had
nipped the mesh of the net and escaped. We always
suspected the same rabbit of all the cutting.

Once or twice I have trapped hares at the mouth
of a rabbit-hole, to which I concluded they must
have gone in search of a sheltered seat. I know of
one instance only in which a hare has gone right
down a rabbit's burrow. I was with a shooting-
party walking some sainfoin for partridges, when a
leveret about two-thirds grown jumped up, and
offered a gun an easy crossing shot ; but as the
range was not more than twenty yards, there was no
hurry. However, just as the trigger was pulled the
hare disappeared as if swallowed by the earth, and

HARES AND RABBITS 141

was seen no more. It had taken a rabbit-run which
led it in the nick of time to safety.

There is a saying that any fool can hit a hare.
But it is better not to be able to hit hares at all than
always to hit them in their hinder parts. I knew a
keeper who could shoot rabbits cleanly one after the
other in any circumstances, yet he was useless at
hares, which he seldom failed to miss altogether.
On hares there is more preventable suffering inflicted
by the thoughtless and the unskilled than on any
other game — if only for this reason, it is a good
thing that hares in many parts are extinct. Surely,
if a man can manage to hit a partridge occasionally,
he can remember, when shooting at a hare, that its
head and neck represent an area equal to that of a
partridge. If he cannot, his intellect must be so
weak that he ought not to be allowed to shoot at all,
unless by way of suicidal practice. Once I was
feeling so disgusted with a shooter for persisting in
blazing at hares out of reasonable range that when
he said to me, * Did I hit that hare ?' I asked, ' Why
did you shoot ?

More than one dog has been shot instead of the
object which it was pursuing. A party of guns were
shooting in a wood. As the underwood was thick,
and the beaters were few and game was scarce, the
host sent a favourite Irish terrier to enliven the pro-
ceedings. There was a double shot. One of the
party took an early opportunity to inform the host

142 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

that the gentleman on his left had fired the first
barrel at a hare and the second at the terrier, but
apparently without damaging either. The host
explained that he did not object to that particular
gunner shooting at his dog, so long as he aimed at
it, adding : 'It is only when he is aiming at other
things that my dog is in danger.'

It happened at a covert shoot at which I was
present that two of the guns were posted in a field
on the flank of a beat, while the rest of the party
were out of sight round the corner. A hare broke
out between the two flank guns, to be clean missed
with both barrels by one of them, who, after the
beat was over, jeered at the forward guns for
stopping so few pheasants. ' But,' asked one, ' what
was that double shot on your side ?' He was told
that a hare was the cause. ' Then you missed it ?'
' No ; it ran between us, and I fired off merely
to call the other fellow's attention to it/ came the
ingenious excuse.

I remember a huntsman who went in for shooting
as well as the pursuit of the fox. He frequently
figured at local rabbit shoots, though he was invited
chiefly from motives of courtesy and diplomacy, for
he never helped the bag. However, he had a
stock method of enticing attention from his atrocious
aiming. Following his every shot you would hear,
in tones unwarrantably cheerful : ' Gone awa-ay.'
* 'It 'ard.; ' Look out ; comin' down to you, sir !'

HARES AND RABBITS 143

I have had a lot of fun, not necessarily at the
expense of rabbits, but of the people associated with
me in their pursuit. If you would meet people
shooting without a licence in their pocket, go to a
rabbit shoot. There is a story of a nobleman who,
with his two unlicensed sons, was trying to shoot
rabbits, when the local constable put in an appear-
ance. The keeper intimated the constable's arrival
to his master (who, besides being a nobleman, was
a magistrate). The nobleman said : * Oh — er — give
the man a couple of rabbits, and tell him to go.'
' Very good, m'lord,' the keeper answered, ( but we
ain't shot none.'

A would-be shooter of rabbits was complaining to
me that a rabbit he had killed, dead, had not been
picked up. Naturally my sympathy was aroused,
and I asked for details before making inquiry among
the beaters. ' He came tearing along at forty miles
an hour/ the shooter explained, ' and I let him have
it at about eight yards and a half. And I'm sure
he's dead, because I shot his front foot right off.'
I told him I hoped we should find the rabbit, and
perhaps its front foot. Another man gave me two
incidents on the same day. I heard afterwards that
he was a commercial traveller. At any rate, he
wore a navy blue Chesterfield top-coat (with a lovely
velvet collar) and a bowler, and his weapon appeared
to be of the presentation type. I found myself
posted in a ride on this man's right. Apart from

144 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

his general appearance, my attention was particu-
larly attracted by the way in which he presented
arms, so to speak. He poised his piece as one
would a dart, so that the butt-end of the stock just
cleared his right ear. I thought what a nice tap he
would get under the ear if the gun were to go off.
But what astonished me, since I could see no rabbits
moving, was that the man remained for a good
five minutes in this extraordinary state of presented
arms. At last I made so bold as to ask him if he
could see a rabbit. He answered cheerfully : 'Not
at this moment, but I saw one quite recently.' In
return for this information I gave him a hint on
the risk run by his right ear. Curiously enough,
the man turned out to be quite harmless, not only
to rabbits, but to human beings. After lunch he
and I were walking among some dead bracken on
either side of a broad grass cart-track. A rabbit
was put up, and came at full speed past my colleague
at a range of about thirty yards — a pretty broadside
shot over the green cart-track. Two shots were
fired almost as one, and the rabbit turned a summer-
sault on the turf. My colleague waved his bowler
aloft, saying : * Ah, I knew I'd got that beggar —
had a fair line on 'im.' I let him revel in the bliss
of ignorance.

I came very near shooting a fellow gun at one
of these rabbit shoots. I was standing in a flank
ride, after the beaters, interspersed with guns, had

HARES AND RABBITS 145

passed me. They were about sixty yards ahead,
when shortly after a chorus of ' Rabbit back P I saw
a rabbit coming just right for me. It would have
been perfectly safe to have shot so soon as the
rabbit was near enough, but, being in a strange
wood, I decided to be doubly on the safe side ;
so I did not fire till I could do so in a direction
opposite to that of the beaters. Imagine my horror
on going to fetch the rabbit, which lay at the foot
of a tree, when from behind the tree came a hand,
and a voice saying : ' All right, I'll pick 'e up.'
One of the guns had dropped out of the beating
line, and had sat down behind the tree without
saying a word. I took good care to shoot at no
more rabbits that day in line with a tree.

Not knowing what was in store, I went to a
rabbit-shoot, which proved to be for keepers and
tenants and their friends and acquaintance generally.
I saw the head-keeper at the start, but afterwards
could not make out where he had got to till just
before lunch. After a beat or two I became so
alarmed that I retired from all active part in the
fray, and spent the time in taking cover. Some of
the guns thought nothing of blazing at a rabbit
running between each other's legs. A last I found
myself at the far end of the wood, where I was
delighted to find the head-keeper, sitting on a
stump, smoking peacefully. He was not surprised
at my adventures, and explained that he had told

10

146 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

the guns ' they was welcome to kill all the rabbits,
but if they wanted to shoot anything else they must
shoot theirselves.'

Apart from other considerations, too many rabbits
are not good for game ; but it would be a sorry
prospect for keepers, game, and foxes if rabbits
were exterminated, for they are the buffers of peace
in the community of the woods.

CHAPTER X

WOOD-PIGEONS AND WILD-FOWL

The difficulty, uncertainty, and charm of pigeon-shooting — Novel
pigeon-shooting — Value of first innings — Best time — Hints —
Habits of pigeons — A pigeon and a stone — Turtle-doves — A
warm corner — Pigeons at ponds — Food of pigeons — Pigeon
diphtheria — A slice of luck — Winter work.

WOOD-PIGEONS are the wild-fowl of waterless districts.
I have had my share of sport with wood-pigeons if
I never have any more ; also I have missed my share
of pigeons. The man who can hit wood-pigeons
can hit anything that flies. Not every man has
killed a brace from a covey of driven partridges
so that both birds have fallen to the ground in front
of him — to accomplish the feat at the expense of
wood-pigeons coming straight is not so simple as it
seems. I never did it with partridges, but managed
it with wood-pigeons once, and once only. I came
within an ace of doing it a second time during the
last days in my keeper's berth, but the second bird
fell, as it were, 'on the line/ However, to score a
double, at wood-pigeons, brings, in my experience of
shooting, as much satisfaction as anything, no matter

147 10 — 2

148 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

how or where the birds fall. There is nothing like
wood-pigeon shooting for teaching a man how to
take birds coming to him, and the habit of aiming
well forward, which is the keynote of good work.

There is no prospect of wood-pigeon shooting
becoming a fashionable sport, if only because of its
uncertainty. Yet uncertainty in any sport is half
its attraction. You may go out to shoot pigeons on
a dozen days ; on many of them you may not get
a shot, and you will be lucky to make one double-
figure bag. Yet you never know when you are
going to be let in for a real good innings, so it is
a golden rule always to take plenty of cartridges.
I have lost several chances to do great things
through shortage of cartridges. The best of pigeon-
shooting is that it lasts almost the year round, and
that without bringing about even a desirable
decrease in the numbers of the birds. Naturally
one shrinks from killing wood-pigeons during the
height of their breeding-time, which is from the
middle of May till the middle of July. By the
latter date many young birds will have joined the
crowds of pigeons that invade fields of ripening
corn. Rye, winter oats, and winter barley are the
first grains to ripen ; but so soon as the ears of
wheat begin to assume a bronze shade, though still far
from ripe, pigeons will come to wheat in preference
to all else. They might prefer ripe peas and
vetches, but these are not available till much later

WOOD-PIGEONS AND WILD-FOWL 149

on, and, curiously enough, pigeons do not care for
them till decidedly ripe.

The most curious pigeon-shooting that ever fell
to my lot was more like walking up partridges. I
discovered it quite by accident. I had occasion to
cut across a huge open field, and walked along a
furrow through some clover. I had not gone far
when up got a pigeon, and a little farther on another,
and so on, till I found myself with six pigeons in my
pocket. The pigeons had discovered some self-
sown barley among the clover, which was neither
thick nor high. I must have bagged the six while
walking not more than three hundred yards straight
up the furrow. The hearing of wood-pigeons is
much less keen than most people suppose — infinitely
inferior to that of partridges and pheasants — but I
never have met with pigeons harder of hearing than
were these. It seemed incredible that the first shot
I fired should not have put up every pigeon in the
field. I had not time, neither did I want any more
pigeons, nor had I many more cartridges, nor
perhaps would the farmer have appreciated it ; but
to have walked the whole of that clover-field must
have resulted in a good bag. I came that way next
day, but saw no more pigeons.

The secret of getting the cream of pigeon-shooting
when the birds come to the colouring wheat is to
have first innings at each field. They will not come
to a field with the same gluttonous abandon after a

150 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

taste of its wheat mingled with lead ; and if you can
manage to get first innings at the first wheat-field to
which pigeons take a fancy, you may obtain sport
which neither yourself nor the pigeons will forget
for some time. So it is well, towards the middle of
July, to keep a look-out ; but do not disturb the first
few pigeons that visit a field : wait till they come in
streams. Sometimes pigeons are so keen on the
milky wheat (which they guzzle, husk and all) that
plenty of shooting may be had at any time during
daylight ; and it is well worth while, more especially
when having a first go at them, to be on the spot
from daylight to dusk. I have found, however, that
the favourite time for pigeons to feed in summer is
the hour on each side of six in the evening. They
come then in smaller bunches, with greater fre-
quency, and straighter and lower, than during any
other part of the day. Then, too, there is apt to be
a strong breeze, which, if it happens to be against
the pigeons as they steer for their supper, will help
the bag by keeping them low.

I have had many an hour after tea in the summer
at supper-seeking pigeons, returning with as big a
bag as I could conveniently carry. I never had
time to put in a whole day, or I am sure that on
several occasions I could have got over a hundred
birds to my own gun, without using decoys of any
sort. It is advisable always to take some sort of
fly-proof receptacle for the dead birds, as otherwise

FIXING DECOYS ON A HIGH HEDGE.

WHEAT SHOCKS.

STRAIGHT AND HIGH OVER-HEAD.

SHOOTING FROM THE MIDDLE OF
A LOW HEDGE.

WOOD-PIGEONS AND WILD-FOWL 151

they so soon become fly-blown ; and to take also
advantage of each lull in the shooting to gather the
fallen, for the same reason. I remember a farmer
and a friend he took with him bagging a hundred
and six pigeons in two hours, but all of them were
shot while perched in an ash-tree at a range of
about twenty-five yards. There was a single ash-
tree in the hedge at each end of a large field of rye,
which was considerably forwarder than any other
corn in the district.

One often may get very fair shooting which
results in all the birds falling into standing corn.
Even if the farmer does not object to his corn being
trampled down to search for them, you will be lucky
to find half the pigeons you get down. The only
thing is to refrain from trying to score a right and
left, and go straight for each bird as it falls. Rather
than leave birds to rot, it is better to take up a
position less favourable. Sometimes, by sticking
up sheets of newspaper, you may turn birds from
their way to yours. The following are what I have
found to be ideal conditions for shooting wheat-
eating wood-pigeons — a large favourite wood, at
least a quarter of a mile from their feeding-field,
with bare rising ground intervening, over which you
can see approaching pigeons as specks against the
skyline. It is good to watch these specks, and to
wonder whether they will keep to their course and
enter the field out of shot from your stand ; or,

152 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

flying wide, will make a final tack, to bring them
swooping diagonally over your head, their purple
breasts and white-barred wings vivid in the glow of
the evening sun.

A field with woods all round is not so good,
although more pigeons may come, because they
come from all directions. Owing to the difficulty of
keeping out of sight and seeing the birds in time,
one does not get such satisfactory shooting as when
one can watch the birds converging from a favourite
direction, and can enjoy at least the chance to drop
nine out of ten on corn-free ground. If there be no
fence on that side of the feeding-field nearest the
wood from which the pigeons come, you must erect
a circular screen of hurdles or netting, well draped
with local herbage and boughs — not withered, but
fresh ; but often there will be a convenient hedge,
in the middle of which, if low enough, you can get,
or behind it, erecting a screen at your back. Should
the hedge be so high as to prevent your seeing
approaching birds, fix up a screen on the front side.
The great thing is, while giving yourself every
chance to see the pigeons in time to take them in
front, not to allow them — before or after being shot
at — to see more than is necessary of you. Pigeons
are scared far more by the sight of a man than by
the sound of a dozen shots. Generally, and par-
ticularly when they are flying against a breeze, they
have a favourite line by which they enter a field.

WOOD-PIGEONS AND WILD-FOWL 153

A tall, isolated tree near the feeding-field (pre-
ferably a silver- fir, through which you can see to
shoot) is likely to concentrate the birds, which from
about eleven in the morning till five in the afternoon
are in no hurry to eat. Having done well at them
coming to and going from such a tree or group of
trees, without special attraction, you may get a good
second innings if you fix a decoy or two high up, by
climbing the tree or using jointed rods. A day or
two's peace in between times will do much to restore
the pigeons' confidence. This sort of pigeon-
shooting does not last more than about a fortnight,
since so many fields will have become attractive.
Still, you may bag a good many pigeons, and help
to lessen the damage they do to the uncut corn,
especially where it is down or * lodged/ by walking
round the edges of the fields or up a furrow. The
first shot you fire will put up pigeons in other parts
of the field, but the chances are, if they do not
notice you, they will settle again. By squatting
down below the level of the corn after each shot,
you may get others from each field round which you
walk. Once I bagged a flying pigeon with a stone.
It was a sort of double fluke, for until I had thrown
the stone I did not see the pigeon. I had seen
some rooks pitch where some rye had lodged, within
a few yards of a low hedge. I crept quietly round,
armed with the only stone I could find— one of
those small light ones, like half a walnut-shell, that

154 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

refuse to be thrown straight. I reached my point
without disturbing the rooks, and tried to throw my
wretched stone at a venture at the spot where I
knew the rooks must be pretty thick ; but just as the
stone left my hand a pigeon rose. The stone made
a boomerang-like curve, and caught the pigeon just
where the upper part of its bill joined its head — as it
were, on the bridge of its nose. The effect lasted
just long enough to enable me to secure the pigeon.
The rooks meanwhile spluttered off, evidently as
much surprised to see me as I was to see the
pigeon.

With the wood-pigeons large numbers of turtle-
doves will resort to fields of ripening wheat, and
therefore are credited with eating the wheat. That
the doves feed on the wheat may be the rational
inference, but it is not the true explanation of their
presence. Shoot some doves that rise from such
a field, open their crops, and you will see that they
are crammed with the ripening seeds of charlock.
However many pigeons patronize a field of wheat,
if there is no charlock in it there will not be any
gathering of doves. Later on, when wheat is ripe
and lying wasted on the ground, doves may eat
a few grains ; but it is my opinion that they are
nearly as good friends to the farmer as peewits,
which know not the taste of corn. Since pigeons
are so fond of the charlock buds, it seems strange
that you seldom find a charlock seed in a pigeon's

WOOD-PIGEONS AND WILD-FOWL 155

crop while there is wheat to be had. On the other
hand, the turtle-doves, close relations of pigeons,
may be seen feeding soon after they arrive on
charlock seeds, where a rick has been threshed, in
preference to a wealth of wasted corn.

I have had good pigeon-shooting in favoured
fields of wheat after it has been cut and shocked,
also near patches of vetches and peas ; but at
harvest-time there is such a wealth of food almost
everywhere that it is seldom easy to discover
a good place to stand. I found one rather too
exciting exception. I was waiting at the corner
of a wood next to a field of 'shocked* wheat to
which pigeons were doing no good. Owing to
frequent rain, there had been an unusual delay
in getting in the harvest, and this wheat had
become soft and sweet, as corn about to grow out
does — this doubtless was why the pigeons had a
special liking for it. There was a strong north-
west wind blowing from the wood, and I had
noticed that the pigeons I disturbed from the
wheat-shocks tacked their way back to the wood,
so that they all entered it within fifty yards or
so of the corner. Here I soon made a convenient
screen by draping the angle of a wire-netting rabbit
fence with some long ash-shoots and bracken. I
got an occasional shot, but most of the pigeons
preferred to sit in the wood behind me, evidently
having fed their fill in view of a coming thunder-

156 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

storm, whose sullen clouds I could see frowning
over the hills behind me. Just as I was con-
gratulating myself on escaping the edge of this
storm, a streak of lightning danced round the wire
within a few inches of me, followed by a crack-
splutter-crack. I thought the lightning had fouled
the cartridges in my pocket, when — bang ! Such
a bang ! Fearing a second barrel, I lost no time
in putting some yards between myself and my gun
and cartridges. Meanwhile I believe every one
of the hundreds of pigeons in the wood had dashed
out and away with the wind. After a long mad
flight, they turned and streamed back to the wood.
Every pigeon came within twenty yards of my
head. I forgot my fright, recovered my gun, and
had the most furious minutes of my life. I fired —
well, no matter how many shots, but I pulled down
over thirty fat pigeons.

When the corn is ripe and hard and thirst-
creating, shooting which need not be despised
may be had by waiting within shot of a pond
in a quiet spot. You need a comfortable hut,
from which you can move out quickly and noise-
lessly so soon as a pigeon has settled at the
pond. It is all the better if the water in the
pond is considerably below the level of a sloping
bank. Should there be a tree near the pond,
most of the pigeons will settle in it before drinking ;
in which case, if two guns arrange to show them-

WOOD-PIGEONS AND WILD-FOWL 157

selves simultaneously on either side of the tree,
some tricky shooting may be enjoyed. In this
way two of my brothers bagged thirty pigeons in
a couple of hours.

When there is no corn available the diet of
wood-pigeons is as extraordinary as it is varied.
During the latter part of the winter, when root-
greens are scarce, and before the sowing of the
spring corn, pigeons will stuff themselves with the
tops of vetches, clover, and dandelions. When the
corn-feast is over, they will fill their crops with the
curious-stick-like roots of the wild anemones. Soon
after the beeches break into leaf you will notice
that they are much frequented by pigeons, which
feed gluttonously on their green tassel-like flowers.
I have seen the branches of an early-flowering beech
bowed down by a crowd of guzzling pigeons, so
thick that they jostled each other. When charlock
is about to bloom — that is, when the spring corn is
ankle-high — pigeons really do good by gorging
themselves on its buds. It is interesting to note
that pieces of charlock buds are the first food I have
found in the crops of very young wood-pigeons, in
addition to their parents' milk. I know that many
people will smile at the mention of pigeon's milk,
yet a section of a parent pigeon's crop seems not to
be different to a section of a doe rabbit that is
suckling young. Probably lack of the parental
milk explains why one cannot hand-rear pigeons

158 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

taken from the nest before, so to speak, they are
weaned. Young bullfinches also, I believe, require
a peculiar food produced by their parents only when
having access to natural food.

In the summer pigeons feed very freely on
oak-galls — those pretty, round, translucent, green,
vermilion-spotted globes about the size of a pea,
from which come the flies that cause the brown
oak spangles to be seen on the under sides of the
fallen leaves in autumn, from which in turn shall
come the larvae to continue the cycle of gall-fly life.
Much as I love bluebells, I cannot fancy their fat,
green, three-sided seed-pods as food, yet wood-
pigeons relish them. I have found in the crop of
a pigeon so strange a mixture as wild strawberries
and the seed-pods of bluebells.

The fall of a good crop of beech-mast and acorns
affords opportunity for excellent pigeon-shooting.
But seldom is a big bag to be made without a high
wind — which likely enough is accompanied by rain
— to make the pigeons fly low, and to concentrate
their direction toward the most sheltered spot.
Those who would enjoy the best of wood-pigeon
shooting must be prepared to face any weather —
the worse the weather, the better for getting shots
at pigeons. Probably the reason why pigeon
diphtheria is so prevalent in an acorn year is that
it is spread by the afflicted birds distributing the
germs through acorns, which they mouth, but

WOOD-PIGEONS AND WILD-FOWL 159

cannot swallow, owing to the state of their throats.
It does not seem unreasonable to suggest that the
disease may originate from the pigeons' feeding on
acorns above which they may have roosted. In
any case, the fact remains that the disease comes
and goes with the time of year during which acorns
may be found lying on the ground. Of one thing
I am certain — that however badly pigeons may
suffer from their diphtheria, it does not affect
pheasants, which also feed on acorns. It is reason-
able also to assume that human beings are not
liable to be infected with it by ordinary means ;
for hundreds of men have examined a diseased
pigeon's mouth with their fingers, and have handled
their handkerchief without harm directly afterwards.
And hundreds of pigeons, their throats clogged with
the cheesy-looking product of the disease, have
been handled, cooked, and eaten. Yet there is no
record of a case in which it has been suggested even
that a human being has been infected by a diphtheritic
pigeon.

Shooting pigeons as they fly in to roost is fine
sport — while it lasts. There is a brief period, just
as the light of day yields to the dusk of night, when
one may stand in an open spot and shoot at pigeons
coming to a tree on which they have set their
minds, and they will return to it again and again,
faster than one can load. One of the best innings
I ever had at roosting pigeons came about quite

i6o TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

unexpectedly one evening at the end of January.
It rained and blew horribly, and so I set out for
three clumps of trees on a hill, thinking that I
might come to terms with an old reprobate of a
cock pheasant who haunted the hill when he went
up to roost. However, while I was waiting to hear
him go up I saw some pigeons flying low against
the wind, to roost, as I supposed, in a large wood
beyond my boundary. I stood on the fringe of the
clump nearest which I hoped they might pass.
Would they come within shot ? I wondered. As
luck would have it, they tacked to gain the shelter
of that very clump. I shot two, and very soon saw
that I was in for something good. They came in
flocks of a dozen to twenty, and all tacked for my
clump. What a fine time I had for a few minutes !
Sometimes I got one, occasionally two, and once
or twice none, which I did not know how to account
for. They were quite near enough, but gave
tricky shots, and the light, apart from the blurring
effect of the wind and rain, was not good. It was
necessary to be pretty quick to get in two barrels,
for being exposed to the full view of the pigeons,
directly I put up my gun the whole lot would swirl
sideways and sweep down wind. I got twenty-two,
seven of which my dog found on the way home.
I never saw or heard anything of the old cock
pheasant, with whom, in consideration of the luck

WOOD-PIGEONS AND WILD-FOWL 161

he had brought me, I declared peace till the follow-
ing season.

Wood - pigeons, much to the credit of their
digestive powers, eat many hazel-nuts, shell and
all. I have seen thirty-eight fine nuts in the crop
of one pigeon. When acorns are scarce and nuts
numerous, pigeons give rather novel shooting as
they flap up from grubbing for nuts among the dead
leaves. And they are easier to shoot then, in the
same way that a walked-up partridge is easier than
a driven one ; of course, they are still quite easy
enough to miss. Another point in favour of this
kind of shooting is that you keep walking round the
rides of a wood, and are spared even cold feet.
Cold feet, and cold fingers — that is the worst of
most forms of winter pigeon-shooting. In winter
huge flocks of home-bred pigeons, augmented by
thousands of visitors, feast on the greens of roots,
preferring those of rape and turnips. But unless
root-fields are few and far between, or snow covers
other food, the thousands of pigeons which may rise
from a field on your arrival are not likely to return
often enough to make it worth while waiting ; they
wisely prefer to go to another field.

When pigeons have been living for some time on
an exclusive diet of root-greens their flesh has a
pronounced flavour, though, like that of venison,
its smell is worse than its taste. Greens quickly
ferment, and the sooner they are removed from a

11

162 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

pigeon's crop the better. So tightly will pigeons
pack their crops with greens that on occasion they
must afford the birds considerable protection from
shot. I have fired at a pigeon flying over me with
no other visible effect than to cause a shower of
greens from its punctured crop. To illustrate the
quantity of greens a pigeon will 'stuff' into its crop,
Gilbert White relates in * Selborne ' how a wood-
pigeon was served up, accompanied by a dish of the
most delicious turnip-greens, taken from its crop.

Many a time I have supplied my fowls with a
meal of grain emptied from the crops of pigeons I
had shot. A keeper acquaintance one autumn was
waiting for pigeons which fed on some barley
stubble ; and to pass away the intervals between
the arrivals of the birds, he counted the grains of
barley in the crop of one pigeon. There were a
thousand and thirty-three, besides a few small snail-
shells.

Foggy weather brings a famous chance to get in
touch with wood-pigeons. The shooting, of course,
is not so difficult as in clear weather — not so much
because the birds fly slower, but because you are
able to kill a pigeon coming towards you before it
sees you. In clear weather this seldom is possible.
It is that backwards, forwards, downwards, upwards,
lightning swerve of the wood-pigeon in clear weather
that beats so many men, and has beaten me a great
many more times than I care to remember. The

WOOD-PIGEONS AND WILD-FOWL 163

man who can get in his shot at a pigeon, that can
see him, quicker than the bird can swerve is not yet
born. In a thick fog, by taking reasonable care,
one may stalk within range of pigeons sitting on
trees ; and having shot one on the tree, it is fairly
easy to get another as they dash out. Two or,
better still, three guns working together during a
fog can make a good bag by approaching clumps of
pigeon-tenanted trees from opposite directions, and
by drawing belts of trees, one on each side, towards
the third at the end. I know a parson who is very
keen on shooting wood-pigeons. He is fond of
telling how one day he was out after pigeons in a
thick fog, and a pigeon actually settled on his clerical
hat, when he had stopped to light his pipe. There
is a credible witness of this part of the story ; but it
is said that his reverence was so surprised that he
put his pipe into his pocket alight, thinking it was
an olive-branch.

One winter afternoon I met an old retired
shepherd armed with a gun, with which he was
supposed to ' starve ' pigeons from some turnips.
He had a pigeon in his hand, and I asked him how
he had managed to shoot it, suggesting that it could
not have been flying. ' Oh yes, 'e wore,' he said,
proudly. Pressed for details, he added : ' I cock'd
me eye over the hedge, when up riz a dooce of a
girt gang on 'em ; I lets fly-like to fright 'em away,
and one on 'em was silly enough to blunder up agen

II 2

164 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

the shots.' On my asking how that happened, he
said : ' Gawd A'mighty knows — I doan't.' Another
old fellow, who got most of his living by shooting
pigeons, was asked if he could fetch them off the
tops of some tall beeches. * Yes, I can,' he
answered, * but I has to grind me teeth and pull
devilish 'ard.' To show what a lot of stopping
pigeons take when shot at on the ground, I give an
experience of an old keeper friend. He saw that
the ground beneath a beech-tree was * reg'lar blue '
with pigeons, so he crept along a ditch till he was as
near as he could go without being seen. He fired
one barrel into the blue on the ground without
effect, but eight pigeons fell to his second, on the
wing, and, following the direction of the survivors,
he picked up eight more.

I never have been able to get a real good family
shot at pigeons, though several times I have come
very near it. Once I came to a gap leading into
some barley stubbles and young clover, saw a single
pigeon within a dozen yards, and shot it. Just
round the corner a huge flock rose within twenty
yards. Another time, one cold day in early March,
I was going round a chain of fields of young clover,
on which there were always crowds of pigeons. (As
they kept in great flocks, and had so many fields to
go to, and there were no trees, I never got more
than odd birds.) Luckily a miniature blizzard came
on just as I had located a huge flock on an open

WOOD-PIGEONS AND WILD-FOWL 165

field. So blinding was the snow for a while that I
was able to get within range of the outside birds of
the flock by walking straight towards them in the
open. But I did not want to shoot one, or perhaps
two pigeons, on the ground ; so I worked the flock
against the wind and snow over a hedge into the
next field. I knew that they must be very thick
just beyond that hedge. I got past a wide gap
during an extra flurry of snow, and crept down the
hedge till I knew that I must be opposite where the
birds should be. But the snow, which had been so
obliging, now proved a hindrance to my high hopes ;
so thickly did it coat the hedge that I could make
out no more than two indistinct pigeon-forms, quite
near enough, but not close together ; so I had to
fire at a venture. Hundreds — I might almost say
thousands — of pigeons swept over me down-wind,
and I got one with the other barrel. Imagine my
surprise when I went round the hedge to find seven
dead pigeons. I would have given a week's wages
to have had a fair and square double, at that range,
into the ' blue,' which must have covered the white
for half an acre.

There was nothing that appealed to me so much
as the chance of a shot at wild-fowl — probably
because I seldom had it. The sight of a couple of
duck once a year was about the extent of my
chance. But never shall I forget one first of
August. I happened to remember that duck-shoot-

166 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

ing began on that day, and thought I would take
my gun with me on a million to one chance (never
having seen a duck in those parts on August i). I
was stepping over a stile not more than twenty yards
from my cottage door, when it began to drizzle.
My gun was beautifully clean. As there was no
object in getting it into a mess, I took it back. A
few minutes afterwards nine duck came along about
fifteen yards up, and just as they came over my
head seven of them were in a bunch.

CHAPTER XI

* FOXES AND THE EVERLASTING QUESTION

How some foxes were well looked after — No cause, no conflict — Give
and take — Commercial aspect of hunting and shooting — The fox-
tax— Suggestions— Foxes and partridges— Rabbits, foxes, and
birds — Which pays the labourer best, hunting or shooting ?

IT is not difficult to guess what sort of heads
keepers would demand, if favoured after the manner
of Herod's niece, when partridges and pheasants
are sitting. Enough to say that the heads would
have long pointed noses, and that the keepers
themselves would be quite willing to perform the
office of executioner. This reminds me of the
eccentric custom of a keeper who now has followed
his foxes to unearthly hunting-grounds. He pre-
ceded me years ago on an estate on which foxes
were supposed to be well looked after. And it
seemed, from all accounts, that this old keeper
looked after them right well. It came about that
he was leaving. Shortly before he was to leave
he happened to be passing the time of day with a
shepherd. The shepherd remarked casually that
he wondered what there was in a hollow oak in the

167

168 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

middle of the field, since 'it doocedly talked now
an' t'an ' when he passed on the windward side.

* Foxes' heads, I shouldn't wonder,' replied the
keeper, with cold-blooded promptness and a grin.
The shepherd thought he was joking, till he climbed
up and discovered proof of the keeper's cryptic hint
— to the tune of about two dozen foxes' heads. The
keeper explained that whenever he happened on a
dead fox he cut off its head, 'just in case.'

I have known many employers who never went
into mourning if they thought there was one fox
fewer, and still more keepers who could bear with
dry eyes the news of a fox's passing hence. The
keeper who exclaims, when a fox has turned up its
brush, ' That's a bad job,' uses those words for the
sake of politeness, in the same way that people say,

* I am sorry you must be going.' Were all keepers
to destroy all the foxes they could there would
be no foxes, which is equally as true as that some
districts would be over-run with foxes if some
keepers did not suppress some foxes. I do not
believe at all in trying to disguise the facts about
foxes — everlasting bones of strife between all sorts
of people who otherwise might live in peace and
quietness. But, lest I give a wrong impression,
I will state at once that never did I kill a fox in all
my game-keeping days. I do not say that I did
not often feel like obliterating every fox within a
hundred miles. But I did not do it, not altogether

FOXES AND THE EVERLASTING QUESTION 169

because my orders were to preserve foxes, but
partly out of sporting sympathy.

To return to the question of foxes, I admit that a
few shooting-men — and a few keepers — may be
inclined to exaggerate the damage foxes have
inflicted on their game. But the majority of hunting
folk will persist in minimizing the tribute levied by
foxes on game, and so tend to bring about the very
result they wish to avoid. What surprises me is
not so much that hunting-people should fail to
show sympathy toward shooting-men, but that they
should arrogate themselves to dictate to them. To
me this seems like pure folly, seeing that the most
vital interest of hunting is entirely in the hands of
those who hold shooting-rights. All shooting-men
and their keepers are ever ready to admit that
hunting-people ought to know their own business
best, as no doubt they do, so far as the interests
of hunting alone are concerned, irrespective of all
other interests. The only way to further the
interests of hunting is through the interests of
shooting. Instead of which, many hunting-people
(who are apt to forget that they are permitted to
pursue their sport solely by the courtesy of holders
of shooting-rights) defeat their own ends by their
selfishness and dictatorial bearing toward those
whom rather they should approach as suppliants.
I think a very small percentage of shooting-men
are unreasonably selfish, yet obviously their attitude

170 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

must have heen brought about by the conflict of
foxes and hunting with game and shooting. If
there were no cause, there would be no conflict.

It seems to me an injustice -that shooting-men
should be called selfish, even if they absolutely bar
foxes or hunting on their ground. For every man
who holds shooting-rights has to pay heavily for
them, directly or indirectly ; that is to say, either he
pays rent for the privilege of ' sporting ' over every
yard of his shoot, or if the land is his own, forgoes
the income he might enjoy by letting it. Therefore,
whatever avoidable circumstance detracts from his
returns is equivalent to a direct tax on his pocket.
It must be admitted that if foxes and hunting were
of no detriment to shooting-interests, which many
hunting-men are so foolish as to declare, there
never would be the least objection to foxes and
hunting. To the credit of the sporting fellowship
of shooting-men, it must be said that they show a
long-suffering spirit of give in contrast to the ever-
lasting take of hunting-men. The more you give
the majority of hunting-men, the more they want,
and the more they will take.

It has been suggested that hunting makes ample
return to shooting for all it takes by keeping down
foxes. Surely this is an admission that foxes are
exceedingly harmful to shooting-interests. Assuming
that hunting kept foxes within reasonable limits all
over the country — which it does not — there are

FOXES AND THE EVERLASTING QUESTION 171

infinitely quicker and more reliable means of gaining
the same end; and free, too, from the disturbance
of game caused by the destruction of foxes by
hunting.

Hunting is a sport, and sport is a luxury. Hunt-
ing is a luxury productive, at the end of a day's
sport, at the best of times, of no greater commercial
asset than two or three dead foxes, which, if rescued
before they are too much disfigured by hounds, may
fetch the fancy price of half a sovereign each, for
the sake of their skins — their flesh being worthless,
even for sausages. Shooting is a sport and a
luxury, but at the end of a day's shooting there is
generally several pounds' worth of good food of
intrinsic value, which either can be given away or
turned into hard cash. The amount of valuable,
easily marketable food obtained during a day's shoot-
ing is proportionate, first, to the money invested in
production, and, secondly, to the skill of those who
shoot and of their keepers. The total value of
game produced, roughly speaking, should approach,
if not equal, the rent of a shoot. Working expenses,
keepers' and beaters' wages, and so forth, also will
be about equal to the rent. So, on shooting, a return
may be looked for equivalent to half the outlay —
ten shillings in the pound. On the other hand, it
has been computed that each fox killed by hounds
involves an expenditure of a hundred pounds. So,
valuing all dead foxes at half a sovereign each, that

172 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

is a penny and a fifth in the pound. Even the
proverbial half-sovereign cost of a live pheasant,
plus a penny for a cartridge wherewith to kill it,
shows, at two shillings for the dead bird, nearly
four shillings in the pound !

The man who shoots on an average one day a
week probably has a shoot of his own, or a share in
one. For this he must pay heavily out of his own
pocket, in addition to the cost of guns, cartridges,
tips, and so forth. The man who hunts one day a
week may do so at a yearly expenditure of five or
ten pounds by way of contribution towards the up-
keep of the pack. For hunting-rights he pays not
a farthing. Yet the shooting-man, besides paying
heavily for his shooting-rights, must not only put up
with a tribute on his returns levied by foxes and
hunting, but subscribe to the furtherance of his own
taxation, or be despised of hunting-men as selfish,
and all the rest of it. Half the sport of a shooting-
man may be blotted out by the depredations of
foxes. What sympathy does he get from the hunt ?
— rather are insinuations scattered abroad that his
complaint is moonshine. Possibly someone writes
to a paper to say that on such a day he helped to
shoot a thousand pheasants in one wood in which,
during the proceedings, half a dozen foxes were
seen — perhaps with the idea of convincing the
gullible that the more foxes in a wood, the more
pheasants.

FOXES AND THE EVERLASTING QUESTION 173

On many a shoot there would be quite a good
number of wild-bred pheasants if it were not for
foxes. As it is, the holders of shoots must go to
the expense of rearing pheasants (the net cost of
which is considerably increased by the presence of
foxes), or go without, unless they care to run the
risk of being made a kind of sporting scapegoat by
hunting-people who have no understanding of the
word ' selfishness.' There is a story of a keeper who
had been treated with harshness by a hunt till he
became tired of it. The question of foxes was left
to his discretion. It came to pass that a meet was
appointed to draw this keeper's coverts, when the
following conversation took place between him and
the master. M. : ' Any foxes about ?' K. : ' Plenty.'
M. : ' Where are they ?' K. : ' Gone to ground.'
The keeper spoke the truth in grim earnest.

There is an increasing number of keepers whose
employers have no prejudiced objection to foxes
and hunting, provided their game and shooting do
not suffer obviously. The keepers are told that
game is the attraction ; on the question of foxes
there is discreet silence. It is to the everlasting
credit of keepers without end that, prompted by the
sympathy of true sportsmanship, they try to do what
often might work smoothly, if hunting-people would
forsake dictatorial ways and accept suggestions. A
keeper is bound to serve only one master, but in the
cause of sport often is willing to take the risk of

174 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

trying to serve two. Hunt committees might do
worse than establish centres for the production of
eggs and the rearing of pheasants. From these
they might in some measure make amends for losses
by foxes, conditionally upon coverts being reasonably
open to hounds, and foxes being found in them.
This would be a good way of finding employment
for keepers out of place, besides being a sympathetic
compliment to the whole brotherhood of keepers.

There is no insuperable difficulty in the way of
making allowance for losses among pheasants, or in
compensating for them in kind. The question is,
Who is to bear the cost of this tribute to foxes ?
Since it is absurdly unjust that men who already
pay heavily for their shooting should be so taxed,
seeing that they are growing every year more
unwilling to bear it, and that it is solely for the
benefit of hunting-people that the tax exists at all,
it is only reasonable that hunting-people should
bear it. The more difficult problem is — foxes and
partridges. What with rooks, rats, and other
vermin, partridges have to contend with quite
enough persecution without any attention on the
part of foxes. I do not think partridges ever will
be reared with the same facility as pheasants ; at
any rate, I devoutly hope they will not. There is
no practicable way in which losses among partridges
could be made good by a sympathetic hunt. Of
course, Hungarian birds might be distributed in the

FOXES AND THE EVERLASTING QUESTION 175

spring to increase breeding stocks ; but since this
plan would encourage a trade in spurious Hungarians,
which it is much more desirable to check than to
encourage, I do not think it would find much favour.
The prospect of Anglo-Hungarian partridges being
eaten by Anglo- Hungarian foxes never would com-
mend itself to keepers. I wonder how many of the
foreign foxes sold in England are foreign-bred ? or,
to put it another way, what becomes of numbers of
live English-bred foxes ? Are they exported as a
complimentary change of blood, or are they — well —
transmogrified ?

It is glibly suggested that the keeper should
dress all his partridge-nests with some evil-smelling
fluid, and so protect them. Is not this in itself
evidence of need of protection ? But what keeper,
try how he may, can find all, or even half, the
partridge-nests on his beat ? It is true that if he
has the time, he can find a good many of those in
hedges and so on, and, therefore, most liable to ruin
by foxes. But, assuming that as many nests as
possible are found and scent-protected, at consider-
able extra labour and risk of drawing to them
destructive attention, which otherwise they probably
would escape, what good is it all ? At best, the
hatched broods for weeks must run a great risk
from which nothing can protect them. A keeper
may blow a horn all night to scare foxes from
foraging on his beat. Well, assuming that no fox

176 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

dared dine within sound of a horn, and all keepers
blew horns all night, even as men cannot live on
air alone, so cannot foxes live on the blast of a horn,
and so might just as well not exist. Perhaps those
who suggest the horn-blowing cure would volunteer
to help keepers to perform an all-night blast — every
night, say, during June and July ; of course, in
addition to the usual day's work. Partridge-shooting,
if only because it is cheap, is bound to remain the
most popular form of shooting ; and since less can
be done to prevent, or to make good, the damage
by foxes to partridges than to other game, foxes
must give way to partridges. The Ground Game
Act really sounded the death-knell of foxes by doing
away with rabbits — their more or less ungrudged
bread-and-butter ; and the present tendency to cut
up land into smaller and smaller holdings has kept
it tolling. The prospects of foxes grow blacker
apace. With regrettable frequency one hears that
masters of hounds are finding their countries un-
tenable owing to the scarcity of foxes and closed
coverts.

Hares and rabbits now are scarce enough in
many districts, in which the time is not far distant
when there will be ten men, ten dogs, and ten guns
against each hare and rabbit, where before there
was only one trio of destruction. The decrease of
hares and rabbits not only makes scarcer the more
natural and least-grudged food of foxes, but increases

FOXES AND THE EVERLASTING QUESTION 177

the toll they take of partridges and pheasants — not
altogether of necessity, but of habit. There can be
nothing more foolish on the part of hunting owners
of sporting rights than to keep down ground game,
rabbits especially, to an unnecessarily low extent.
They demand foxes, plenty of winged game, but —
no rabbits. What happens ? Just at the time
when the vixens with weaned cubs would grate-
fully accept young rabbits, such delicacies are not
to be had for love or money. But there are plenty
of sitting pheasants, and a little later partridges as
well. I do not say a vixen would not take the
birds in any case, but being able to obtain rabbits
with reasonable ease, she would not make a speciality
of hunting for birds. The mischief does not end
with the vixen's attention to the birds. Her cubs
are brought up to look upon pheasants and partridges
as a sort of staff of life, much as children are taught
to regard bread-and-butter. Naturally the cubs
ever afterwards say to themselves when they see
or smell a bird : ' There is a meal : come, let us
catch it !'

In this way are foxes educated to live on food
that is grudged them. The tendency of the times
is to force them to do so more and more. Foxes
or game must give way. A man who gave me to
understand that he knew the last thing about foxes
and their habits told me in all seriousness that he
could not understand what foxes now lived on.

12

178 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

' There are no rabbits/ he said : ' what do they
live on?' 'Don't you know,' I replied, 'that foxes
are vegetarians ?'

Some people who read this chapter may think
that I am a bit hard on foxes and hunting, and
that I am a regular glutton for shooting. I like
shooting, having done a good deal ; and I like
hunting less, not having done any except on foot.
So I scarcely can be expected to rave about the
joys of hunting or the scent of foxes. I have
listened to much hound music, and have heard
hounds called ' Melody ' — which may explain why
often a huntsman or a whip apparently has little
ear for music. Has anyone ever heard a sane
and sober gamekeeper produce such sounds as
pour from the raucous throats of hunt servants ?
It is well that foxes are not killed by uncouth
sounds.

I do not wish to give the impression that game
is safe from the depredations of foxes except in
the breeding season, nor that the sitting hens alone
suffer ; for I have found plenty of cock pheasants
among the victims at an earth, and it is unlikely,
to say the least of it, that they had been snatched
from a nest. It is a mistake to suppose that all
pheasants go regularly to roost after they are six
or seven weeks old ; a considerable proportion
sleep on the ground, even in winter. I have
known dozens of pheasants to jug in roots all

CUBS' INTERRUPTED FEAST.

PLAYGROUND OF CUBS.

FOXES AND THE EVERLASTING QUESTION 179

through the winter, and also in woods, within a
few yards of ideal roosting-trees. Many mornings
are misty for some while after pheasants have come
down from roost, and mists cover many misdeeds of
foxes. Another fallacy which seems to be popular
is that sitting game-birds are safe from foxes till
their eggs are on the point of hatching, because,
it is supposed, the birds do not give off scent till
then. It is obvious that the risk through scent
of a bird sitting quietly on her eggs is not so
great as when she is covering a nestful of chipped
or hatching eggs, but it is nonsense to say she
gives out no scent in the early days of sitting. I
have had scores of birds snapped up during the
very first night on their eggs. A decent dog will
detect a sitting bird by her scent if he has the wind.
It is child's play to a fox to detect by scent what
is not easy to a dog, and a fox needs no hint
always to take the wind. A fortune awaits anyone
who will introduce a race of foxes with more scent,
but no sense of smell.

In the present state of things there is only one
way to save hunting from becoming, in the near
future, in some parts of the country, a sport of the
past — by restraining all foxes during the few months
in which winged game chiefly breeds. If this plan
is carried out with a loyal understanding and co-
operation between hunt managements and holders
of shooting-rights, it should prove a happy com-

12 — 2

i8o TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

promise. At any rate, it is a case of choice between
a brief luxurious imprisonment with guaranteed
protection, and summary execution.

I have used plain words about foxes, but there is
continually cropping up ample evidence to prove
that they are not to be allowed much longer to go
their own sweet way. Yet I am certain that keepers
collectively would be among the first to deplore
the prospect of a cessation of hunting — not because
of the occasional pieces of gold which they may
receive from hunt funds, but because of their
genuine love for the blood-tingling sport. There
is a less worthy but weightier reason why the
extinction of foxes would be deplored by keepers—
the same reason, I believe, that is used by those
who extol the benefits conferred on game interests,
by hunting, in the same breath that they say foxes
do practically no harm to game : that if it were not
for the existence of foxes only half the present
number of keepers would be required to preserve
game. This is true, but it cuts two ways ; for
might not many more people find it so much easier
and more profitable to preserve game without the
assistance of foxes that they would do so to twice
the present extent ?

One has heard often enough of the seven and a
half millions said to be circulated each year by
hunting. Of course, any institution which circulates
money must be more or less of benefit to the

FOXES AND THE EVERLASTING QUESTION 181

community. I have not at hand any computation
of the sum circulated by shooting, but it must far
exceed whatever is the actual hunting figure. How
does the money expended locally per square mile of
a hunt's ' country ' compare with that disbursed by
shooting ? If there were no hunting, I do not think
it would make much difference to the labouring
classes. When a labourer is out of work, he may
get from hunting a limited amount of free sport —
on an empty stomach. If he is very lucky indeed,
he may ' pick up a bob ' by holding a horse ; but
there are always dozens of hands ready to hold one
rein. If it were not for shooting, how would
thousands of families of the labouring class get
through the winter ? Ask any beater which
pays him better, hunting or shooting, and he will
gape at you in astonishment, and whenever he
recovers the power of speech will ask what you
' me-ans.'

CHAPTER XII

TYPES OF SHOOTERS

The interfering shooter— The 'sketchy' shooter — The late guest— The
perfumed shooter — The ( winger ' — The man in weird raiment —
Some incidents — The fidgety shooter.

MY bag of shooters is a mixed one. The shooter
who is most objectionable to the keeper is the man
who wants to run everything himself, and, con-
sequently, never is happy unless he is interfering.
Often enough he is a pretty good shot, thinks he
knows as much about woodcraft as he would lead one
to believe, and is always selfish. I had experience
of such a man during the early days of my career,
and I have never forgotten him. We were about
to walk a large piece of sainfoin in which we knew
there were a good many partridges. I proposed to
take it in two beats, coming back after the first on
the same ground. A guest interposed his dictatorial
spoke to the effect that my plan was absurd, and
meant a deal of extra walking and unnecessary waste
of time. He never had been on the ground before.
However, after being compelled to waste time
listening to his harangue, I suggested that possibly

182

TYPES OF SHOOTERS 183

he was unaware that the hedge from which I
proposed to start each beat was the boundary.
More than once have I seen this shooter leave the
line and follow birds on his own account ; and
men who had been acting as beaters where he was
invited to shoot told me that he would take upon
himself to countermand orders they had received.
I took very good care that his suggestions were
disregarded where I was in command.

Then there is the man who never will stay where
he is placed. True, there are occasions when by
shifting his stand a man may get more shooting, or
prevent game from breaking away ; but you may
be sure a keeper places guns to the best of his
ability, and each stand is carefully considered with
regard to its effect on other stands and other beats.
A host often points out the stands to guns, but
whether the keeper or the host has selected the
stands, the keeper manoeuvres the beaters according
to a pre-arranged placing of the guns. We were
partridge-driving, and at a particular drive I knew
there would be a good many hares, which were
certain to make for a favourite gap. Leaving the
gun whose turn it was to be outside within a dozen
yards of this gap, after giving him a special hint
that he would get a few hares, I hurried off to catch
up the beaters. We did the drive, and though
seventeen hares passed through the gap, I heard
only a few shots. I reached the guns, to be

184 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

informed by the one I had specially placed that he
might ... if only he had not taken it into his head
to move up.

Few hosts are to be relied on to place guns to
the best advantage without the aid of ticketed
sticks, even for beats which they know quite well.
Now and again one meets an amateur who is a
perfect genius at gun-placing, and probably he
understands the organizing and carrying out of
drives and beats at least as well as his keeper, off
whose shoulders he takes a load of worry. The
type of shooting host who is a thorn in the side of
his keeper is the ' sketchy ' man, with a smattering
of practical knowledge, which he is unable to apply,
even on ground over which he has shot scores of
times — perhaps all his life. He gives one the
impression that he is a stranger to gaps, trees, dells,
hollows, openings, fences, rides, and tracks, which
for years and years he has seen without observing.
Two minutes after the beating of a wood in four or
five simple beats has been explained to him he has
a very hazy notion of those beats or their sequence.
Whether or not he tries to make his own mistakes
appear to be bungling on the keeper's part, their
effect is the same. He hates that the despairing
keeper should offer personally to show him which is
the second ride on the right-hand side of the one
they are in. He curses the keeper to his guests for
keeping them waiting, when it is his own fault,

TYPES OF SHOOTERS 185

having kept the keeper waiting, instead of allowing
him to go straight on with the beaters to the next
beat or drive. He refuses to allow the keeper to show
the guns to their places, forgets where to put them
himself, makes a hopeless hash of a good beat, and
than calmly tells the keeper that he understood him
to say so-and-so.

The keeper cannot help feeling a bit of a fool on
discovering, when too late, that the guns have been
wrongly placed. Talking very often accounts for
guns being placed so that they cannot cover a beat
to the best advantage. The host and a guest
begin to discuss some subject, and perhaps each
forgets the business in hand, or the one may not
like to cut the other short. Suddenly it is discovered
that someone ought to have stopped a hundred
yards farther back, or half the guns find themselves
in a cluster at the end of the beat. Then it is a case
of, ' Oh, very well ; it does not matter now. Stay
where you are/ No wonder partridges £ome wide
or pheasants run between the guns.

Some guns apparently are born late. But if it is
rude to be late for a dinner-party, surely it is rude
to be late for a shoot. At a dinner the late guest is
the chief sufferer, because he must eat warmed-up
food or go without. At a shoot the host and his
punctual guests, the keeper, the bag, and the success
of the day, all must suffer. A wait of half an hour
at the start means that the proceedings throughout

186 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

the day are about a beat and a half late. One never
can undo the result of a late start. You may hurry
things generally, and throw into one two beats that
are much better taken separately. The result is
that beaters must scamper over the ground, too
wide apart to beat it properly, had they the time ;
stops are told where to go instead of being shown,
and of course go wrong. And, finally, after all the
rush and scramble, the best beat of the day has to
be left out owing to darkness. The second ' big day '
covert shoot I managed was ruined, from my point
of view, by the guns turning up three-quarters of an
hour late. I had the best lot of pheasants that had
been in the wood for years ; and, naturally, I was
very keen that the guns should see them, if they
could not kill them. The bag was a hundred and
fifty odd pheasants. The guns were wonderfully
pleased with the day, but none of them knew till I
told them that the loss of time in the morning had
lost us the best beat, in which there must have been
quite another hundred and fifty pheasants. All the
same, the guns robbed me of the pleasure of proving
it. I do not believe in waiting for a gun. If I
asked a man to shoot, and he were late twice, I
should want him very badly before I asked him
again.

The gun who cries out for the beater who has his
cartridges just when that beater is as far away as
possible is a nuisance, and his name is worthy of a

TYPES OF SHOOTERS 187

place on the list of the Lord High Executioner.
Surely if there is a time when he must be aware
that he wants more cartridges, that time is at the
finish of a beat, when the beaters are close at hand.
Men who shoot with guns of any but the con-
ventional twelve-bore seldom run out of cartridges.
Possibly the fact that they are not likely to be able
to borrow has as much as anything to do with their
ample provision. Be that as it may, I knew a gun
who gave it out as part of his ethics that he did not
believe in taking more than forty cartridges to any
shoot. Though he never tried to thrust his rule
down the throats of other people, he had no objection
to taking a dip from another man's bag when his
forty rounds had been consumed. The majority of
people who borrow cartridges find it easier to
borrow than to repay.

It is not given to every man to be able to pay the
greedy gun in his own coin. I do not say that good
shots are more likely to be greedy than bad ones,
but when a good shot is greedy, his greediness is
specially annoying. The good shot has a very
practical cure for greediness on the part of an
inferior shooter, which very soon cures him. I
remember a little incident connected with a greedy
and bad shot that occurred before I was out of my
teens. It was a matter of a cock pheasant — and we
thought something of a cock pheasant in those days.
The bird was coming nicely for me, toward my left

i88 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

front ; its height was improving rapidly. I was
just contemplating the addition of another laurel-
leaf to the crown of youthful success, when from the
corner of my eye I saw the man on my right put up
his gun. I hesitated. He fired and killed the cock
— a bird which by no stretch of imagination could
have been called anyone's but mine. I said nothing.
If I had said a tenth of what I felt, I should have
said a lot. Just as we were about to sit down to
lunch, my bird-grabber hinted at a pompous, con-
descending regret that he had shot the pheasant — I
suppose really with the intent to draw public attention
to his own prowess. In as humble a tone as I could
manage, I said : ' Don't mention it. Seeing that you
were about to shoot, I thought it as well to wait in
reserve.'

The perfumed shooter is not unknown to the
keeper. Once so heavily was a shooter scented that
I was driven to make excuse for alleged deficiency
of my retriever's nose, confiding to another sports
man that so long as the perfume-wafter was in the
wind my dog had no chance. The shooter who
is everlastingly winging birds, either because he is
a bad shot or a good one much given to firing
long shots, is a perfect pest when walking up
partridges. When the host happens to be a
shooter of this description, the keeper and his
dog have a particularly bad time. However well
birds have been marked, they are not to be

TYPES OF SHOOTERS 189

found, so the dog is called for. When the
dog finds that a bird has run, as is obvious to
everyone but the shooter, and goes a few yards
from the fall, it must be ordered back. By the
time that the shooter has been convinced that
his bird is not dead, it has gained such a start that
to let the dog follow the trail would be to risk
disturbing birds ahead. Thus many unfortunate
partridges are lost.

I wonder how many birds I have been assured
were hit so hard that they could not have gone
more than a few yards after topping a hedge ?
A bird in the keeper's pocket is worth a good
many that have topped a hedge. As the exaggera-
tion of shooters is to birds that must have fallen
over hedges, so is the juggling of keepers with
birds already in their pockets.

A shooter who was only an hour late came to
me in great trouble, the barrels of his gun in one
hand and the stock in the other. He told me he
had been wrestling with his gun (which, by the
way, had been borrowed for the occasion) since
an early breakfast, in vain. It was a wonder,
judging by the marks on the weapon, that it
stood the force which had been brought to bear
upon it. I was thankful it was not mine. The
shooter merely had omitted to open the action.
Another man complained that the top lever of his
gun (which, I feel I ought to mention, had an

igo TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

imposing pistol grip) did not work properly. And
small wonder, for the lever was glued to its seat
by a layer of rust. After considerable excavations
with a knife, we got the lever to work ; and we
explained that the weapon was not an ordinary
gun, but a fowling-piece, whereat the shooter
seemed mightily pleased.

Some shooters will go to big expense in guns
and cartridges, yet do not see their way to have
a serviceable cartridge-bag. A lord turned up at
a shoot, and brought with him in a brougham
(by the way, I am certain I could not shoot
after arriving in a brougham) a high-grade gun
and expensive cartridges ; but so dilapidated was
his cartridge-bag that before it could be used it
had to be tied up, like a rat-gnawed sack, with
bits of string begged from the beaters. Another
well-to-do shooter had a cartridge-bag that re-
sembled one of the cheaper makes of satchel
carried by children to school. Whether he feared
he might lose cartridges or bag, or both, I cannot
say, but he persisted in carrying his bag all day.
It was at a covert shoot on a damp day, and
when this shooter reached his stand he would
place his bag tenderly on the sodden ground.
Never shall I forget the struggle with sticky
cartridges during the greater part of the best
rise of pheasants.

Beware of the man in weird raiment ; avoid him,

TYPES OF SHOOTERS igi

flee from him at any cost, and even shoot him
rather than allow him to shoot you. And it is
well to keep an eye on a man who turns up
wearing gaiters of a pattern popular with gardeners
— black gaiters, with an intense natural shininess
and knee-cap extension. You may feel comfort-
able next to the man who does not shoot to dress,
but dresses to shoot; he is as unlikely to shoot
you as to fail in his duty toward the bag. Only
once do I remember to have been grossly deceived
by the outward appearance of a shooter — and it was
a double-barrelled take-in. The expression of the
man's face alone seemed to tell one that he could
not shoot. His get-up, though not alarming, was
hopelessly impossible. He reminded me of the
gaitered gentleman one sees doing a round with
a grocer's cart. But, by Jove ! that man could
shoot. When not able to see him I could tell
where he was by the way the pheasants collapsed.
Two birds coming at the same time — bang, bang !
and he had them right and left time after time.
That was not all : his birds seemed to close their
wings, curve their necks toward their crop, turn
breast upwards, and come down bump — all in the
twinkling of an eye. Occasionally there was an
extra special bird that would turn along the front
of the guns ; there would be a string of shots, till
my deceiver's turn came. I still think that shooter
must have lost his kit-bag.

ig2 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

I found myself standing in a ride next to a
shooter who never fired a shot. Why, I could not
understand, for rabbits frequently were nipping
across the ride on each side of him. Thinking
he might be feeling ill, I ventured to inquire why
he did not shoot. 'Well/ he said, 'it isn't safe
to shoot at 'em in the ride, and when they are
in the stuff I can't see 'em. How can I shoot a
thing I can't see ?' I suggested that occasionally
he might get a glimpse of a rabbit's tail. He
thought he might. ' Then,' I said, 4 if you can
see a rabbit's tail, surely its head cannot be much
more than sixteen inches farther on.' The man
who waits for a full view of rabbits is not much
help to the bag.

I confess that I have shot at a sitting rabbit, and
have missed it, but I never equalled the following
feat : A little rabbit born out of the usual season
appeared at a distance of not more than twenty-five
yards in a clearing where a tree had been felled.
Bang, bang ! The rabbit stopped and sat up. The
second gun was emptied. The rabbit took a couple
of hops, and sat on the stump of the tree. Yet a
fifth and sixth cartridge were emptied. The rabbit
never budged, but began grooming its face with its
two front-paws, and, I suspect, pressed its tongue
against the interior of its cheek. The loader handed
a gun with unperturbed solemnity, but the shooter
refused to persevere, protesting that already he had

TYPES OF SHOOTERS 193

expended on that rabbit the equivalent of its full
market value.

To show how far some shooters can jump to a
conclusion, here are two incidents with which as a
keeper I had to contend. It was not a big day ;
and I, having a gun, was standing in a side-ride,
while four shooters were forward. I was watching
an old cock on the ground, apparently considering
his next move, for his case seemed somewhat evil.
Bang ! and the stuff shivered a couple of yards above
the pheasant, and, it seemed to me, at a level about
right for the beaters, who were none too far back ;
however, the shot helped the pheasant to make up
his mind, and he rose with a great splutter, flew
forward, and was neatly stopped by the gun on the
left of the man who had fired — well, a little pre-
viously. When the beat was done I was informed
that there were two pheasants to pick up, one in
front and one behind the ride in which the guns
stood. The bird I knew so much about was the
only one in the beat, fell behind, and I picked him
up ; but the anticipating shooter insisted that he had
another in front. I suggested that the bird I had
picked up was his bird, which might have got up
again. ' Oh dear no/ he explained ; ' I saw him
on the ground (which I believed), and directly he
opened his wings and flew I had a cut at him and
downed him.' I had to waste time pretending to
look for that bird, and finally regretted to say that

13

194 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

he must have run. On another occasion a little
covert was being driven over a turnpike-road. Just
at the end of the beat a cock pheasant fell in the
middle of the road, but had vanished by the time
the beaters appeared. The shooter of this pheasant
was very much annoyed when the beaters declared
they could not see it, and said he knew it was dead
because he had seen it run into the ditch.

The etiquette of shooting does not permit a guest
to choose his own stand, certainly not to intrude
upon the stands of his fellow-guests. I have known
plenty of guests who have longed to shift their
stand, but only one who actually did so, and he
was a man who had been living in the colonies for
many years. I was standing next to him ; neither
of us had had a shot that beat, while the forward
guns were having a lively time. At last he could
endure it no longer, shouted to me, ' Let's trek to
where the sport hums,' and off he went.

The shooter who acts the part of Fidgety Phil
does not realize the extent to which he lessens his
chance of getting shots. Even if you move scarcely
enough to breathe, there is not much chance of
a shot at a pheasant which is in sight on the ground,
and none at all if you shuffle about. There is
nothing to be gained by fidgeting — that is to say,
by increasing the chance that game will see you and
turn back in good time. How many partridges
have received a timely hint to break back from a

TYPES OF SHOOTERS 195

fidgety, impatient shooter, who will trot to a gap in
a good hedge to see what the beaters are doing ?
Particularly is it fatal to invite attention to your
presence when birds, instead of coming over a
hedge, alight just on the other side. If they 'find
of the guns, it is ten to one they will not face them
when re-flushed by the beaters.

I recall a rather ludicrous but annoying incident
at a hare drive. The fence we were lining was
none too dense. Just as a whole troop of hares
were about to come through opposite the centre
gun, he whipped out a huge white handkerchief,
unfolded it, shook it well out, and blew a loud blast
on his nose. Another man and myself were on
each side of him, and had been watching the
approaching hares. We whistled softly, and waved
our hands deprecatingly. The shooter did not
understand, yelled out to know what was the matter,
and blew another blast on his nose.

There is a type of shooter who gets wrinkles
from the keeper, and trots them out to the other
guns as his own. Though he may forget the
keeper, the keeper does not forget him.

13—2

CHAPTER XIII

MY BROTHER KEEPERS

Varieties of keeper — The backbiting keeper — * Previous to a cold ' —
The privileged keeper — The diplomatic keeper — Stock phrases
— Keepers as sportsmen — The jealousy of keepers — The extrava-
gant keeper — The exaggerating keeper — The ' some ' birds
keeper.

I BEGIN with the man who has followed the occupa-
tion of game-keeping all his life — in some cases
even} to the exclusion of learning to read and write.
It has always rather amused me to watch the
manner in which such men seize every chance to
emphasize the fact that their brothers who have not
actually spent every moment of their lives as game-
keepers are not as they. Take the case of a man
who, as a boy, did a little boot-cleaning. When in
after years he is cursed with enteritis on the rearing-
field, while a lifelong keeper is lucky enough to
have no such calamity, the latter will glory in
running down the former, on every possible occasion,
all because he has added the art of game-keeping to
the accomplishment of boot-cleaning. * Why, yer
can't expect no otherwise. What do 'e know about
rearing ? Mixin' blackin's more in 'is line than

196

MY BROTHER KEEPERS 197

mixin' birds' grub. No wonder they dies ! 'E'll lose
the lot afore 'e's done.' This is the sort of running
fire that goes on, especially behind the former boot-
cleaner's back.

Such talk to the gallery may sound very fine.
The colour of the speaker's words may afford
temporary amusement to those who laugh. But the
keeper who uses every chance to belittle the ability
of others might do well to reflect that he is making
for himself the impossible standard of perpetual
success. Into the pit where he is always trying to
push others he will finally fall, and there he will
stay. When a man is constantly running down
others in his profession, there is every possibility of
holes in his own jacket. All his attempts to slander
really cause those who are fair judges to appreciate
more fully the good points of the slandered. After
growing tired of hearing a very indifferent lifelong
keeper run down another who had started to earn
his living as a groom, I remember taking a step
which quenched the slandering habit for ever after-
wards. It was in the summer of 1907, and in the
district in question I do not think there was one
day during the breeding season when the weather
was even decent for game, young or old — nothing
but mist, rain, and cold day and night. The one-
time groom-keeper took about four hundred birds
on to the field, and brought off a very creditable
proportion. When the earlier ones were five weeks

198 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

old, I had a look at all his birds. I told him he was
lucky to have lost so few, and that those he had
looked wonderfully well. Shortly afterwards I met
the infallible lifelong keeper. He began to slander
as usual, going on to revel in, and to multiply, the
former groom's losses ; so I gently reminded him
that 1897, his first year in the district, was a
capital year for pheasants, but that the following
season, when he ought to have had over two thousand
birds, he came off the field with a doubtful six
hundred. And this was the end of his backbiting.
Another trait in the slandering type of keeper's
character is shown (to those behind the scenes)
by the furious energy in all he does within sight
of the c gents.' Out of their sight and hearing
he does little but curse them up and down each
beat.

Though there are scores of excellent keepers who
have never followed any other calling, it does not
follow that they are superior to men who took to
the work comparatively late in life. It is the most
natural thing in the world that a boy, the son of a
keeper, should follow in his father's footsteps, but
he is quite likely to possess no special qualifications
for the calling. He may become a keeper only
because his father was a keeper. Personally, I
have come to the conclusion that gamekeepers
who started to earn their living in other ways
generally make the best keepers, because the special

MY BROTHER KEEPERS 199

trend of their abilities had time to mature, and to
assert itself. They are broader-minded, and not so
liable to pigheadedness as lifelong keepers. I call
to mind three men who, by becoming keepers after
years in other callings, had made a great success of
their life's main work. One was a bricklayer,
another a groom, the third a schoolmaster ; each of
them I have known for years as eminently successful
keepers. And I could tell of numberless others
whose careers have proved the wisdom of stepping
from distasteful employment to the field of game-
keeping, with all its romantic fascination. Here
their natural gifts, their love of nature and of sport,
have found free play, instead of lying dormant and
smouldering, and maybe sternly repressed.

Though in my heart I had always been a keeper,
it was with a feeling of the most intense pride that
I set out on a round, clad for the very first time in
regulation keeper dress. I cannot say how often
my hands explored the deep recesses of those clean
new hare-pockets. I was happier than an empire's
ruler going forth for the first time in robes of State ;
no jewelled sceptre could compare with my hazel
stick. With keepers and others who knew me by
name before I took ' velveteen ' I had several rather
funny experiences. One man spent about twenty
minutes plying me with questions about my former
self. I imagine I did a good deal to curb his future
curiosity by telling him that though I did not claim

200 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

to be the only Jones, I was the Jones in whom he
was so very much interested.

Never shall I forget the keeper into whose charge
I was given when beginning real shooting. He
was a man who would now be looked upon as
eminently suitable for some rich, kindly old lady
who does not give shooting-parties, but simply
employs a keeper as part of her establishment.
He had no idea of driving partridges, but was not
a bad shot, and attended local shooting-matches to
compete for fat pigs with regularity, if not success.
He also appeared to be an authority on rook-shoot-
ing, possessing a reputation — which I at that time
very much envied — for being decidedly good at
rooks. From what I saw of his rook-shooting, he
maintained his reputation — so long as the birds sat
on a tree. My brother and I, on every possible
occasion, would ask this old keeper how he was, not
so much from motives of anxiety for his health as
to hear his invariable reply, ' Nicely, thank you,
previous to a cold.' Another of his peculiarities
was a marked lack of density in the whiskers on the
right side of his face. We never tired of hearing
him relate the stirring episode during which the
whiskers were torn from his face, roots and all, by
a ' porcher.'

Many old keepers are well-known characters ;
in fact, they are almost as much landmarks as
the trees and windmills. Of one old chap I have

MY BROTHER KEEPERS 201

a peculiarly vivid recollection, since he has afforded
me many a good laugh — sometimes when my coun-
tenance should have remained placid under any
circumstances. This old keeper, many of whose
remarks and ways appeared to be privileged, was
accustomed to the honour of shaking hands with
a noble earl whenever he turned up at a shooting-
party. On one memorable morning the earl was
expected, and the keeper stood ready. Up dashed
his lordship's carriage, out jumped the earl with
extended hand and a genial * Good-morning.' The
keeper grasped the hand, and reciprocated the
earl's salutation with, * Good - mornin', mister.'
Then, perceiving the enormity of his crime, he
added, in tones of vehement regret, ' There, what
be I a-sayin' of? Dashed if I knows — in coorse
I means " my gawd " !'

Another old keeper — who, by the way, possessed
a terrific voice — had gradually acquired the habit,
not only of making what were intended to be pithy
remarks to no one in particular, but of soliloquizing
at sundry times and in divers places. He had
practically no respect for places, and, apparently,
not overmuch for persons. Covert-shooting days
were especially productive of his diction. He
would place the guns with : * My lord, you 'alt at
the next stick, wull 'e, plee-az ? Colonel So-and-so,
you can go as far as yer can — and then stop-like.
Mister So-and-so, you bide pretty much where you

202 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

be. And you, T'other Gent, take off and get along-
side o' the beaters/ Then, having walked down
the line of guns, giving each in passing some final
admonition, more often than not of an irrelevant
nature, he would take up his stand at a convenient
spot in the rear. If the beaters were some time
coming on, he would postpone his soliloquy for
a while ; otherwise he began at once — after giving
his dog an appreciable ' reminder.' Though he
chiefly chose for his subject generalities concerning
the beat, if a fox showed up he dealt with it
promptly, somewhat after this fashion : ' Cunning
old beggar that ! T'others wouldn't be 'arf so bad
if 'twarn't for 'is learnin' on 'em. Shan't be sorry
when 'e's gone where the good niggers goes/

A volley of ineffective shots at a pheasant of the
* corker ' type would be sure to bring forth a torrent
of his sympathetic comment, much as follows :
' Now, 'e were a good un ! Us can't allus kill.
Didn't much think the likes o' they would stop
'im. Don't know as I could 'er done it myself.
Wants Mister So-and-so for sich ones.' As a
beat proceeded, and shooting became more frequent,
you could hear in the lulls of firing his comments —
always made in trumpet tones — of a vividly topical
nature. When I have been loading I have suffered
terrible torture in wrestling with desire to laugh
at his quaint, boldly expressed remarks. Once I
collapsed utterly, and had to retire to the seclusion

MY BROTHER KEEPERS 203

of another ride to give unrestrained expression to
my mirth.

A man cannot be a successful keeper unless he
is a skilled diplomatist. I do not, however, wish
to imply for one moment that the diplomatic keeper
corresponds with the cunning, mistrustful, and un-
trustworthy sort — the man you never feel sure of.
The majority of sportsmen know just the type of
man I mean ; his brother keepers know him as
well, and detest him accordingly. But genuine
diplomacy is a priceless gift. If the truth is told,
one of its chief opportunities arises when dealing
with employers. This, I admit, should not be so ;
but it is mainly the employers' fault. I remember
a keeper who was employed for many years by a
man much given to showing his displeasure by
losing his temper, when he would shout for the
keeper in extremely forcible phrases. I asked the
keeper one day how he managed to cope with
these outbursts, which averaged about three a day
He summed up his method by saying that he ' took
ne'er a mossel o' notice on 'em, bless ye !' if he
could avoid it. Whether he was some distance
away, or quite near, so long as he was out of
sight, he would, if pressed, make excuse that he
did not hear. This excuse seemed to me, in view
of the samples of his employer's yells, slightly sar-
castic. But if there was no help for it, and he had
to face the music, the keeper said he had long since

204 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

discovered that the only useful weapon was the
flattest of contradiction. When this keeper was
forced to acknowledge an outbreak, it was worth
walking a long way to hear his rendering of ' Yes,
sir/ It suggested the concern of a mother saying
'There, there,' to her baby; hinted at deafness;
contained the regulation chord of respect ; implied
faith in the power of a soft reply for assuaging
wrath ; and possessed a subtle note of sarcasm.

Now I will tell of another variety of diplomacy.
The old keeper of whose soliloquizing tendency I
have spoken told me how, by diplomacy of a rather
drastic type, he gained credit where others failed —
in fact, where there was really no credit to be
gained. An employer of several keepers had
acquired rabbit fever in its most virulent form.
The order went forth that the last rabbit should be
obliterated. It was carried out in so far that the
rabbits were got down till only two or three re-
mained, and these had acquired, from ceaseless
persecution, marvellous cunning in avoiding snares
or traps. But few rabbits open many holes, even
in a single night ; and the fever-stricken employer
concluded from the holes he saw that still many
rabbits were surviving. Keeper after keeper was
ordered to trap the hole-openers at the scene of
their labours. They all failed ; and no wonder,
remembering the small number of the survivors, and
the vastness of their experience. Even the privilege

MY BROTHER KEEPERS 205

of retaining all captured rabbits failed to have any
marked effect on the number of victims. Finally,
our hero's turn came. Even he could not succeed ;
though if soliloquizing had been the object, he would
have been the very man. But he did this : at
certain holes he made, as it were, a troubling of the
ground, as if a rabbit had been trapped. And the
cry went up from the fevered lips of his employer,
' This is the man to catch rabbits !' From that time
forth our hero was clothed in the purple of his craft.

Many keepers have I known to become famous
for their stock phrases, if for no other reason.
There was one who generally had a retriever bitch
with him ; and when he wished to stimulate her
efforts to find wounded game, he would exclaim at
intervals, ' Good dawg — old bitch !' This drollery
never failed to arouse the appreciation of the beaters.
Everyone would make a point of enquiring of this
old fellow, on every reasonable occasion, after his
wife's health, for the sake of hearing his unfailing
reply, * Oh, she's sharpish, thank 'ee.' Again, what-
ever you told him — whether something quite obvious
or something quite new to him — would always be
received with, ( I knawed it. Ah ! / knawed it.'

Though keepers, in their contact with strangers,
are men of few words, not easily dragged into con-
versation, and almost aggressively suspicious — let
two or more keepers meet, and their tongues are very
speedily loosened, making it difficult to believe they

206 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

are themselves. They vie with the proverbial
loquacity of women of all ages. But no matter how
often keepers meet, or how long they talk, their
topic of conversation is always the same — game.
Even when a keeper goes for a brief holiday, his
sole interest, judging by his remarks, is for the
game he encounters. I have often thought that a
record of keepers' dreams would be interesting ;
but I am sure there would be few in which game
and shooting did not predominate.

With few exceptions the keepers I have met have
been not only keepers, but sportsmen. Some of the
old school counted a successful haul of October
pheasants, walked up in turnips, fine sport ; others
considered the beating of coverts from ride to ride,
resulting in a thorough snuffing of tame birds, the
crowning example of their sporting ethics ; and
others scorned the idea of shooting at pheasants
which were low or slow while there was half a
chance of making them into rocketers. All these
men were at heart good sportsmen, each according
to his light. Degree of sportsmanship is all a
question of training and ability ; besides, in estimating
the sportsmanship of keepers, one must not forget
that old adage, ' Like master, like man,' is especially
applicable.

The keeper who, for all the years he can re-
member, has had drummed into him the theory and
practice of 'mopping-up,' would feel his sportsman-

MY BROTHER KEEPERS 207

ship offended by a gun who shot birds before they
rose at all. The high-bird keeper would be dis-
gusted at the sight of a flank-gun mowing down
birds representing supremely sporting shots for the
forward guns. The high-bird keeper belongs, I
consider, to the highest standard of sportsmanship.
If he found himself filling a post where mops would
be more sporting weapons than guns, he would
have my sympathy were he sacked on the spot for
deprecating the proceedings as massacre. The old
keeper who years ago had charge of a shoot I once
managed was a grand sportsman — to the fullest
extent of his creed. He is now dead, perhaps
fortunately ; for if he could have seen with mortal
eye my plan of beating the coverts, and the posi-
tions of the guns, I am sure he would be seized with
a fatal fit. I shall never forget his excitement when
he watched me kill the first driven partridge he
had ever seen definitely stopped. It was a kill in
striking contrast to that of other birds alleged to
have collapsed after topping some brow on the
horizon. I have always felt thankful, for the old
chap's sake, that I failed to score a brace.

Keenness is one of the most striking qualities of
keepers as a class. You certainly meet with keen-
ness personified when you see the porters who greet
the arrival of main-line trains at the London stations.
Theirs is not the same species of keenness as
keepers'. Porters' keenness is begotten of lust for

208 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

silver and copper. The keenness of keepers is con-
stant, and is prompted by a higher motive, as when
a tired man voluntarily takes a long tramp in the
late evening, after an arduous day's work, on the
remote chance of adding another head of game to
the season's tally.

There is one point upon which all keepers are
extremely sensitive — the bagging of a pheasant on
an adjoining shoot, within sight or sound of the
boundary. I must admit that such an event had a
potent effect upon myself. When a keeper personally
witnesses the various scenes leading up to the fatal
shot, the effect is much aggravated. There is,
however, no sight which pleases him more than to
see a pheasant elude a neighbouring keeper and
return to his own wood. Yet I know many keepers
who will behold with equanimity various wholesale
disasters to their pheasant prospects, yet regard the
loss of an isolated bird during the season as a
calamity. I have heard a keeper actually boast of
the necessity of carrying a bucket, in which to
collect the dead, at each round of the coops.
Another would turn out hen pheasants with cut
wings into the jaws of foxes without any more com-
punction than is suggested by the remark that ' he
supposed they'd have the (whatever was his pet
adjective) lot.'

A keeper who rears only a few score pheasants
often will labour under the delusion that every

MY BROTHER KEEPERS 209

pheasant within half a day's walk of his beat must
be one of his tame birds. I remember myself being
the object of a terrible torrent of words from a
keeper, one of whose woods ran along the side of
my boundary. My ground near this wood consisted
of seven hundred acres of partridge-fields, on which
some two hundred wild pheasants were bred annually.
Two other shoots had coverts adjoining my end
boundaries. As all three parties concerned went in
for a few hand-reared pheasants, I refrained from
taking advantage of the opportunities October pre-
sented, only bagging an occasional good bird in
the course of partridge-driving. The number we
bagged in this particular season amounted to seven !
I had been incapacitated by illness, and the
1 house ' had run right out of game. So on the first
day on which I was able to get about, though it
was as much as I could manage to get my gun to
my shoulder while a flying pheasant remained in
sight, I tried my luck in a few dells near the
boundary. I had missed several birds with unusual
ease, when a hen appeared at the invitation of my
old dog, and rising to a good height, gave me
extra time to ' align my piece.' She did not respond
to my effort by falling to the shot, but more or less
towered, to fall finally with a thud on a bare field,
in full view of some copse-workers in the adjoining
wood. I gathered from subsequent events that they
told the keeper, probably on the chance of a pint

14

210 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

of beer or a rabbit. The printable portion of this
keeper's remarks, when he saw me, was to the effect
that he knew very well he was two hundred birds
' shart,' and now he knew the reason why. When
I told him he must choose between my version of
the affair — with a season's total of seven — or experi-
ence next season the reality of being * two hundred
shart,' he reflected wisely ; I ' liquidated ' him, and
we parted good friends. In spite of endless worry-
ing about pheasants, you seldom hear a keeper
mourning for boundary partridges.

The majority of keepers are ever ready for a
glass of beer, but the less they drink within the
precincts of a public-house, the better for their
keeperships. In a casual way a keeper may often
pick up useful information by calling at a public-
house ; and all is well if this be his object in calling
rather than beer, the curse of many an otherwise
excellent keeper. I remember one keeper who
simply could not pass a public-house ; and the pro-
prietor knew that so long as beer was in his cup he
would stay. So whenever mine host fancied rabbit-
pie, he arranged that this keeper's cup should be
replenished from time to time, till he or his sons
returned from ferreting. I recall a good old story
alleged to have concerned two Scotch keepers who
were accustomed at regular intervals to meet at a
half-way house of refreshment. They would give
it out that they held these meetings purely for

MY BROTHER KEEPERS 211

business purposes. It was the custom of these two
worthy debaters to stable their ponies in special
stalls. One day a rival keeper changed the ponies'
places ; and it is perhaps better to draw a veil over
what happened when their respective wives found
themselves welcoming somebody else's husband.

The extravagant keeper is not unknown. He
has generally been nurtured on some big shooting
estate where the employer's money was no object.
But when he takes a single-handed place his ex-
travagant ways quickly come to the surface ; and
probably it is not long before he is leaving ' to
better himself' and — his employer. Very possibly
he does not always know that he is extravagant ;
others may discover this by many signs. There is
the signal given by relays of new leather gaiters, of
a particularly aggressive shade of brown-to-mustard-
yellow, which he is much given to wearing. Then,
again, he simply cannot resist emptying those piled
sacks of golden maize. Even after the bulk of his
pheasants are shot he must go on carpeting the rides
with maize. For shooting-days he will engage the
services of forty beaters when fi ve-and-twenty would
be ample. If he had to pay out of his own pocket
for all these luxuries, he might discover in time that
they were not indispensable.

Some species of extravagant keepers possess a
perfect mania for game, dog, and poultry medicines ;
the weirder and higher-sounding their name, the

14—2

212 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

greater the attraction. I knew one who so firmly
believed in anything of which he did not know the
constituents that he used to take a dose himself
whenever he felt queer— which was often, and small
wonder. He even tried to induce me to have a
dose of one of his unknown quantities. When his
birds showed no signs of anything except good
health, he very soon persuaded himself that they
had got a touch of something. And off went an
order for a bottle of the preparation of his fancy.

I must not forget to mention the exaggerating,
boasting, and lying keeper — unfortunately he, too,
is not unknown. Towards the end of a September
following one of those disastrous partridge-breeding
seasons, the very memory of which is as the vilest
nightmare, I met the keeper of a neighbouring place,
and asked him how he had fared, knowing that he
had recently managed a three-days' shoot. I sug-
gested that the overwhelming rain of June might
have destroyed his partridges. Not a bit of it ;
his total for the three days was three hundred brace
— a very fine record for the locality in the best of
seasons. Thoroughly interested, I hinted that one
of the three days might have resulted in a bag of a
hundred brace. * Oh yes,' he replied, in his hurry
to tell another boasting lie ; ' why, by Jove ! we got
pretty near fifty brace the best day. Three hundred
brace, I tells ye, my lad, in the three days!' I
craved enlightenment of this wonderful man as to

MY BROTHER KEEPERS 213

how so many of his birds had survived the wet
summer. Assuming a tone of wondrous condescen-
sion, this keeper among keepers was kind enough to
give me a general outline of his methods. Directly
he found all his partridges were being washed off
their nests, he had told his ' chaps ' to collect all the
eggs. (I noted with interest that he did not person-
ally conduct the collection.) The eggs he ' clapped '
under hens, hatched them, and reared ' the lot.' It
was very simple.

We all know, and, I think, have considerable faith
in, the keeper who never will own to having swarms
of birds ; when, however, he admits having f some '
birds, we know that there is indeed ' something ' in
store for us. There is, too, the perpetually pes-
simistic keeper ; yet if you take his pessimism with
the necessary grains of salt, you will not find him
without a good show of game. But you must never
forget that his birds suffer annually from the ' garpes
— somethink cruel.'

CHAPTER XIV

BEATERS AND STOPS

The shooter a beater appreciates — Bad guns, bad beating — The
beater question — Beaters ancient and modern — A beater's
business— Host, keeper, and beaters— Complaints of beaters —
Poachers as beaters — Stops — Beaters' strikes — The beaters' lunch
— How to manage beaters — The beaters' supper.

' I LIKES to see a man a-shootin' as if 'e know'd what
Je was got at — not lookin' as if 'e thought 'e was
huntin' or playin' at golfs/ said one of my beaters.
And I always like to see a man beating as if he
were thinking of what he is doing — not strolling
about, apparently for the benefit of his health. I
do not say that the best of guns would make some
men into good beaters, but bad guns always make
good beaters beat badly. Bad shooting has a
terribly disheartening effect upon beaters, who
scarcely can be blamed for feeling that their labour
is in vain. They can see no point in blazing away
all day without some sort of proportionate result.
Neither can I.

The problem of beaters, I hope, is not ever likely
to become, in the smoking-room, a topic so absorbing

214

BEATERS AND STOPS 215

as is the servant question in other departments of
modern households. Still, the subject of beaters has
needed consideration of late years. In some kinds
of shooting the employment of dogs instead of
human beaters is all very well ; indeed, dogs are
infinitely superior to men in certain conditions. But
in the usual circumstances of modern shooting, men,
and plenty of them, too, are indispensable. Time
was when people either shot over their own land or
that of their friends and acquaintance, on which an
annual crop of young beaters appeared with more
regularity than game. And so, when a day was
fixed for shooting, all that was necessary was to
name the number of beaters required, and the whole
army was forthcoming from the estate, supplemented
by men out of work, and, on the more important
days, by hands gladly lent by tenant-farmers. The
majority of these beaters knew their work : each
ride and track through the woods ; each field by
name and its current crop ; each hedgerow and dell ;
the fences, ponds, trees, and many other very useful
landmarks, familiarity with which saves time, and
tends to avoid annoying mistakes on shooting-days.
But the beaters a keeper must nowadays rely on
—and often be thankful to secure at all — are mostly
mere mercenary outsiders, men who possess little
interest in the estate, its shooting, or the bag —
beyond lunch and wages. Lucky is the keeper who
can command a few trusty, experienced men to

216 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

sandwich among his raw levies. Many present-
day beaters are young men who have not realized
till late in the day the wisdom of learning to do
something well — men who, as striplings, scorned the
few shillings a week they were able to earn on the
land during their apprenticeship to agriculture, be-
cause of the far more lucrative but temporary em-
ployment in towns ; the reason of their high wages
being not so much that they were worth them as
that the demand for unskilled labour for the time
being exceeded the supply.

Then there are the unemployed of towns ; some
are respectable men whose trade is slack, and some
are by no means proof against helping themselves
from the bag. Possibly the latter belong to a self-
help band, or have an irrepressible leaning towards
practical pilfering. At any rate, they require
looking after in a double sense. Not the least
drawback of having to depend on such men is
that one is unlikely to be able to obtain the
services of the same men even for two or three
consecutive days' beating. You may be con-
gratulating yourself upon having instilled some
notion of the principles of beating into the more
promising, only to find the next time you require
them that they have got work. Thus it will be
gathered that it is often grossly unfair to blame a
keeper for bad beating — so bad, perhaps, that it is
obvious to the ordinary run of shooters. It shows

BEATERS AND STOPS 217

what a keeper has to put up with. For if bad
beating, caused by bad beaters, is evident to the
guns from their view -points on the rides, how
much more so must it be to the keeper behind
the scenes, where he notices each trivial mistake
of omission and commission ? — points which, apart
from radically bad beating, make for a continual
leakage of success that might have been. If a
gun is in doubt as to how much a keeper in
charge of a party of beaters has to depend on
each individual's gumption, let him take practical
command of an ordinary set of beaters during a
day's covert-shooting of known possibilities. Half
the time he will not know where the beaters are,
or, for that matter, where he is himself. I remember
a man who, as a rule, shot well ; but one always
could tell that he was a bit off the spot by the
way in which he would blare out at his keeper
that he and the beaters were playing the fool.

I have known men who had beaten all their lives,
yet were absolutely hopeless so far as gumption was
concerned ; some of them men with fifty years' ex-
perience of beating, whom I would rather pay to
stay away than have for nothing. I counted it
good work on the part of one man (whom, of
course, I employed only when I was very short of
beaters) if he kept in the right beat. When he
started near the outside of a beat, and finished
anywhere near the middle, his companions were

218 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

wont to congratulate him. The curious thing
about men who are so erratic is that they are
much more mclined than others to be indignant if
you offer a timely hint with the view of preventing
them from ruining your best beat.

There is a simple rule for beaters which is the
whole secret of success under a competent director :
To do as they are told. Often have I heard a man
say, ' Oh, I thought so-and-so.' Just imagine the
result of from half a dozen to a hundred beaters
each doing only what he thought. A few might
think usefully, but the thoughts of the crew, collec-
tively, would be — well, a little too divergent. It
is most unwise for a host and his keeper continually
to be shouting contradictory orders to beaters.
Nothing is more likely to upset them. Neither
is it well that sportsmen should address beaters
in any but simple phraseology. Once a beater
came to me saying, ' The guv'nor wants we to
bring a "da'meter" to 'im — but I never heerd tell
o' sich a thing.' Another beater complained to
me that a shooter had reprimanded him, not for
shouting ' Mark !' when game rose, but for not
giving detailed information as to where. * When,'
said the shooter, 'a bird rises, you should first
draw my attention to it by the exclamation
"Mark!" and then proceed to describe its direc-
tion by adding "to the extreme left," as the case
may be ; it is no good for you to say " Mark !"

BEATERS AND STOPS 219

when I don't know where to look.' ' But,' the
beater told me, ' I casn't see why 'e should be
so mighty pertickler, for he don't shoot no better
for seein' what 'e shoots at.'

I often have heard discussed the question of
employing as beaters men with a taste for poaching.
Of course, no one with any pretension to sanity
would dream of importing poachers into a district
for beating. But if there are local men who do
their ' little bit ' more from love of sport than of
gain, and all your keeper -strength is occupied
with the day's shooting, I think it certainly is
wiser to employ the doubtful ones as beaters.
Then you do know where they are and what
they are doing. Each of such men is worth, as
a rule, two or three of the ordinary type, and
will spot game that has carried on and dropped
(and probably would be lost) more than ten
times sufficient to pay his wages. Besides, being
a local man, he is not likely to learn much about
your woods and their contents that he did not
know before. But should a man be a professional
poacher — if he is not beating with you, he is certain
to be poaching by himself.

There always will be beaters who are not above
stealing game if they see a promising chance.
But it is not right, in any case, to expose the
men more than is necessary to what must be a
strong temptation. Here is an incident that

220 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

occurred when I was helping a neighbouring
keeper. During the last beat I came up some
way behind the beaters, and saw a legged rabbit
stowed behind a stump just in from the road by
which some of the men would go home after
being paid. While I was telling the keeper that
I could not find the pheasant that had dropped
back, I gave him a game-card, ostensibly contain-
ing particulars of the bag, but in fact informing
him of the hidden rabbit. The keeper, after
paying the beaters on the spot, suggested that
they might like a rabbit a-piece ; and there being,
of course, no refusal, he put aside nineteen rabbits
for the twenty beaters. Quickly enough came an
intimation that there was one ' shark' * So there
is,' the keeper replied ; ' but there's one already
legged behind yonder stump, and whoever put it
there may go and fetch it, or go without.'

How many beaters, I wonder, have made a pot
of beer out of purloined cartridges ? A case came
under my notice of a man who was a sort of cross
between a beater and a keeper ; he was also the
father of a large family, and believed in beer. He
had quite a stock of cartridges, which he offered for
sale at three-and-ninepence a hundred. I discovered
one beater's little game quite unexpectedly ; in
fact, I never had the least suspicion of him before
he gave himself away. He was telling me how he
had shot something stone-dead at seventy yard

BEATERS AND STOPS 221

and produced one of his cartridges, suggesting that
I should try it. I saw at once that it was of a
special make that had been used by one shooter
only during the previous season, and I remembered
who had carried his bag.

Once, while we were having lunch, I heard one
beater giving another a most graphic description of
the recent history of a rabbit, which, it seemed, had
remained seated almost till the narrator had trodden
on it ; perhaps since the question, ' Why hasn't thee
knock'd un down, then ?' cast aspersion on his
personal dexterity, he replied warmly, * Why, I
never sid un afore 'e was out o' sight.' One of my
beaters, who neither could read nor write, might
have made a cautious lawyer. He had seen three
pheasants fall, and as the gun who had shot them
seemed very anxious to let everyone know that they
were dead as rags, I told the man to go and fetch
them. Upon my reminding him that he knew
exactly where they were, he said : ' I knows where
they ought to be.' And my old dog eventually had
the satisfaction of justifying this cautious admission
by fetching one of the birds from the far end of the
wood.

Beaters are great and good critics of shooting.
I have known beaters to be so confident in the
ability of their favourite shooting hero as to wager
beer by the quart, and even by the gallon, on his
superiority over some admittedly useful rival.

222 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

When their favourite does not shoot up to his usual
standard, the beaters are ready with some such
excuse as, ' He isn't hisself or summat ; you could
tell that by the looks on un.' For the useless
shooter who is continually giving trouble about
game that there is no immediate prospect of picking
up, and every trifle he can think of to worry other
people unnecessarily, the scorn of beaters is beyond
description. One old beater, having stated the bag
of a party of shooters, made this quaintly significant
comment : ' But they doan't 'its 'n every time they
shoots 'n off.' A man took a shoot in my neighbour-
hood, but gave it up after one season, though it was
said to have yielded him bags that averaged rather
more than a beater a day, besides other game. It
so happened that the skeleton of a suicide was
found during the first day's covert-shooting by the
succeeding tenant. No one seemed to know any-
thing about it, but a local sportsman, who had shot
with the previous tenant once — and once only —
suggested that it was the last of So-and-so's beaters.
For covert-shooting, beaters are not of much use
without stops ; and stops are worse than useless
unless they are carefully placed, and stay where
they are placed. There is a very golden rule for
the management of stops — that they should be
placed, and not be allowed to place themselves, no
matter how well they know the ground. An old
woman taught me the value of this rule. I had told

BEATERS AND STOPS.

VERY YOUNG HEDGEHOGS.

TUG-OF-WAR WITH A RAT

BEATERS AND STOPS 223

her that her place was by a gate at a certain corner
of a certain wood, and that she was to go straight
there, and stay there, till the beaters came just
before lunch-time to take the beat near which she
would be standing. I asked her whether she quite
understood, and offered to send someone to put her
in position. She broke into such a torrent of
scornful remarks, to the effect that if she did not
know the gate after being about so many years, she
'didn't know nothinV Well, on this old dame
depended the success of the final beat of the wood.
I had expected to find eighty to a hundred pheasants
in that beat : there were only a score. Nor did I
see any more of the woman till after lunch, when
we had gone to another covert, half a mile away.
She calmly told me that she thought it c didn't make
much odds where she went so long as she didn't get
shot.' Once two very small boys, holding each other
by the hand, came to me the evening before a shoot
and said, ' Please, keeper, do you want any more
shooters ?'

Beaters' strikes are not unknown. Of course, if
your beaters are town wastrels, who never have done
any beating before, and expect to stroll about
casually for an hour or so armed with a silver-
topped cane, to feed on truffles stewed in champagne,
and to receive the bulk of the bag in addition to the
pay of a music-hall star, then you may expect any-
thing. But when there is a strike among genuine

224 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

country beaters there is something wrong some-
where, for such men as a class are too fond of sport
to take so drastic a step without reasonable cause.
To keepers I would say : ' Never ask beaters to do
anything you would not do yourself;' and to shoot-
ting-hosts : ' Never incite your keeper to impose
unreasonable tasks on beaters.' Remember that
beaters can grow tired ; that rain, snow, cold, bad-
going, and the loss or gain of sixpence, are of more
consequence to beaters than to guns. Treat your
beaters as human beings, and you will hear nothing
of strikes. But suppose a strike is imminent ; what
should be done? In the first place you must act
quickly and decisively, remembering that for the
time being those threatening to strike have the
upper hand of you, and that you must choose
between abandoning shooting for the remainder of
the day and conceding their demands sufficiently to
induce them to finish out the day.

However, the majority of beaters' strikes are
confined to a section of the party. When you
suspect this to be the case, the best plan is to make
it known that those who wish to strike can strike.
I consider that if you give actual strikers the pro-
portion of the customary day's pay up to the time
of striking, it is as much as they are entitled to. I
am not so sure that they are entitled to anything,
unless their strike has been brought about by your
demand that they should do something unreason-

BEATERS AND STOPS 225

able. You have at least a counter-claim for more
than equivalent damages, especially if they spring a
strike on you immediately after a good lunch. I do
not know of any decided cases for settling difficulties
which may arise from wet, snow, and other causes
necessitating shooting being put off. Take, for
instance, the case in which beaters do their work
till it is decided, say, at lunch-time or after, that the
weather is too bad to continue shooting. I should
think him a very mean man, and no sportsman at
all, who suggested anything short of a full day's

pay-
But suppose beaters are booked for a shoot which

is put off not later than the day before, so that their
usual occupation, if any, is not interfered with, I
should say there is no obligation on the part of
those by whom they were engaged ; but it is usual
to give all so put off the refusal of beating when the
shoot does come off. When the morning is con-
sidered too wet to make a start, and you keep the
men waiting on the chance till lunch-time, then it
would be fair to give them their lunch and a half-
day's pay, even though they did no beating. If the
weather about the usual time for starting is so
hopeless that any prospect of shooting is out of the
question for the day, then beaters who have turned
up should be given their lunch. Without throwing
money about carelessly, all such questions should be
dealt with on lines of liberality — not only in the

15

226 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

interests of sport, but in fairness to the beaters. If,
however, you care to stipulate with each beater
when you engage him, on the basis of no shooting
no pay, or so much shooting so much pay, you are
at perfect liberty to do so ; but you will not find it
an easy job to obtain beaters.

Beaters who are in regular work on farms often
can return to it when shooting is put off or curtailed,
but since their farm pay naturally is deducted when
they are lent for beating, they should be paid so
that they lose nothing. Beyond the broad lines
already suggested, one should not be expected
to indemnify piece-workers (for instance, copse-
workers), who, if it were too wet to shoot, would
not be able to follow their usual occupation.
Lunch should be ample recompense to men who
would lose nothing by going to and returning from
the place of meeting, except when they are asked
to wait.

A word on catering for beaters may be useful,
especially to those ladies who still have any influence
over their cooks. I venture to suggest that some
culinary divinities themselves may be grateful —
inwardly, of course — for a hint concerning so
plebeian an affair as a beaters' lunch. For every
beater, take three-quarters of a pound of raw meat
without bone (roasting round or boiling silverside
are the most satisfactory joints), a quarter of a
pound of cheese, and one-third of a quartern-loaf,

BEATERS AND STOPS 227

salt and mustard. Cook the meat, and when cold
cut into slices ; then half a pound (owing to waste
in cooking) will be the portion of each man, and
either can be made up into separate parcels with
the other rations, or bulked for the men to share
out among themselves. The lunch of stops (who
in eating capacity equal beaters) always should
be made up into separate packages. Stews are
not a success for beaters' lunch, not being easy to
negotiate unless accompanied by proper appliances
in adequate numbers. Meat-pies (one for each
man) make a good change, but their ingredients
must be carefully chosen, or they will be liable
to disagree with the beaters. Hot soup is much
appreciated as a supplementary item on raw days,
and half a dozen unbreakable mugs will serve for
an ordinary party of beaters. Baked potatoes also
are acceptable, both to keen appetites and cold
hands. Beer, of course, is the regulation drink.
Reckoning three glasses to a pint, enough should
be sent out to allow four glasses to a man at lunch.

Thus, supposing you are catering for sixteen
beaters, you would order twelve pounds of meat
(raw), four pounds of cheese, say, six quartern-
loaves, two gallons of beer, and some bottles of
minerals (barring soda-water). Beating is hungry
work, and you cannot expect men to do well unless
fed well. I do not believe in giving more money,
and less or no lunch ; neither do beaters.

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228 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

The question of beer and beaters is important.
Many beaters, if they got the chance, would drink
considerably more than four glasses at lunch-time
or any other time. But I have come to the con-
clusion that the most satisfactory all-round load is
four glasses. A heavier is inclined to clog the
intelligence of the ordinary beater, and to make
him mouthy, with an irrepressible desire to give
tongue at sight or sound of game. It is no bad
plan to offer a glass of beer and morsel of bread
and cheese to each beater who turns up punctually
in the morning, and, if only in the interest of good
beating, can both eat and drink before one o'clock.
Many of your beaters will have had an early
breakfast (without ham or eggs) and a long walk ;
and, besides, they are accustomed to dine at noon.
I cannot too strongly condemn a foolishly liberal
supply of beer. Certainly I have heard of men
who, unless they were drunk, could not perform
various feats, but I never have known a man
to beat any better for too much beer. A keeper
acquaintance had an awkward experience with his
beaters. Their lunch was supplied from a public-
house, and whoever was told off to put their beer
into jars put it into some half full of gin. There
was no shooting after lunch. I knew of a shoot
where each beater was saturated with two quarts
of beer before starting ; during the day jars fre-
quently were broached, and at night, as one beater

BEATERS AND STOPS 229

explained, they could have ' as much as they minded
to squelch.' The supplier of such liberal beer may
have meant well ; but the man who, after the
beaters have had a hard day, says, ' Good-night,
men ; you have done well/ and tells the keeper
to give them a pint of beer and a smoke, is thought
infinitely more of.

It is a bad plan to make ammunition-bearers
of beaters, especially when partridge-driving : the
men have plenty to do to get along without any
handicap. But whenever there is any cartridge-
carrying to be done by beaters, I think it only
fair that the best beaters should have the first
chance. It is pleasant to see a sportsman carrying
his bag about till he can see * my man — you know,
the old chap with the long corduroy gaiters.'

Here are a few words, mainly for keepers.
Never become familiar with beaters to the extent
which gives them an impression of equality. Be
courteous, by all means, but never divest yourself
of that something which shows them that you are
their superior officer. I do not mean that you
should give an order to a beater after this fashion :
4 My dear Mr. So-and-so, would you be so kind,
if quite to your taste and convenience, to utilize
your stick for the purpose of beating the bushes
in your vicinity, rather than the undoubted power
of your linguistic charm ?' ' Beat with your sticks,
men, and not with your tongues,' serves the pur-

230 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

pose just as well. Do not shout uncomplimentary
remarks to beaters and under-keepers, or issue
orders in pothouse phraseology. The beaters will
only laugh among themselves, and say, * Hark at
old So-and-so rappin' it out agen !' Moreover,
such an exhibition is not a recommendation to
sportsmen compelled to hear it. It is useful
always to remember that * Come along, men,'
goes a lot further than ' Go on.' You can lead
beaters where you cannot drive them.

Soldiers home on furlough I was always glad
to get as beaters. Though they may lack technical
knowledge, they do as they are told, and they keep
in line — two things of the greatest importance to
good beating. To teach beaters to preserve a
good line I have found more difficult than any-
thing else. Though they may absorb a fair notion
of a straight line, they seem to be quite incapable
of realizing that a hooked line, a semicircle, or any
line which involves a curve, at the same time may
be even, and not zigzag. This failure is most
evident when you signal to the right or left wing
of a line of partridge-drivers to get forward. The
third and fourth men probably will bore ahead
out of all proportion to the second and first, and,
of course, nullify the very object of the move.

Lazy beaters must not be allowed to have their
own way. If you watch a party of beaters told off
to line out ready to begin a covert beat, you will
notice how some of them scheme to get the

BEATERS AND STOPS 231

outside places, so that they may walk along a
ride instead of through the stuff. It is necessary,
as a rule, to have a beater or two on the ride,
between the nearest flank gun and the first beater
in the stuff, to prevent game from breaking out.
But such posts are important, and I always allotted
them as rewards of honour to men of proved
capacity. A keen lookout should be kept for slack-
ness among beaters ; nothing is more infectious, or
more difficult to cure when once it has spread
among the whole party. Do not be harsh and
unreasonable, but when you see any tendency
on the part of the men to follow one another,
check it at once. After lunch, especially, I have
seen a line of beaters consisting of groups of
half a dozen men who were strolling casually
through the thin parts of a beat in Indian file.
Keep your beaters well in hand with firm, decisive
orders, but do not be continually nagging at them.
Once lose your grip of them, and for the rest of
the day they will beat only as their inclination
prompts them.

The beaters' supper is an excellent institution,
and, punctuated by judicious speeches, goes a long
way to weld together those bonds of sporting
sympathy which are so vital to the best interests
of shooting. Even if you cannot afford the menu
of a City company, you can run to rabbit-pie,
than which, washed down with British beer, there
is nothing more to the taste of the British beater.

CHAPTER XV

TRESPASSERS AND POACHERS

A lady and her dog — Primrose-pickers — Egg-poachers — Wilful
destruction of eggs— A lump of coal— Gipsies— Inferences— An
old shepherd — Unsuspected poachers — Plausible excuses of
poachers — Poachers and policy.

TRESPASSERS are a greater worry to the keeper than
poachers — at least, I found them so. One reason
is that trespassers are so much more numerous than
poachers, and the loss of game they cause, by dis-
turbing it, is much greater ; another, that the
keeper is not in a position to get the satisfaction
from trespassers that he can from downright
poachers. In effect, a trespasser often does far
more harm than a genuine poacher.

The lady with a dog is the despair of keepers.
I had come up with a lady whose dog was dis-
porting himself among a lot of sitting partridges
and pheasants, and with polite warmth had called
her attention to the doings of the dear creature.
She deprecated my suggestions with indignation,
saying ' that her dog was a pure-bred Canadian
boar-hound, and would scorn to hunt common game.'
My own opinion was that he was a pure-bred

232

TRESPASSERS AND POACHERS 233

mongrel, slightly related to an Irish terrier ; and
that the commoner game was, the better he was
pleased. However, I did not say so. I assured
the lady that on my beat there were no boars,
Canadian or otherwise ; and that if there were, I
should prefer to deal with them without the help of
her dog. How many ladies, when a partridge has
been driven from her nest by their wretched dog,
have exclaimed, ' You naughty partridge ! how you
frightened me!' I often wish it had frightened
their dog to death. The keeper naturally finds
women difficult to deal with, whether they are
disaster-causing trespassers of innocent intent, or
' noways per tickler what they picks up.' The
clothing of a buxom dame may hide a multitude
of eggs or game. The crinoline must have offered
magnificent facilities for shipping the spoils of
poaching.

I cannot say that I ever knew a keeper who
hated flowers; but I have known many who had
good cause to regret that primroses are at their best
ust as pheasants are sitting. To make matters
worse, the part of a wood where primroses are most
abundant is where pheasants prefer to nest — where
the underwood recently has been cut. I admit that
it is difficult for innocent primrose-pickers to under-
stand the keeper's annoyance, and even harshness
and blurting anger. Perhaps they have not seen
so much as a single pheasant — which means that

234 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

the keeper is lucky to have arrived before three or
four birds were seen to fly up, probably from their
unseen nests. Times without number I have been
obliged to interfere with the innocent pleasure of
supremely happy children. When there are ever
so few nests and truck-loads of primroses, Fate seems
always to lead children to the vicinity of what nests
there are. There is no doubt that * flowering ' and
nutting occasionally are used as a blind for poaching.
But if those with a genuine desire to gather flowers
or nuts would only first ask permission, I think few
keepers are at heart so churlish as to refuse to name
places where no disturbance of game would result.
The keeper hates to see flowers picked and thrown
wantonly away, or hazel-stems hanging bent and
broken across the rides.

Egg-stealing is the easiest and least risky of all
forms of poaching. And it never will cease till
greater care is taken by shooting-men to make
sure that eggs they buy have not been poached.
Hundreds of eggs may be taken without a poacher
going off the public road or path. A keeper may
not search an individual on a public right of way,
however certain he may feel that he would find
eggs ; and by the time the services of a policeman
are obtained the chance has gone. To be able to
swear that you saw anyone take eggs from a nest,
you not only must be very near, but have an un-
obstructed view (which is not easy to manage with-

TRESPASSERS AND POACHERS 235

out great risk of being seen yourself). I knew a
man who, so soon as the nesting season of partridges
began, would travel about as a sharpener of saws.
He had with him a woman who wheeled an old
perambulator. I got a good chance to watch him
one day, when by a ruse I had led him to suppose
that the coast was clear. And I am pretty certain
I might have caught him nicely, if only I had not
removed the eggs from a roadside partridge nest
a few hours before. Strolling along, of course, near
that hedge, which caught the morning sun (so loved
by nesting birds), he spotted the nest, looked this
way and that, stopped, turned over the dead grass
and bits of leaves in the nest, but, unfortunately,
found no eggs. With the idea of scaring him from
my beat for the next few weeks, I suddenly intro-
duced myself, and asked him to explain his conduct.
He had the cheek to tell me that he was searching
for little knobs of chalk, which, he said, were useful
for sharpening saws. How knobs of chalk were
useful for sharpening saws, or why they should be
found in a partridge nest, I never could understand.
One of a gang of four consummately cunning
partridge-eggers would assume the role of an itine-
rant musician, violin-case in hand. What was in
that case I never had a chance to see, nor did I ever
hear the man play. A neighbouring keeper told me
how a tramp who had lifted a clutch of pheasant
eggs caught himself. The man came to the keeper

236 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

and asked if he would buy some eggs. The keeper
said he might, and asked the man to come inside
while the eggs were tested for ' settiness.' From the
inside of an old kettle nine eggs were produced,
and each of them bore a pencil dot. Needless to
say, the eggs were not bought ; but the poacher was
very much sold. The chances are very much
against the most energetic keeper catching an egg-
poacher in the act. The majority of ' fair cops ' are
due to luck. That is easy to understand. What I
cannot understand is why, when there is a clear con-
viction for egg-poaching, the full penalty so seldom
is imposed. Five shillings for each egg stolen or
destroyed is the penalty — framed, presumably, with
the idea of preventing the offence. My opinion is
that the full penalty should be imposed in all cases
except when there is a reasonable inference that the
eggs were taken to feed the hungry. To test the
taste of pheasants' eggs, I boiled one that had been
laid only a day ; but I did not think it at all pleasant.
A large game-farmer told me that he sold four
thousand late pheasant eggs for restaurant purposes.
I suppose they would have conferred on them by
menu-makers the title, ' CEufs de Pluvier.'

A good many eggs are stolen by country people
to eat. Once, having a suspicion, I was lying near
a nest in which were a partridge and two pheasant
eggs — marked. A boy, on his way home from
school, took them out, gave the two pheasant eggs

TRESPASSERS AND POACHERS 237

to his sister (evidently to take home), and proceeded
to suck the partridge egg, when I made known my
presence. Although that boy denied all that I had
been watching from a distance of a few feet, even
to putting his hand behind his back and dropping
the egg which he had tapped ready to suck, I think
I prevented him from growing up a regular egg
thief. On another occasion I traced to a woman
the disappearance of eleven partridge eggs, which,
by the way, had been sat upon about ten days.
The woman confessed that she had eaten them all,
pleading that she 'fancied summat ta-asty.' And I
should imagine that her desire was gratified — by
eggs that had been sat upon for ten days. The
wilful destruction of eggs is a difficult matter to deal
with ; it is so easy to destroy eggs without causing
evidence strong enough to prove that they were
destroyed wilfully. Of course, it is different when
the offender is caught in the act of killing a sitting
bird with a stick or a catapult. A woodman, who
thought there were no foxes about, told me that he
felt sure a partridge had been knocked off her nest,
because, he said, there were a lot of feathers about,
and a lump of coal was lying near. Neither of us
could imagine who had done this thing. The lump
of coal pointed to someone living in a cluster of
cottages, the only ones within half a mile. I proved
to the woodman that no one had knocked the bird
off with the lump of coal, for the herbage beneath it

238 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

proved that it had been lying there for ever so long,
while the bird had been gone only a day. Cunning
as that old vixen proved herself to be, I cannot give
her credit for placing that lump of coal near the
nest, to shift the blame for the bird's disappearance.
I found where some boy evidently had amused him-
self by throwing partridge eggs against a gate-post.
I removed the traces of egg from the post, and
never said a word about it. If I had, it probably
would have suggested a rather fascinating pastime
to boys who otherwise never would have thought of
doing such a thing. The keeper whose eggs are
wilfully destroyed, as a rule has served labourers a
dirty trick, or has shown a great want of tact in his
dealings with them.

Gipsies are inveterate stealers of eggs, as of any-
thing else they can lay hands on with small chance
of being caught. Four nearly full nests of partridge
eggs disappeared from a boundary hedge which did
not belong to me. I did not even know of the
existence of the nests till I heard they were gone.
I got hauled up on rather more than suspicion of
shifting the eggs. I asked who said I had done so,
and was informed, the keeper beyond my boundary.
I asked why he had said so, and was informed, some
gipsies had seen me. I lost no time in telling that
keeper that he had the option of believing me or the
gipsies. And he saw what a fool the gipsies had
made of him, also what a fool he had made of

TRESPASSERS AND POACHERS 239

himself. Seeing that gipsies will gorge themselves
on a ewe that has died in the lambing season, it is
not to be wondered at that they relish sitting part-
ridges and pheasants. Once I saved a sitting
pheasant from two gipsy lurchers rather luckily, and
just in the nick of time. I was going along a broad
green roadside, where lay some hedge-trimmings,
when I ' ketch'd eye on ' the bird on her nest, and
almost at the same moment saw a gipsy caravan
coming round a bend of the road — two lurchers all
over the place. I knocked out a full pipe of good
shag nearly on top of the pheasant ; went on un-
concernedly, then turned back, and walked behind
the gipsies, which had the effect of keeping them
more or less on the road. The lurchers went within
a yard of that pheasant without scenting her, and
luckily without seeing her. Next day she hatched
off every egg.

A cunning old labourer gave himself away to me
during my first spring on some strange ground. He
confided to me how, on his way to work, he had
found a fine clutch of partridge eggs on someone
else's ground, and suggested that it would be just as
well if it were arranged that they should hatch on
my ground. It was very thoughtful of him. Another
time, a rough-looking man, called ' Old Jack,' was
working with a gang cutting and stripping (barking)
oaks in my neighbour's woods. Meeting * Old Jack '
one afternoon, when he had been to fetch some beer

240 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

for his mates, and, apparently, had taken the oppor-
tunity to replenish his own boiler, I asked him if the
pheasants were laying well where he was working.
Assuming a very confidential tone, he told me that
he and his mates had found 'a smartish few eggs,'
and that he would be glad to bring me down ' some
jest about nice nestes,' for he 6 didn't think much as
how they'd get e'er a bob up yonder.' A man, who
gave up the business after stealing his share of eggs
without once being caught, let it become known that
he stored the eggs beneath the floor of his wood-
shed, whence his aged father would come and fetch
them and pass them on. In a case in which a large
number of eggs were stolen, it turned out that, by
favour of an innocent coachman, many of them were
shipped to a town in the carriage of the very man
from whose ground chiefly they were taken.

The most honest egg-poachers I ever met were
a lady and gentleman who had taken a house in
the country, but did not know overmuch about
rural matters. I chanced to show them some
pheasant eggs, when they exclaimed, ' Oh, are those
pheasant eggs ?' Then they told me how, one day
out for a cycle ride, they had seen, while walking
up a hill, ten similar eggs in a hollow of the hedge-
bank ; and how they had taken the eggs home, left
them lying about, and finally, not knowing what
they were, had flung them on the dust-heap. This
sort of thing is amusing, but very annoying to a

TRESPASSERS AND POACHERS 241

keeper. Of course, all nests must be found in day-
light ; but your cunning poacher knows that, having
marked them, it is just as easy to fetch the eggs at
night, and a great deal safer. It is well for a keeper
not to put too much faith in persons who tell him
of the whereabouts of setty nests only. Setty eggs
are no good to the egg-poacher. By the end of
June the keeper has heard quite enough about nests
and eggs and birds that ' sets 'ard' to last him till
eggs come again.

Where there are hares there will be people only
too willing to look after them. I had many hundreds
of hares to look after, and never lacked a little
assistance. There was an old shepherd who was
not above ' doing his little bit,' though he was a
most excellent friend in respect to winged game,
and genuinely took care of the leverets he found
among the victuals of his sheep. So, as I had to
put up with him, there was nothing to be gained by
being too hard on him. His favourite plan was to
set a wire or two just off our ground. On one
occasion, about Christmas-time, I removed a hare
from a wire that I felt sure must be his. When at
last the old chap was leaving, for putting in too
much time at the pub, I advised him to shut his eyes
whenever he came across a hare's run in his next
place. ' Why, I never set e'er a wire in my life,'
he said indignantly. I suggested that he should
refer his memory to a run across the corner of a

16

242 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

certain field. * Ah, well, it was like this 'ere,' he
confessed : ' a friend in town writ to I as how 'e
wanted a hare ter-rubble bad, and I owns I did
ketch one far'n. But I never had it arter all.1
Which latter statement, I told him, I believed — and
why.

Curiously enough, the only instance I had of two
hares being caught in one wire at the same time was
in a wire set by a highly respected labourer, who
had the privilege to wire rabbits with a view to
keep them down and let the hares up ! I knew a
groom who might have developed into a regular
hare-poacher, but luckily his beginning was nipped
in the bud. It was his duty to exercise horses in a
field of rough grass near a wood which contained
many hares. The keeper found a snare set on the
bank of the wood, secured by red blind-cord. The
keeper knew that the groom's quarters recently had
been fitted with new blinds, and, by asking this
groom, when he next met him, if he could supply
a bit of blind-cord (preferably red) for snaring
purposes, cured him of a taste for poaching. It was
the job of another groom to tend horses turned out
in a series of fields, in which were some fenced-off
clumps of trees, much used by hares. It was noticed
that the groom was in the habit of carrying a fold-
shore by way of a walking-stick ; and the true
reason became evident when he was seen to enter
one of the clumps, and aim a murderous blow at a

TRESPASSERS AND POACHERS 243

hare crouching against the butt of a tree. The
hare already was dead and stiff. That groom was
converted by getting everyone to ask him if
he had heard of the man who tried to kill a
dead hare.

I lay hidden one early morning, watching a wire
which I had knocked down purposely. At last I
heard the thud of feet and the friction of corduroy
trousers. A man said to his companion, as they
passed the snare, and within arm's length of me,
1 Knock' d down, ain't it ?' The next time the
speaker was met in the ordinary way he was
greeted with, ' Knock'd down, ain't it?' instead of
the time of day. There are a good many people
who prefer to profit by the snares set by others
rather than run the extra risk of setting them them-
selves. And, conversely, a man who is caught in
the act of removing the catch from a snare often
will plead that he did not set it. An old man who
had leave to wire rabbits on my ground complained
that someone was sneaking some of those he caught.
I discovered the culprit ; and on my asking him
why he had taken a rabbit — well knowing he was
robbing an old man of his scanty living — what do
you think he had the impudence to tell me ? That
it was his intention to take it to the old man, who
lived a good three miles away.

A man told me how he and his family kept them-
selves in cheap rabbits for months. A farmer

1 6 — 2

244 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

employed a man to wire rabbits. It soon was dis-
covered that someone helped himself to the rabbits
in the night. The man who told me the story lived
in one part of a semi-detached cottage, and the
farmer's rabbit-catcher in the other. Rabbits con-
tinued to disappear, in spite of watching during the
greater part of most nights. The matter became
the absorbing topic of the two neighbours, who
sometimes watched together. One night the rabbit-
catcher wished to make a journey to a neighbouring
village, and asked his neighbour to keep watch in
his absence ; which he did, and took an extra couple
of rabbits for his trouble.

Once I had the satisfaction of seeing six men
busy trying, by means of a line-ferret, to find a
rabbit in a burrow I had emptied the day before.
Unfortunately, the burrow was in the open, and
only about fifty yards from a main road, and all the
men escaped, running furiously towards the town.
I willingly would have let them off if only they had
waited to let me tell them how many rabbits I had
got from that burrow the day before. One harvest-
time I was watching the finish of the cutting of
some wheat beyond my boundary. An old loafer
appeared with a lurcher, annexed a leveret, and
went off to the nearest pub. On his return, with a
jar of beer, I showed myself, and he promptly came
up and offered me a ' wet.' I asked him if he
thought there were many hares about, and he said

TRESPASSERS AND POACHERS 245

he thought there was ' a smartish sprinklin', though
he hadn't seen ne'er'n in thic vield.'

The sly poacher always has some excuse — very
often worse than none at all. A plausible excuse
will save a poacher who knows that he was com-
mitting nothing more than simple trespass at the
actual moment when the keeper appeared ; the
chances are even that the latter has seen nothing
culpable. A very favourite excuse is that of sudden
indisposition. Such an excuse was offered me by
two men whom I had been watching one Sunday
morning. I got up quite close to them in a spinney
where they were trying to dig out a rabbit with the
help of a dog. I watched the operations for several
minutes before disturbing the diggers. I told them
it was news to me that relief from their alleged
indisposition was to be found in the depths of a
rabbit-burrow. One December afternoon two carters
had returned home early owing to prolonged heavy
rain. Of course, they never dreamt that I should
be about their rather out-of-the-way part of the
place on such an afternoon. I happened to see
them, armed with cudgels, in the pouring rain,
searching along each side of a rabbity hedge, and
among some tufts of grass near by. Owing to the
wetness of the grass, and to the fact that the men
did not trouble now and again to look round, I was
able to walk up behind one of them and touch him
gently on the shoulder before he saw me. I asked

246 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

him what he was doing, and he said he did not
know. The other, the head-carter, now appeared.
He explained that, having killed a weasel near the
spot the day before, they thought they would see if
they could find another. I said it was unlikely that
a weasel would be sheltering under a tuft of grass
on so wet a day, but thanked them for their zeal,
adding that when next they had a fancy for rabbit
' puddinV I should be much obliged if they would say
so. It was ever my policy to prevent poaching
rather than to get people punished for it.

CHAPTER XVI

MY DOGS AND OTHERS

A good dog — A wild dog— Dog-dealing— A London auction — Two
little terriers— Perfect obedience— Two tragedies— A beautiful
Clumber — Distemper — Natural accomplishments of dogs —
Friendships among dogs— And with a goose — A mad dog — Dog-
shooting— Trespassing dogs.

OPINIONS differ as to what is a good dog. A very
learned Oxford classic was standing by me while
I was ferreting and shooting rabbits in a dell ; and
so was a wavy-coated retriever bitch that I had
picked up in a neighbouring town for a sovereign
when I was hard-up for money and a dog. A
rabbit bolted, and tore round the side of the dell.
I scarcely had time to fire before the bitch was off
and back with the rabbit. So impressed was my
companion with the performance of the dog that
I am certain he would have given me a big price
for her had he been in need of a retriever. I got
a litter of puppies from her, one of which I sold
at eighteen months old for twelve pounds to the
son-in-law of a rich brewer, and then sold her
back to her former owner for the same price as
I gave for her.

247

248 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

I was not so lucky with another dog, which I
bought chiefly in self-defence. He was a rather
leggy, harum-scarum-looking black spaniel, belong-
ing to a publican on the far edge of my beat, and
spent most of his time exploring my ground. It
was painfully evident to me that the brute had
a good nose. The nesting season was coming
on. I interviewed the publican, and he wanted
thirty shillings for the spaniel, which I refused
to give. A few days afterwards I got a message
that he would take twenty-five shillings. The
nesting season had begun : birds soon would be
sitting. I set off with a sovereign in my pocket,
and returned with the dog. By Jove, wasn't he
wild ! I put a lead on him, in spite of which,
when passing through a wood, he pranced about
and gave tongue violently at the mere prospect
before him. I sent him off to an officer who
had some rough shooting, and wanted a spaniel —
asking thirty shillings. This sum was sent to me,
I heard afterwards, in a weak moment, on the
strength of the dog's appearance, and my state-
ment that he had a good nose and would retrieve.
A few months afterwards I had the pleasure of
hearing that the dog had given up his evil ways,
and was the best worker his new owner ever had
possessed, and that money could not buy him.

Almost all my dog-dealing plums came by luck ;
whenever I had a dog or puppies to sell, it never

MY DOGS AND OTHERS 249

was particularly easy even to give them away. I
sold a flat-coated bitch puppy — the pick of a litter —
for five shillings to a man who soon afterwards was
offered four pounds for her. Another one I sold,
at ten weeks old, for three pounds to a man who
kept her for six weeks, and gave her back to me,
with a new collar, chain, and kennel, on his removal
to town. I thought I would keep her myself, and
began to teach her to walk to heel, to retrieve,
and to lie down and stay at any spot. One day a
sportsman with whom I had been doing a little
shooting had a look at my dogs, and asked me
if I had one to sell. I showed him the puppy,
then five months old ; told him all I knew about
her, and that she ought to be worth five pounds.
' Oh, I'll give you that for her/ he said, before
I had time to tell him how much less I would
take. So I got altogether eight pounds for her,
and a new collar, chain, and kennel into the
bargain. Her purchaser told me a couple of
years afterwards what a treasure she had turned
out, and that he had refused an offer of twenty
pounds for her. The brother of this bitch I
intended to have kept permanently myself, but
when he was trained I found that his mother
would be able to manage the work, the breeding
season for partridges having turned out bad. He
was far too good to be put to general-purpose
work. A friend offered me ten pounds for him,

250 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

and half the amount he fetched above that sum
after deducting expenses, if I would take the dog
to a London auction sale. There was present a
man who had bought a brace of the dog's blood
brothers and sisters, and he bought him for twenty
guineas — the top price of sixty odd animals. I
felt anything but calm standing on that raised plat-
form with my dog, especially when the auctioneer
repeated, ' Nineteen guineas I'm bid,' and made
ready his hammer.

Another time, a man had agreed to buy a ten-
weeks-old retriever puppy for fifty shillings. The
day before I was to send the puppy off I washed
him, and gave him to an under- keeper to take
for a run. Before going indoors to have his
dinner, the man tied the puppy to a hurdle-fence.
When he came out the puppy was hanging dead
the other side. In tying a dog to a fence of any
sort there is always a risk of his hanging himself.
I went to see a keeper, hoping to buy from him.
one of two little black spaniels which I heard he
had left out of a litter. I asked the price, and he
said he did not think a pound too much for the
two. I agreed with him, and went home with
the two puppies and sixpence left in my pocket.
The same day I met another keeper, to whom I
sold one of them for the same price as I gave for
it. Not long afterwards he told me it had fetched
ten guineas. I gave a middle-aged retriever that

MY DOGS AND OTHERS 251

I had been asked to destroy to a man who owed
me a sovereign (lent to him for a fortnight). He
sold the dog for six pounds, but never paid me
my pound.

During my last game-keeping season I took a
terrier to help make up for lack of beaters at a small
shoot. She had a wonderful nose, and would pull
up setter-like when going at full speed if she winded
game. At lunch -time I saw one of the guns fondling
her ; he asked me casually if I wanted to sell her,
and I said no. ' I'd give you a piece of paper for
her,' he added. The end of it was that I agreed to
let him have her so soon as I could spare her, for
she was acting the part of spaniel on formal occa-
sions. I bought her for a crown, on the strength
of her looks, from an indoor man-servant who had
been ordered to get rid of her, because she was
unclean in the house and useless at rats. The first
time I took her out she killed three good-sized
young stoats, and ever afterwards was game for
anything, and indoors, beyond reproach. There is
no better dog for killing game over than a terrier,
if only one can get it under control, which is not
easy.

Years ago I was the lucky owner of two little
smooth-haired fox-terriers, which were a great deal
more obedient than modern children — as sensible as
human beings, and useful beyond compare. Ah,
what little pictures they were, and how true ! You

252 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

could take these little dogs among any quantity of
game, and they would not give the least trouble ;
yet when ordered, they were unsurpassed for rousing
game. The shortest and softest whistle they would
heed instantly, and never would dream of chasing
or starting to chase without orders. I remember
urging one of them on when I thought a rat was
moving in the bottom of a hedge ; the little dog
made a rush, but stopped to command when within
a foot of a tiny leveret. How many dogs would
have done that — how many terriers ? Both these
little dogs would tell you better than a ferret
whether there was anything in a burrow. They
would steal swiftly but silently from hole to hole,
suddenly to halt, uplift a paw, and look round, with
a wistful, winking expression, as much as to say,
* Here we are ! Don't make a row.' And then they
would come away — no raving, barking, tearing, and
spoiling all chance of bolting. They never offered
to meddle with a ferret. Once one of them was
waiting near a rabbit-hole, and a ferret sprang out
and bit it on the nose ; even then there was no
breach of the peace. However well- broken a dog
is to ferrets, it cannot be blamed for acting in self-
defence when attacked by a ferret ; so train your
dogs always to make way for ferrets.

Both these little terriers would stand ready at the
side of any hole you wished them ; and, though every
muscle of their little bodies might be shivering with

MY DOGS AND OTHERS 253

excitement, always would wait till rabbit or rat
bolted, and then freeze on to it in a twinkling.
One of them grabbed a strong old buck rabbit by a
hind foot as he moved from under some bushes,
and hung on till, after a long tour of the wood, the
rabbit was worked back to me. From burrows
with fair-sized holes these little dogs would bolt
rabbits or drag them out ; and they were demons
on rats, which they would follow unerringly through
a maze of holes. One of them put in nine and a
half hours at a badger. It was the prettiest sight
imaginable to see one of these little terriers trotting
proudly along by the side of an old retriever, and
helping to bring me a rabbit. The little thing
always had a look which seemed to say, * We've got
it, you see.' Both little terriers met with accidental,
but, I am glad to say, instantaneous death, during
the work at which they were such gems — tragedies
of a grub-axe and a spade. The men responsible
loved them, but not as I did. Never should I have
thought it possible for dogs so to creep into one's
heart ; and maybe because I so loved them I lost
them. Often in the sweet quiet of night I have
lingered by those little grassy graves (over which
now as I write daffodils will be making ready their
golden trumpets), thinking of those two little dogs,
once so full of the suppleness of life — so sharp, so
shapely, and so sweet — now gone irrevocably to the
dust and nothingness of death.

254 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

I had a Clumber bitch which I had trained to
retrieve feather only. I have seen a wounded hare
actually run over her, and have used her as a stop
in a ride between two guns at a rabbit shoot, with-
out her moving an inch. I took her away from
home to a shooting-party, walking up partridges.
When the keeper saw her he asked me if I had a
lead. I told him I had, but not with me. ' Because/
he added, ' we shall find a nice few rabbits lying out.'
It was a treat to see that Clumber work. The
value of an anti-rabbit training was well proved, for
rabbits were sitting all over the place, especially in
the sanfoin fields, in which most of the partridges
were shot. Often while searching for a bird she
would start three or four rabbits. All the notice
she took of them was to pause for a second or so to
watch their fate. I lost her not many months after-
wards from distemper — curiously enough, just when
I was congratulating myself on her miraculous
recovery. She had it first in the ordinary gastric
form, which developed into the pneumonic, and
there seemed no hope ; however, after a tremendous
struggle with death she pulled through the pneu-
monia. She got so well that, instead of my having
to pour down her throat a mixture of new-laid eggs,
milk, and port wine, she would eat hard dog-biscuits,
and on my approach would jump on to the top of
her kennel and wag her tail in the old way. Then,
to my intense surprise and grief, she suddenly was

MY DOGS AND OTHERS 255

smitten with the cerebral form and ... ' Beauty '
was her name, and a beauty she was. I had several
other Clumbers, but never another ' Beauty.'

It is curious how dogs, individually, become ac-
complished in special ways that perhaps they never
could be taught. The first time I took my Clumber,
1 Beauty,' to a covert shoot she distinguished herself
by pinching a boy's nose. I laid some dead pheasants
on a ride, and the boy stooped to pick up one, when
' Beauty ' sprang at his face in the most business-
like manner. Ever afterwards, if she had seen me
lay down game, she would allow no one to touch it ;
beaters, stops, loaders, guns — all were the same to
her. Again, one of my terriers, when scratching
after a rat, always knew instantly if the rat had
bolted, seen or unseen — I suppose, by some fine
discrimination in the scent. This would be a
difficult thing to teach a dog. Another terrier
nothing would induce to stay at a burrow if a ferret
or another dog were operating on the holes ; she
preferred to keep watch in the main run leading
from the burrow. From the first she took to this
plan of her own accord. My favourite retriever,
whose name was ' Floss/ was an expert at ratting ;
it never made any difference to her mouth. Of
course, I did not enter her to rats until she had
arrived at years of discretion. She was handicapped
by her size ; but where space permitted, the way
she would sweep up the largest rat was worth

256 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

seeing — no shaking, or snarling, or worrying — just
a floundering rush, and the rat's tail and snout
would be seen on either side of her great jaws.
More than once I have known this old dog to
swallow a moderate-sized rat alive, taking it coming
to her much as a trout takes a fly — plop !

I had a rough-haired fox-terrier, who always was
ready to make friends with anyone ; but whenever
I was waiting out of sight to see who passed a
certain way, she would give a low, indescribably
surly growl, as a timely hint for me to be on the
lookout. A retriever of ordinary working ability,
if I had my gun, and showed signs of being in
pursuit of game, would scratch at my gaiters when
she saw game that she thought I did not. And
she was able to tell not only whether a hare had
been hit or not, but whether it had been hit
enough to render its capture possible. If I shot
at a hare, and felt certain that I must have hit
it, no urging in the world would make her try
for it if she thought otherwise. On the other
hand, nothing short of physical restraint would
stop her from giving chase to a hare that ap-
parently was untouched, if she thought differently.
She seemed to be able to tell the state of a
wounded hare after taking its line for a few
yards. For if she went on, she never came
back without her hare. By the way, when you
have a dog that will persist in chasing ground

MY DOGS AND OTHERS 257

game, or running in to shot, it is a good plan
to slip one of its fore-feet through its loosened
collar.

There was a sheep-dog, between whom and one
of my terriers there had sprung up a fierce enmity,
without any further cause than that the terrier had
caught the sheep-dog prowling round' my cottage.
At any rate, the terrier never afterwards lost a
chance of going for that sheep-dog, except when
there was common cause against a rat. So soon
as the rat was settled the truce ended. Hound
puppies also were the special prey of this terrier ;
and a full-grown puppy that she nipped by the
leg as it fled through some iron railings that
surrounded the premises had good reason to
remember her. In fact, none of my terriers had
much affection for hound puppies ; nor had I.

It is natural that dogs that work together should
become friends. Yet the most marked friendship
among the many dogs that passed through my
hands was between a rough-haired terrier and a
Labrador retriever, which never did a stroke of work
together. They seemed to take to each other from
the first time they met ; because, I think, each
possessed an extraordinary love of play. These
two would play together in the most entertaining
manner, it mattered not how many other dogs
were present. In case of need, the retriever very
soon would come to the rescue of her little pal.

17

258 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

For many years I had a goose which practically
was one of my dogs ; she lived with them day
and night, and beat them all as a watch-dog.
She would take possession of a vacant kennel,
and when she wanted to sit, would collect as
substitutes for eggs half a bushel or so of bones
that the dogs had done with — great big marrow-
bones were the ones she preferred. The goose
never would come farther than just outside the
gate, if I were taking dogs with me on a round.
But whenever I loosed the whole pack for a frolic
in the field adjoining my cottage, unless she were
sitting on her precious bones, she would come
flying with her great wings and quacking furiously.
She would alight in the midst of the rabble, follow
the dogs as they tore about and rolled each other
over, sometimes almost on top of her, and waddle
or fly after them back to their kennels. She took
meals with the dogs, and always was first to signal
the coming of biscuits.

My favourite retriever was a dog of a lifetime.
I had her from a little puppy ten weeks old. After
her first two seasons, I used her for everything, even
to catching rabbits in a harvest-field ; and there was
not much that was useful at which she did not
excel. I believe she was even keener on sport
than myself. Provided I were not present, she
would go with anyone she knew well- — if he had
a gun or an iron bar (which meant ratting). She

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MY DOGS AND OTHERS 259

was very jealous, and would not go with me if I
had other dogs (and no gun), merely for the sake of
exercise. Once, when I was laid up with influenza,
someone let her loose ; she came full speed through
the open door of my room, and landed on the bed
right on top of me. She and a spaniel at the
house did many a good day's work together : grew
old and deaf together, and died almost together on
Good Friday, 1908. Far into the night I had
watched by my old friend as she lay dying. Often
I thought the end of her faithful life had come ;
then, as I turned to leave, she would open an
eyelid, and speak again to me with that wonderful
brown eye that even to the end told of her devoted
love. And then would come a moan of pain, and,
I hoped, unconsciousness. It was a gloriously fine,
cool night — one of those nights when one can hear
the wail of peewits as a fox passes over a far-off
fallow. My wife and my child were away. I was
alone with my old dog ; and death was trying hard
to thrust its sting between us. The moaning
became more frequent. How could I end it all
with the murderous violence of a gun ? Happy
thought — there was laudanum in a cupboard ; I
fetched it and gave it to her in increasing doses,
till I had used an ounce. She slept. The next
morning she was — better ; yes, decidedly better.
Dared I hope? At breakfast-time I received a
written message that the old spaniel, her comrade,

17—2

260 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

was to be shot ; he was in good health, but had
become objectionable indoors. I had to leave my
old dog while I arranged his passing. So much
better was she that as I moved to leave her she
raised her head, and looked at me, as much as
to say, ' I can't come with you ; come back soon/
But in death they were not divided, for when I
returned she, too, was dead.

Once, some years before, I thought this old dog
had gone suddenly mad. She was kennelled for
the time being in a shed, to which I went to release
her. No sooner had I undone her chain than she
rushed past me, and tore all over the place, howling.
I called her by name, but she took not the slightest
notice, and continued to rush about, howling and
barking and showing her teeth in the most alarming
manner. I was thinking how best to get at my gun
before she did any damage, when quite suddenly
she recovered her senses. How glad I felt that I
had not my gun with me when I unchained her !
This is what had happened — whenever she heard
me coming she would start wagging her tail
energetically, and on this occasion she had set
rolling half a paraffin barrel, which was in her shed.
The iron-bound edge of the barrel had nipped her
tail, causing c funny-bone ' pain. This I proved by
feeling her all over till I touched the spot. The
mysterious part of the affair was that she was per-
fectly all right while I was in the act of releasing

MY DOGS AND OTHERS 261

her. This, I think, is to be explained in two ways :
either her delight at the prospect of going out with
me caused her to forget the pain for the time being,
or by mere coincidence it so happened that I
released her during the few seconds of numbness
preceding the sensation of maddening pain.

I never shot a dog, dead, unless by request. To
take so drastic a step with a local dog is seldom the
best policy, while to shoot a dog that perhaps never
may come that way again is not worth the almost
certain risk of a row. I admit that I have found it
a hard matter to refrain from shooting a good many
dogs. More than one keeper has misjudged an
attempt merely to sting up a dog. Once I thought I
was well into a scrape. I was with another man in one
of my woods making the final preparations for a shoot.
All the morning we heard two dogs having a rare
innings in somebody else's wood a couple of fields
distant. It was not my place to interfere with them
there ; nor, in view of my coming shoot, was it
diplomatic to do so. All I hoped was that they
would not adjourn to my wood. However, follow-
ing a lull in the duet in my neighbour's wood, my
mate and I were roused to fury by hearing the
brutes break out in my covert. I went to fetch my
gun, which had been left with other tackle, and
slipped round to watch a broad ride. Just as I came
to the top of it the two brutes crossed about sixty
yards down. I let them have it broadside. They

262 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

turned and fled away down the ride, and I emptied
a third cartridge at an opportune moment, so that
there should be no jealousy. We watched those
two dogs clear right out of the wood, with their tails
very much between their legs, towards a big dell of
mine on the boundary. While this dell was being
driven in, just before my shoot began, my mate
came across a dead dog, and some of the beaters
saw it, too. From their description there was little
doubt that it was one of the dogs 1 had stung up a
few days before — a big collie, sheep-dog-goodness-
knows- what-else brute. You may be sure that after
the shoot I lost no time in going to have a look for
myself. There was not much doubt that it was one
of my brace. There was a close-range shot-wound
in its brain, which gave me a double feeling of
relief.

I heard a great deal more than pleased me about
a dog which was found dead, with a swollen head
and neck, in a ditch next a fence of wire-netting
which marked the boundary between my ground
and another keeper's. This dog had been a great
nuisance to me, and I had complained about it
more than once. To deny to his owner that I had
a hand in the dog's death was useless, so I told him
that I ought to have dealt with the dog years before,
adding that it rested with him to prove that I had
done so now. The true cause of the brute's death
was a collision with a single strand of wire, and that

MY DOGS AND OTHERS 263

would not have happened unless he had been
poaching. Once when I had occasion to visit a
strange keeper, and he was showing me round his
premises, I saw a huge bundle of dog-collars — enough,
I should say, to fill a half-bushel basket. I asked if
he had recently given up a large kennel of dogs.
' No,' he said, * only I always takes the collar off
them as I shoots ; but there, most on 'em ain't got
ne'er 'n.' A boy brought me a dog that had been a
horrible nuisance to me for years, with a request
that I would shoot it. I happened to know that the
people who owned the dog were going away, and I
sent back a message with the dog that they might
have got rid of the dog long ago to oblige me, and
I certainly would not shoot it now to oblige them.
The most pathetic request in the dog-shooting line
came from an old shepherd who was past work.
He led his old dog on a chain to my cottage ; he
explained that he * couldn't abear to see the old
feller go shart o' vittals,' and asked me to ' take and
shoot un out o' the way.' I promised him that an
under-keeper should see to it.

Coming across some sportsmen who were walking
for partridges, and had with them a good-looking
spaniel, I inquired how they were getting on.
' Pretty well — plenty of birds,' one of them replied ;
' but the dog won't kill 'em after we've shot 'ern
down.' I hoped he would improve, and walked
quickly away. The funniest doggy incident I ever

264 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

witnessed came about in this way. A sportsman
turned up at a shooting-party in a suit of so startling
a shade and pattern that I had to speak seriously to
the beaters about repressing their mirth. By lunch-
time we had got a bit used to the suit, but, apparently,
one of the dogs had not. The sportsman in the
suit sat down on the gnarled roots of a tree, and
addressed himself to this dog. I regret to say that
the dog did not receive his advances in an apprecia-
tive manner, but walked on, and, as he passed,
grossly insulted the resplendent back of the
sportsman.

There should be better legislation for penalizing
the owners of trespassing dogs. Year after year no
end of damage is done to game interests simply for
the amusement of trespassing dogs. A dog of any
value very seldom is allowed to trespass ; and to
my mind the mere fact that a dog frequently is
trespassing is good evidence that it is neither valued
nor valuable. Half the dogs that exist are an
intolerable nuisance, not only to the community, but
to their owners, and are worth no more than the
price of inferior cat's-meat. I maintain that the
owner should be warned on the first occasion that a
dog trespasses ; substantially fined, with the option
of having it destroyed, on the second ; and that on
a third offence by the same dog it should be liable
to be summarily shot.

CHAPTER XVII

TIPS AND TIPPERS

The custom of tipping — On being tipped — Tipping- time — Touting
for tips — Generous tippers — Average bag of tips — Tricks of
tippers — Exceptional tips — My last tip.

THE custom of tipping the gamekeeper may be
likened unto a footpath which, by existence from
immemorial time, has come to be a recognized
thing. The keeper, I think, can claim that the
practice of tipping members of his craft is as old-
established as any other sort of tipping. He argues,
on the analogy of the footpath, that would-be tippers,
and keepers who would be tipped, are justified by
right of user. At any rate, tips for so long have
formed part of the keeper's income that they are
recognized as part of his wages. If tipping the
keeper were to be prohibited by law, a rise in his
wages would be the rational result. Including his
tips, the gamekeeper, in view of what is required
of him, is by no means overpaid. The day of
the ' no scholard ' is done. Nowadays, to be a
successful keeper, a man must be fairly well educated.
He must be of smart address, and on shooting-days,

265

266 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

at least, of smart appearance, and smart in every
way. This the ordinary wage does not allow.
Tips must make up the deficiency. A keeper seek-
ing a fresh berth is awkwardly fixed. He cannot
very well ask his prospective employer about the
tipping propensities of his friends. I think it would
be an excellent plan if keepers, on leaving a berth,
confessed to their late employer the average annual
total of their tips ; then, when the new man is being
engaged, he could be given a precise idea of the
combined value of his emoluments.

At first I think I felt more sheepish over the
reception of a tip than anything else connected with
the craft of game-keeping. Hitherto I had been
accustomed to regard the handling of coin at
shooting-parties solely from the point of view of
the giver. To receive cash was so absolutely
strange to me, it seemed a putting of the cart
before the horse with a vengeance. But where
there's a will there's a way, and, as I had not
become a keeper merely for fun, I always found
a way for what cash came to hand. After a little
experience, I was able to receive a tip in as graceful
a style as any man. I never could bring myself to
be obsequious in the matter of tips ; rather would
I have foregone them all. I made it a rule to say,
'Thank you, sir,' in the same tone — intended to
convey courteous gratitude — whether the gift were
a sovereign or half-crown, or the giver a lord or

TIPS AND TIPPERS 267

a commoner. On more than one occasion I made
objection to the taking of a tip which I thought
the giver could not well afford.

Probably I lost many a tip because I did not run
after it, so to speak. This is the keeper's position :
The last shot has been fired ; the day is done.
Some of the beaters, laden with game, trudge home-
ward, or to the game-cart ; others hurry to the
' house ' with cartridge - bags, their hurry being
more in expectation of a shilling or two than for
fear that the bag should be left behind. But the
keeper, just now, is busy with the game, checking
it, and trying to lessen the confusion which everyone
else appears to be doing his best to increase. Should
the keeper leave his responsible duties, and sidle
his way to the sportsmen, with some excuse as to
whether Mr. So-and-so's gun is to be packed for
an evening train, or where are to be deposited the
hare and brace of birds for somebody else ? — often
most unnecessary inquiries, but apt to sound like
hints for a tip. Or should he keep himself in the
background, risk a scramble later on for gun-cases
and game, and allow chances of tips to vanish ?
For there are sportsmen who think mainly of their
own pleasure and comfort, though not unmindful of
the keeper whilst he is before them. They are not
necessarily mean men, grudging or unwilling, but —
forgetful.

To secure a tip, some keepers use every artifice

268 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

they can think of short of direct appeal. For
instance, it sounds dreadfully out of tune for a
keeper to tell a sportsman that the birds he has
just put up for him are 'all just about fine young
un's.' Often I have moved away to prevent the
impression that I was waiting to be tipped, and
perhaps have lost many a tip by so doing. I
regard a tip as a present pure and simple, not a
tax — a convenient medium by which a sportsman
may prove his appreciation of the skill a keeper
has shown in producing sport proportionate to the
resources at his disposal. I have met several good
sportsmen who would spare no pains to seek out
the keeper, and, not finding him, would go to con-
siderable trouble to leave or send him a tip. Here
is a sample note which gave me more satisfaction

than the enclosure : ' Captain encloses a postal

order for 75. 6d. in appreciation of a pleasant day,
and would be glad to know what was the total bag.'
I am afraid that I have long since cashed the order
and given my wife the proceeds, or it might have
been reproduced with the note.

The most generous tippers are successful business
men, stockbrokers, officers of the Services, and
solid country magnates. There are, of course, rich
noblemen and others who combine generosity with
wealth, but they are not meat for the ordinary
gamekeeper. Prosperous stockbrokers and men
of business, who do not get too much time for

TIPS AND TIPPERS 269

shooting, are the heaviest gilders of the keeper's
palm. They shoot to enjoy themselves, and to
make other people happy. Perhaps they do not
care to weight themselves with cumbersome silver
coins, and find it less trouble to carry gold pieces.
Then there are those dear old gentlemen of the
old school. They do not shoot every day of the
week, and, not being so active or so keen of vision
as they were, perhaps do not pile up the bag as
fast as others. Yet they give regularly a tip of
half a sovereign. Their fathers ever gave it, why
should not they ? And the keeper murmurs ap-
provingly, ' So be it.' The parson never forgets
the keeper, and his cheery words are as welcome
as his modest ' five bob.' The worst sportsman
from the tipping point of view is the ordinary
country resident who is fairly well lined with this
world's goods. He gets so much shooting — being
on the spot and always available as a stop- gap —
that he becomes surfeited. He shoots only when
he has nothing else to do. From him the keeper
is lucky to get an occasional half-crown.

He is a fortunate keeper who 'picks up' a
sovereign at the close of an ordinary day's shooting.
Tip totals for the day vary, like offertories ; they
depend on who is there. So far as I can remember,
I can count on the fingers of one hand the occasions
on which I received a sovereign from one shooter,
for one day only. A keeper told me he made his

270 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

record bag of tips (thirty pounds) after a shoot
at which royalty was present. Another said he
took from four to six pounds every week, from
September to February, for several seasons, which
was very nice indeed while it lasted. At his other
places his tips did not keep him in beer and baccy.
I should say that ten pounds is about the sum
received in tips by an ordinary gamekeeper in a
season. A good many long for so much — vainly.
Once I enjoyed the distinction of driving partridges
over the head of a reputed millionaire ; and he
could hit 'em, too. He tipped me a couple of half-
sovereigns, and complimented me on my show of
birds.

The first tip that came my way was remarkable
for its size, being a five-shilling piece, as I have said
in a preceding chapter. I have a special recollection
of the first occasion on which I took gold. I had
been helping a neighbouring keeper. One of the
guns told me he would be shooting with us on the
following day, and wanted to know how best he
might be saved bother about his gun and cartridges.
I volunteered to take them home with me and bring
them along to the meeting-place the next morning.
Well, we had a good day, at the end of which, to
my intense surprise, he slipped half a sovereign into
my hand ; and so soon as I got the chance I tied it
into a corner of my handkerchief, and spent it on
boots.

TIPS AND TIPPERS 271

The greatest shock I ever had in the matter of a
tip came about in this way. My partridge-shooting
had been let, and my services were included in the
deal. There were, as a rule, only four guns, and
they had earned a reputation for not forgetting
those who ministered to their pleasure. However,
one morning there turned up a fifth, or, as I heard
the beaters describing him among themselves, an
* oddun.' He was a young man, probably not
more than twenty-five, of impecunious appearance
generally ; his gun was rusty, and looked as if it
had been bought at an ironmonger's sale, while his
shabby little cartridge-bag I do not suppose could
have been pawned for more than a penny. Such
was the impression given by himself and his be-
longings that I failed to find among the beaters a
volunteer to carry his bag and the score of cartridges
it contained. Finally, a neighbouring keeper who
was helping me took it as a personal favour to
myself. When the day was done, this keeper came
to me and said he thought the owner of the bag
had made a mistake, and produced half a sovereign,
meant, as he thought, for me. I told him he had
better hang on to it, whether the two shillings
slipped into my hand as I was wrestling with the
buckle of a gun-case were a mistake or not.
Fishing them from my pocket, I found they were
two sovereigns.

By way of contrast, after a fine day's partridge-

272 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

driving, a man who had a wife and a motor (but
evidently had to cut things pretty fine to run them
both) handed me three shillings, saying, ' It is very
good fun.' I never discovered whether this remark
referred to the wife and motor, the size of the tip, or
the partridge-driving. Another sportsman invited
me to have a drink, as I thought, from his flask,
which was cleared for action. I said, ' No, thank
you, sir/ but quickly discovered that he meant a
tip. Another man would name the value of his tip :
' A nice day — six shillings.' One of my brothers
was at a shooting-party where I was keeper.
Before we started I handed him a sovereign with
which to tip me ; but at the end of the day off went
my brother, and my precious sovereign went with
him. On two occasions at Christmas I received a
cheque for five pounds from employers, one of
whom wrote : ' I have been very pleased with the
energetic, reliable way you have managed the shoot-
ing, and I enclose a cheque for ^5, with my best
wishes for a happy Christmas.'

The meanest method of tipping that ever I heard
of — indeed, I should think, that human ingenuity
could devise — was on this wise : Two young men,
sons of rich parents, shot many days on a first-rate
shoot without giving the keeper even so much as a
' Thank you.' On Christmas Eve — when, if there
are any tokens of goodwill and tips to be bestowed
on keepers they are usually on the generous side—

TIPS AND TIPPERS 273

the proud mother of these twain called at the head-
keeper's cottage, sent in her servant for him, and
held forth as follows : ' Brown, you have shown the
young gentlemen much good sport. I wish to give
you a useful present to mark our appreciation.' It
is well here to note that the good lady intended to
brook no refusal, for she said ' give ' and not * offer/
She must also have intended to convey that the
present was the result of combined contributions,
for she said ' our/ and not ' my.' The present turned
out to be a money-box, in the form of an elephant
with a slit in its back. You have seen the sort of
thing — price sixpence-halfpenny, to be had even
cheaper at sale-time. It was empty. The smallest
tip I have known a keeper to receive was threepence
—in coppers, not even new. The most original tip
consisted of five threepenny-pieces, and came from
a parson. It is said that the keeper, remembering
that there were five Sundays in the month, remarked
that they must be for the ' horfeetory.'

Occasionally I have found the taking of tips
rather awkward, though, of course, never a matter
of insuperable difficulty — for instance, when I have
had a gun under each arm, and each hand already
full of big silver coins. This is apt to occur when
the guns approach in a mass, like driven partridges
in a pack ; when they come in a string it is easy to
deal with any amount of tips without being rushed.
There are three reasons why a keeper should unload

18

274 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

at least one hand of a tip before the reception of
another. Firstly, it is embarrassing for men of
unequal means to see each other's coins ; secondly,
the keeper naturally likes to keep each sportsman's
tip separate ; and, thirdly, a keeper's hands may not
be big enough to hold more than a certain amount
of coins, especially large silver coins, and he may
drop some, which is a breach of etiquette. I have
heard it said of a one-armed keeper that at no time
did he feel the want of two hands so acutely as
when two shooters wished to tip him at the same
time.

Once I thought I had lost a whole crop of tips
after a very good day. Everything I had done was
quite the reverse of deserving such a thing. The
guns walked off without so much as one of them
saying ' Good-night,' or wanting to know what the
bag was, or even where was a cartridge-bag. I
thought they must have hatched a strike against
tipping. I felt a bit hurt, till, after I had had some
tea, my wife produced a double handful of coins,
and explained how, while she was feeding her
chickens, the guns had come past, and had caused
her to stand at the receipt of custom. After many
years of experience, I became so expert at handling
tips that I could tell their value by sense of touch ;
when I failed was when I mistook half a sovereign
for sixpence, or a pound for a shilling. Once or
twice it was the other way on.

TIPS AND TIPPERS 275

A tipping incident which tickled me greatly came
about in this way. The day before a shoot, an
article by me (under a pen-name) had been published
in a daily paper. One of my guns was at most
unnecessary pains to expound to me the views
and so on set forth in the article, and wanted to
send me a copy of it. I told him I thought I
could borrow it quite easily. The majority of
keepers, being staunchly conservative, do not like
the contribution-box plan as applied to tips. It
savours too much of charity — a help-the-poor-keeper
sort of arrangement. On the other hand, they
appreciate the modern method of placing the guns,
by numbers drawn by lot, for it removes all
suspicion of favouring the heaviest tippers.

My last tip was six shillings, in florins. The
day was January 29, 1909. I have the coins safely
wrapped up and labelled, and shall keep them —
at any rate, I shall try to — so that some day I may
have them mounted on velvet as memorials of
those game-keeping days of old.

18— 2

CHAPTER XVIII

ODDS AND ENDS

High-grade nobility— The elusiveness of cartridge-bags— Rabbits as
medicine — Shooting accidents — Lady shooters — What is a
' reared ' pheasant ?— Are keepers good shots ?— A cat and a
rabbit — A keeper's feat — A very popular fallacy — Keepers and
poison — Artfulness of rabbits — Ferrets — Mammoth nests — Moles
and nests — Wild honey — A reward — ' Coom to daddy !'

THERE was always a difficulty in addressing lordly
persons, and I am afraid I never properly mastered
the correct compromise between the devotional and
barristerial 'my lord/ I called my first marquis
'sir,' after giving myself a special course of training
in saying ' m' lord.' However, I dare say he
appreciated it by way of a change. Another
incident of my contact with high-grade nobility
was when I met a lord on his own estate and
mistook him for his keeper ; he was going about
with his breeches unbuttoned below the knee and
no gaiters. At a cub-hunting meet I got into
conversation with a duke, thinking that he was a
farmer.

It was at a millionaire's partridge-drive that I
witnessed a terrible shooting fiasco. It was the

276

ODDS AND ENDS 277

first day, on some rented ground. There were
six guns and six loaders, keepers and beaters
innumerable, a pack of retrievers, several game
and lunch vans, and, of course, motors. I do not
think more than about twenty-five partridges came
in sight of the guns all day. Never did I get so
tired of a day, which mercifully was abandoned
before the usual time. The only part I enjoyed
was the lunch, of which there were three grades —
the guns', the keepers' and loaders', and the beaters'.
So excellent were the chicken, ham, and jelly-coated
cutlets that I am ashamed to say I practically dis-
pensed with bread.

Valets supply the very essence of shooting blase-
ness, and some of them are remarkable for a
wealth and facility of thunder and lightning speech.
Phonograph records of some of the conversations
between valets and keepers in the gun-room of a
large country-house would be quite enough to
make their employers' hair stand on end. Keepers
always are glad when a sportsman arrives in charge
of a valet — if only for the fact that a valet prevents
the escape of cartridge-bags. I have known the
elusiveness of cartridge- bags to be the cause of
no end of bother. It all falls on the shoulders
of the keeper — why, I never could imagine. Often
a keeper has not even heard of a man before, to
say nothing of his cartridge-bag. A man once
complained to me of the loss of his cartridge-bags,

278 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

saying that they had started on a journey in charge
of his wife. I did not know his wife — even by
sight ; and I felt like telling him that I had
heard of wives wearing the trousers, but never
cartridge-bags. Cartridge-bags always should be
attached to a gun-case or magazine, and not treated
as miscellaneous baggage. There are plenty of men
who will spend gold on the purchase of their
cartridge -bags, yet, apparently, begrudge the few
pence to have their names (not merely their initials)
put on them plainly. Any cartridge-bag with a
narrow strap or webbing ought to be carried by
the owner.

To carry about two or three hundred cartridges
is not the lightest of occupations. Still, the weight
of cartridges never gave me much trouble, especially
when there was a fair prospect of their being shot
off, preferably on my own beat. Yet the sling of
a cartridge-bag, where it pressed, always produced
a pain like a cross between sciatica and toothache,
even after carrying for an hour or two a bag with
only fifty cartridges in it. The pain would remain
for hours after the cause had been removed. I
found it a good plan to stuff my handkerchief
over the spot, beneath my coat,

A keeper must command respect, but avoid
familiarity. It is always a good sign when one
hears a keeper spoken of as * Mr. So-and-so ' by
labourers, though his employer may be merely
1 Old So-and-so.' A link of friendliness between

ODDS AND ENDS 279

the keeper and the labouring community does for
the good of game what the most energetic keeper
cannot do by himself. For the keeper personally
to make ' kind inquiries ' at a labourer's cottage
where there is sickness never does any harm,
especially if a visiting-card in the shape of a rabbit
is left behind. Whether a caller is a keeper or not,
the wife of a sick labourer loves to describe all the
morbid details of the case : anything to do with
spattered blood she is certain to glory in elaborating.
When the kind inquirer happens to be the keeper,
she is equally certain, sooner or later, to work round
to the question of rabbits as medicine. For instance,
after this fashion : * There, he haven't eat ne'er a
marsel o' food this two days ; 'e don't sim to fancy
nothin', 'cept when I tell'd un jest now 'e would die
o' starvation, 'e did sorter mutter summat about the
leg of a rabbut.' Then is the time for the keeper
to have in his pocket a rabbit that he does not
want to carry any farther. Only once have I
known a rabbit not to be thankfully received. One
Saturday evening, in the summer, I met an old man
on his way home from work, to whom 1 knew a
rabbit was a treat. Producing a black one I had
just shot, I handed it to him with a kindly meant
remark about his Sunday's dinner. Much to my
surprise, he declared it was the devil, and refused
even to touch it. He accepted a brown one which
had shared my pocket with the devil, and went on
his way rejoicing.

280 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

It is a marvel that there are not more shooting
accidents. The great objection to a careless man
with a gun is that he is far more likely to shoot
somebody else than himself. I have seen two
people escape by inches what must have been
fatal accidents. But ought one to say 'accident7?
for in each instance it was nothing but sheer
carelessness : the shooters, carrying a hammerless
gun under the arm, could not take the trouble
to look what they were doing, but felt for the
safety-bolt, and pushed a trigger instead. When
a shooter is turning round, it is a golden rule not
to have a finger on the trigger, no matter how
safely the muzzle may be pointing. A foot may
trip in a bramble or against a stub, and — down
comes the muzzle to the level of men's heads
and hearts. And off goes the gun. By paying
ten shillings anyone is entitled to carry and use
a gun. Ought there not to be some regulation
demanding proof that each individual understands
the safe handling of a gun before he or she is
granted a licence ? I never had to deal with a
lady shooter, and I hope I never shall.

What is the definition of a ' reared ' pheasant ?
In these days, when there is so much letting of
shooting, it is important that the term ' reared '
should have some definite meaning. There is a
very great difference between reared pheasants and
pheasants that are being reared. A representation

ODDS AND ENDS 281

by a lessor of shooting that ' I have reared a
thousand pheasants,' or ' I will rear a thousand
pheasants/ is not at all the same as ' I am rearing
a thousand pheasants,' which he might reasonably
hold to mean, ' I am trying to rear a thousand
pheasants.' Therefore, I think, if a man says, ' I
have reared so many pheasants,' or ' I will rear so
many,' it may be assumed that he undertakes to
supply so many pheasants of not less than five
weeks old, when they are fit to be turned into
covert, and are practically safe from losses by
disease. Given so many pheasants turned into
covert at not less than five weeks old, how many
is it reasonable to expect to kill ? I should say
three-quarters, unless the shoot has unusually
detractive features, such as bad coverts near the
boundary (beyond which are good coverts with
every attraction), no stock of wild birds, and few
rabbits, much vermin, and many foxes. It is not
unusual in fair circumstances to account for the
same number, or even more than the same number,
of birds as were turned into covert. Generally
speaking, an ordinary stock of wild birds may be
relied upon to cancel ordinary losses among hand-
reared birds ; but it is impossible to lay down any
hard and fast rule applicable to all sorts and con-
ditions of shoots. The circumstances of no two
shoots are precisely the same. To account for
five hundred pheasants out of a thousand may be

282 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

as much a feather in the eap of one keeper as the
bagging of the thousand by another. Keepers are
not given to exaggerating the number of birds turned
into covert ; it would be cutting their own throats.

No keeper appreciates bad guns, unless he is
anxious to spare his stock. Keepers, as a class, are
not what some people are pleased to call 'dead
shots.' Now and then I have met one who was
very good indeed so far as his experience went, but
the majority of keepers would be useless if set to
deal with driven birds. The head-keeper on one of
the largest estates in Hampshire was a dreadfully
bad shot ; he was so bad that he was obliged to
trap or snare, or otherwise poach, the greater part
of the game which he was supposed to shoot for his
employer's larder. After a time it began to be
noised abroad by the ladies of the kitchen that shot-
marks seldom were to be found on the game. This,
of course, did not help the keeper to shoot any
better ; but to protect himself he hit on the plan of
blazing at each head of game after he had trapped
it. Another keeper was a still worse shot, but he
openly confessed that though he had tried hard for
many long years, he had succeeded in hitting only-
one object while it was moving — a rook — when he
wasn't trying. I have made my share of misses,
but, curiously enough, I do not remember ever to
have missed a poaching cat, and I have shot at —
well, several.

NEST AND EGGS OF LANDRAIL. IT IS A MARVEL HOW SO

SMALL A BIRD MANAGED TO COVER IO EGGS, EACH ABOUT

THE SIZE OF A PARTRIDGE'S EGG.

THE OWNER OF THE ABOVE NEST. THE ONLY LANDRAIL I EVER BAGGED
WITH A CAMERA (HELD IN THE HAND).

ODDS AND ENDS 283

In the matter of poaching cats nothing was to be
gained by letting one barrel know what the other
had shot. One summer evening I was making my
way along a cart-way between one of my woods
and the high wall of the garden belonging to the
1 big house/ Facing a double door in the wall was
a ride through the wood, and just as I got opposite
the ride a non-local cat began to cross it about
thirty yards up. I bowled the cat over, and went
up the ride to remove it. Just as I reached the
spot where the cat lay I heard someone opening the
garden door. The head-gardener appeared about
a fifth of a second after I had chucked the cat into
the stuff and fished from my pocket a nice young
rabbit, which, luckily, I had shot that evening half a
mile away. I strolled down the ride towards the
gardener, legging the rabbit on my way. Having
remarked, as I smoothed the fur of its back with
the blade of my knife, that it was a fine * young un '
for the time of year, I asked him to save me the
trouble of carrying it home. I disposed of the cat
later on.

A very old keeper friend, who seldom missed
a walked-up bird, performed the following feat.
Having to get some birds, he set out with an old
pointer for a large turnip-field. He fired at thirteen
single birds in succession, winged them all, and his
pointer gathered them all. The largest proportion
of runners I ever saw manufactured was ten out

284 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

of fourteen birds dropped by two guns one hot
September afternoon. There was not an atom of
scent, but, trying again at sundown, my old dog got
them all.

There is a very popular fallacy that a keeper may
help himself to what game he likes. By right of
custom he may have rabbits and pigeons for his
own use only, and not to sell for his own profit
(unless by agreement). As to game in the ordinary
sense, I should say he has no more right to it than
a gardener to grapes, or a carter to oats. I have
been asked for game (presumably free of middle-
man's profit) by people who gave me to understand
that they would ' satisfy ' me. And a lady wrote
to me : ' Mrs. So-and-so wishes,' etc. I replied :
' Mr. Jones presents his compliments to Mrs. So-
and-so, and wishes to inform her that he is a game-
keeper, and not a game-dealer.' I do not suppose
one member of the public in ten thousand knows
that neither a gamekeeper nor his employer may
sell game to anyone but a licensed dealer. Con-
sidering the ease with which keepers can help
themselves to game, and the smallness of the risk
of detection, their honesty, collectively, is much to
their credit. I would suggest to employers that
they should think of the keeper when game is being
given away. A present of an occasional (not too
occasional) brace of birds or a hare is the best way
of telling the keeper that his integrity is appreciated.

ODDS AND ENDS 285

There is only one risk in giving the keeper game —
that he will reproduce it in the next day's bag ; but
the trick may be excused, since he thereby denies
himself a good dinner, to flatter the game-book. If
a keeper is given no game, he is apt to infer that he
is credited with helping himself; perhaps that he is
supposed to help himself. One keeper, fearing that
he might entirely forget the taste of game, made so
bold as to ask for a brace of pheasants. ' Whatever
do you want them for ?' he was asked ; and answered,
4 To eat.'

Reluctance to use poison is another point to the
credit of keepers. They feel that it is not playing
the game ; they love to know that they have out-
witted the cunning of vermin ; and so, apart from
other considerations, keepers prefer the exercise of
the true spirit of woodcraft, unsullied by exclusion
of the sporting chance. Of course, where rats are
numerous, it seldom is possible to deal with them
by trapping and so forth only. An old keeper, who
scorned the use of poison where trap and gun would
serve, told me of a poisoning venture in the days of
his youth. His beat was about seven thousand
acres, in a district where carrion crows and magpies
were so numerous that, in spite of devoting most of
his time to trapping and shooting them, he seemed
to make no impression on their numbers. He had
been given a powder called ' hog's-bean/ and though
he told me it could be got in the form of a bean, 1

286 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

think he must have meant hog's-bane or henbane.
At any rate, he skinned three rabbits, scored their
flesh, which he dusted with the powder, and tied
the carcasses high up in three trees in a little covert
away out on the Hampshire downs. When he
returned the next day nothing but the skeletons of
the rabbits remained ; and he actually picked up no
fewer than forty-seven crows and magpies beneath
the first rabbit-baited tree. I do not deny that a
few keepers may abuse the use of poison, but I
know that many an innocent keeper has been
blamed for the death of cats and dogs, which
evidently had ' picked up something.' Cottagers
use poison-paste on bread and butter for mice with
as little compunction as blacking for boots. Once
a lady met me in a lonely lane, and tackled me in the
most aggressive way about her cat. I told her it
was news to me that she had a cat, denied that I
had anything to do with its end, and expressed a
polite regret. As she clung to her cocksure attitude,
I suggested that for two guineas the kind of poison
that had finished her cat might be ascertained. I
could have put her on the track of her own gardener,
who, I knew, was losing sweet-peas by mice in-
numerable. No decent keeper ever dreams of
interfering with cats that don't poach.

It is a mistake to suppose that there are no
rabbits in a wood because none can be got by
ferreting. Wiring, trapping, and ferreting are all

ODDS AND ENDS 287

very well when the object is merely to kill off some
of many rabbits ; but the gun in good hands will
account for a hundred rabbits in a day in woods in
which the best men might ferret all day for a couple.
Burrows may appear used, but rabbits soon get too
artful to lie in them. When it has been proved
that there are no rabbits in a wood, above or below
ground, every yard of hedgerow and field should be
searched. It is astonishing, when the rabbits of a
wood have been thoroughly persecuted, how far out
in the fields they will go, and in what curious places
they will hide themselves. The inside of a farm-
roller is a very likely place for a rabbit to sit ; once
I found one under the name-plate of an iron harrow
in the middle of a large bare field. Another time
when we were cleaning up the rabbits, I was crossing
a field of rough grass, when up jumped a rabbit,
and I bowled it over. Just as I was picking it up,
up jumped another, and I served it the same.
When I was picking up the second, up jumped a
third, and I got it too. Well, naturally, I thought
there must be several more, so I set to work and
did every inch of that thirty-acre field — without
finding another rabbit. I appreciate a fast rabbit
running across me at about fifty yards as much as
any shot. A most murderous shot at rabbits was
brought off by a farmer ; watching his opportunity
towards the finish of a field of corn, he blazed down
a furrow, and killed nine.

288 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

Ferrets are not at all profitable creatures to breed
for sale ; and it is cheaper to buy grown-up young
ferrets in September for half a crown each than to
breed and rear them. If you want ferrets to be
pleasant to use, the great thing is to handle them
frequently and quietly — never grab at them. I
judged their handling education complete when my
ferrets showed no objection to being picked up by
the skin of their stomach. The most docile of
ferrets are liable to nip you by mistake, but never
hang on. The best and quickest way to make a
vicious-biting ferret leave go its hold is to roll its
toes as one would a cigarette, only harder. Another
plan which answers well enough in the case of a
dead rabbit is to blow on the ferret's nose. The
risk of distemper breaking out among dogs is con-
siderably lessened by keeping ferrets right away
from them.

From ferret-hutches to the Law Courts is a long
way. I had been engaged to give expert evidence
in an action for misrepresentation by the tenant of a
large shoot. The plaintiff's solicitor, a complete
stranger to me, while giving me a brief outline of
the case, mentioned that he had a cutting of an
article on the clues that help a gamekeeper, which,
he thought, might help us. Being the writer of it, I
thought so, too. I was introduced to another keeper
engaged for the case ; he was the most benevolent-
looking keeper I have met. He had a way of

ODDS AND ENDS 289

adding, when speaking of a place, ' If you know
where that is.' Cross-examined by an eminent
K.C., he said he came ' from near Shrewsbury —
if you know where that is.' Counsel confessed that
he ' seemed to remember the name.'

I slipped five odd eggs into a partridge nest in
which, apparently, there were about a dozen eggs —
the next time I came that way there were forty-
three. What a good thing it is that two partridges
very rarely lay in one nest ! There were fifty-three
eggs in a wonderful co-operative nest — pheasants',
fowls', English and French partridges', guinea-fowls',
and turkeys'. A partridge, as a rule, is ready enough
to forsake her nest if her eggs are removed ; but I
knew one partridge that not only persisted in laying
in the nest from which I had removed her first three
eggs, but also after I had destroyed the nest with
my boot. So I covered the spot with a flint as big
as a dinner-plate ; and she laid at the side of the
stone.

A keeper acquaintance told me of another per-
severing partridge : her nest was found, when there
were only a few eggs in it, at the side of a quiet ride
much used by the keepers going to and from the
rearing-field. Any odd partridge eggs were placed
in this nest. Twice the nest and eggs were upset
by the burrowing of a mole, and twice a keeper
made up a fresh nest for the eggs, which finally
numbered forty-four. In spite of the interference of

19

2go TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

moles and men, the partridge stuck to her task, and.
to the surprise of several people, hatched a mammoth
brood. I have had many a good nest ruined by a
mole, especially in dry weather ; I suppose the soil
beneath the nest remains comparatively moist, and
so is easier to burrow in, and more likely to contain
food.

There must be hundredweights of honey stored
away in the dark caverns of old stumps and in hollow
trees — storehouses where truant bees have garnered
the sweet essence of myriads of flowers, and year
after year, generation after generation, have added
to their unsuspected treasure. A bricklayer who
kept bees went into a wood to pick some nuts ; he
returned, and took sixty odd pounds of honey from
an old oak-stump, within a few yards of the road.
When we were rabbiting, my mate and I went over
practically every yard of the woods, and we found it
paid to examine every stump. The most honey we
ever found in one stump was twenty-seven pounds ;
but most years we got a useful supply — sharing the
honey, and my mate having the wax for straining
the honey. Whether it was our fancy I cannot say,
but we never would admit that the flavour of any
honey equalled that of the wild, from the woods.

Once I gained a reward for recovering a lost dog.
It was a beautiful black spaniel ; part of her history
never will be known, but here is the skeleton of it
for three months. She was being sent by train — I

ODDS AND ENDS 291

forget where — at any rate, she had to change at a
station where it seems she was tied up on the plat-
form by a chain, her collar being as usual. She
became frightened, slipped her collar, and away she
went. Three months afterwards, knowing nothing
about the spaniel, I was passing along a hedge with
a spirited retriever, that was just getting useful.
Suddenly there was a commotion in the hedge, out
of which on the other side rushed a black spaniel.
I caught sight of a trap on its near fore-paw, and
gave chase. How, in the circumstances, that spaniel
managed to run as she did I do not know, but she
soon got a field ahead of me. So I set my retriever
after her. Finally, after a run of about a mile with-
out a check, we ran her to ground in a farmyard.
She was very hostile ; but I held her with a two-
tined prong, fastened a cord round her neck, and
removed the trap from her paw. From that
moment she was as quiet as possible, and seemed
pleased to allow me to carry her home, where I
bathed her foot, and gave her milk and a soft bed.
I never found out where she got into the trap, which
evidently had been on her paw for some days. I
felt certain she was the same dog I had seen un-
attended in a field about six weeks before, as I was
cycling.

I went to the police-station to make inquiries.
The superintendent looked down the list of lost
dogs, and said there was none answering to the

19 — 2

292 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

description of the spaniel. Then he referred to a
book of old records ; and there was the spaniel I
had found — * £i Reward.' The superintendent
told me the spaniel had been lost for three
months, and had been seen nine miles from where
I found her. An old house-steward came to fetch
her, and paid me the pound. It was worth a pound
to see that old Scotchman take the little dog in
his arms and say, again and again, * Coom to
daddy !' I understood that a claim for damages
against the railway company failed, because it was
obvious that the dog's collar had been fastened too
loosely (a point worth attention when sending dogs
by rail). Once a year I cycled past the house
where the old fellow was employed, about fifteen
miles distant, and he begged me to call and see
him and the little black spaniel (which lost a toe
through the trap). It was a lovely old place —
enough to say that the lawn was bounded on
one side by a trout-stream. I called again a
year after : it was on a Sunday. ' Daddy ' had
been buried on the Saturday.

CHAPTER XIX

JOYS AND SORROWS

The sweetness of success — Keepers judged by their bags — Nesting —
Feast-days — Illness — Unusual sights — The keeper as honorary
executioner — A comparison.

THE feeling of success is a sweeter joy than a
handful of tips. An old keeper had devoted his
life to the improvement of his partridge-shooting ;
good bags had been made frequently — for instance,
nine hundred brace in three days. Then came a
day of more than five hundred brace. The next
morning his employer asked, ' Well, H., were you
satisfied with yesterday ?' The keeper answered,
1 Yes, m'lord.' ' So was I,' said his lordship.

Unfortunately, most keepers are judged by their
bags, so they cannot be blamed for putting bag
before sport. ' What sort of a day did you have at
So-and-so ?' is a frequent question among shooters.
And nine times out of ten the answer is not,
1 Most enjoyable ; plenty of sporting shooting,' but
rather, ' Oh, not much of a day ; we only got
about fifty pheasants and a few other things.'
And nine times out of ten a shooter tips according

293

294 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

to the bag. And a tip is supposed to represent
his appreciation of the day's sport. I was present,
in the capacity of loader, at a shoot at which three
hundred pheasants were bagged. The birds (hand-
reared) were beaten to the centres of some pretty
coverts. Scores ran across the rides almost between
one's legs, and the rest just flopped up and down.
There was much exultation at the finish. I was
asked how I would enjoy a day like that, and
answered, ' Not much as a beater, and still less
as a gun.'

Nesting was the work which I enjoyed most
of all. The townsman meeting a keeper strolling
about in search of eggs on a May morning may
be excused his envy of the keeper's lot. If all
his days were as the sweetest of May, with the
birds always singing, the pheasants crowing their
challenge, the turtle-doves and wood-pigeons cooing,
the rich carpets of flowers spreading incense, and
those olive eggs in plenty to be found — fair indeed
would be the keeper's lot. But those calm days
when life is so good are not best for the safety
of eggs, which then are seen easier than in the
dull days of blustering wind and restless herbage.
Keepers speak of the hunt for eggs as 'nesting'
or ' egging,' and more often of ' looking ' than of
searching a hedgerow or covert. Nests are not
found by mere searching, but by a gift of knowing
intuitively where and how to look ; nor does one

JOYS AND SORROWS 295

look for eggs direct, but for those signs which
tell tales of a nest. A man who has the gift
of nesting time after time will appear to come
straight to a nest, apparently by luck ; whereas
almost unconsciously he has noted the spot where,
if there is not a nest, there ought to be one.

Pheasant nests are much easier to find than
partridge nests. A pheasant seldom covers up her
eggs, a partridge almost always does so. To pry
beneath that suspicious hollow in the dead leaves of
a hedge-side is a speculation of which I never tired,
any more than of that enchanting perfume of stubble,
turnips, clover-heads, and partridges. It was our
custom, when we went a-nesting in a party, not to
smoke till the first egg was found ; then the finder
had the honour of standing a fill of the pipe all
round.

The help given a keeper by his employer on
shooting - days makes all the difference. Few
keepers are blest with an employer who really
understands both the art of shooting game and of
bringing it to the gun. Better by far is it for the
smooth and successful working of a day that an
employer should understand nothing of manage-
ment and know it, than that, knowing a little, he
should act without understanding. The man who
knows nothing, but follows instructions implicitly,
is a treasure to his keeper. I call to mind a remark
of a man who knew more about the silk trade than

296 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

shooting. On the first of September he would say
to his keeper, ' I have been your master for the last
seven months ; now you must be mine.'

For growls and grumbles and prodigious feasts of
appetite, a keepers' and earth-stoppers' feast would
take a deal of beating. The atmosphere reeks of
foxes and pheasants, and beer and baccy. A certain
keeper was notorious for the justice which he did to
the feast. After eating an amazing quantity of all
sorts of roast and boiled meat, potatoes, greens,
haricot beans, dried peas, plum-pudding, cucumber,
and cheese, he would say, ' Now let's have a radish
just to top up with,' and then would think nothing
of clearing a whole dish of the most prosperous-
looking roots. This reminds me of a stopping-
feast incident concerning an old fellow who was a
sort of cross between a shepherd and a keeper, and
wore very loud corduroy trousers on Sundays and
feast-days. The dinner was over, and the usual
speeches and health-drinkings were well under
way, when the old chap, who had far to walk,
stood up and said to the chairman, c I thinks it be
time you an' me kiss'd and said good-bye.'

One of the greatest sorrows that can overtake a
keeper is to be prevented by illness from being
present at an important shoot. This happened to
me only once, when I was knocked off my legs by
influenza the evening before a ' combined ' partridge
drive ; so it did not matter so much as it might

JOYS AND SORROWS 297

have. And, luckily for my peace of mind, by the
next morning I was too ' rough ' to think of partridge
driving or anything else. I discovered in a rather
curious way that I was in the grip of jaundice. For
some days I had felt a little bit out of tune internally.
I went some miles to fetch a setty pheasant's nest,
and, having tightened my belt, placed the eggs
inside my shirt next the skin of my lower bosom, so
to speak. I had a very miserable walk home, for
the slight pressure of the eggs increased the discord
within me. However, I was not going to risk
chilling the eggs. I reached home, put the eggs
safely beneath a hen — and very soon collapsed. I
do not want to have jaundice again, if only for the
fact that it entails an exclusive diet of milk and soda.
I had about twenty-five hens sitting on the first
batch of pheasant eggs. Fortunately, I was able
to get an old keeper to come and lift them on and
off to feed ; and before they hatched I had got up
steam again. Another spring I had a dose of
mumps, when I was over thirty. I do not want
any more. I had a cold about twice in three years,
and always a chest circumference four inches greater
than that of my waist. I hope it may be so always.
During the last few years I seldom was entirely free
from sciatica and lumbago, which occasionally would
have a field-day at my expense. Since the day I
left game-keeping I have not had so much as a growl
from either.

298 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

A white or pied pheasant is a joy to a keeper ; it
is not merely a thing of interest and beauty, but a
means by which the behaviour of the other pheasants
can be judged. When a conspicuous pheasant
strays far and wide, but returns to the home wood,
then the keeper knows that the rest of his wander-
ing birds return. Experience leads me to believe
that a special appeal is not always the best way of
saving a white pheasant on shooting-days. Rooks
have a decided liking for a white pheasant chick on
the rearing -field. An employer who suffers from
chronic anti-rabbit fever scarcely can be considered
a joy, and is apt to get on his keeper's nerves.
Once I became so saturated with a decree that
every rabbit should die that I forgot myself when I
was loading at a shooting-party. I was looking for
a partridge, when up jumped a rabbit, and I bowled
him over before the eyes of the whole party — a
gross breach of etiquette.

I do not suppose many people have seen a mole
in the act of gathering material for its nest. I was
making my way through the stuff, and happened to
stop to listen to a warning ' cock-up ' of a distant
pheasant, when I heard a rustling quite near me.
I thought it must be a mouse, and waited in the
hope of seeing it. Another rustle, and I saw a dead
oak-leaf move. I sank on to my knees, and crawled
to the spot. Within a yard of my face I saw the
pinky snout of a mole ; never was more than the

JOYS AND SORROWS 299

snout and head of the creature to be seen : its body
remained in one of those shallow surface-runs.
With amazing swiftness the snout felt all round, and
each dry leaf within reach would be grabbed and
drawn under ; in about ten seconds the mole would
return. When there were no more leaves within
reach of one opening, the mole would thrust through
the surface in a fresh place, and continue its leaf-
gathering with incredible energy. I have crept
beneath a wood-pigeon in a little tree, and at a
distance of a few feet have watched it perform its
toilet and scratch its head. And I have watched a
hare come out of a wood and roll cat-fashion on a
dusty cart-way. I saw soil flying from a hole some
distance down a ride, crept quietly up, and caught a
busy rabbit by a hind-leg. Again, I was standing
waiting with my gun for an assistant to walk
through a beat for rabbits, when a woodcock flew
towards me, and pitched within ten feet. For
fully five minutes its eye was fixed on mine.
Neither of us dared to breathe naturally. Suddenly
it shot itself from the ground over the hazel-stems
and was gone ; never have I seen anything fly so
fast as that woodcock. Had I tried, I do not think
I could have shot it. Curiously enough, just before
the woodcock came, a rabbit had crept to the mouth
of its burrow, twitched its nostrils, and retreated.

Why should a keeper be considered a sort of
honorary executioner, at the beck and call of every-

300 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

one ? I shrank from shooting horses with the
utmost loathing ; yet I more or less had to shoot a
good many. I always had a horror of a weak cart-
ridge, or that the poor brute might jerk its head at
the moment I pulled the trigger. Still, I would
sooner shoot a horse myself than be compelled to
watch someone else do it. Such repulsive jobs
(they cannot be called duties) brought in nothing ;
the only occasion on which I was offered a fee was
when a man begged me to shoot a cat. He wanted
to tie the cat to a post near a saucer of milk ; I
could not stand that. I consented to oblige him if
he would make the cat run its fastest, which he did,
and offered me twopence ; and because I refused to
take it, he, being a baker, sent me a twopenny cake.
I had to shoot one donkey, and that on a winter
evening by the light of a very indifferent bicycle-
lamp. Several things were a greater source of joy
than the gralloching of rabbits ; the aroma is so
clinging.

The great quiet woods, the wide fields, the
hedgerows, the dells, and the hills — these were the
sweetest joys of the life, and as different from the
foul discord of a town as heaven must be from hell.

CHAPTER XX

CONCLUSION

Long shots—Callousness— Vermin the salt of the keeper's life —
Game-keeping as a road to fortune.

THE firing of long shots is a detestable feature of
modern shooting. And good shots, I am afraid,
are liable to be worse offenders than others. I was
speaking on this subject to the head-keeper on a
famous shooting estate ; with a shrug of his shoulders,
he said, ' They all does it.' The abundance of game
and the far from dead craze for big bags at present-
day shooting-parties are indirectly the cause of an
appalling callousness to the sufferings of dumb
creatures. I am no believer in ultra-humanitarian
ideas, but I do protest against that wantonly wilful
callousness which besmirches a great sport.

The place above all I should like to go to as a
keeper would be over-run with all sorts of vermin.
I should enjoy myself far better than on ready-
made ground where game teemed. And I dare say
there are scores of keepers who would enjoy a good
season at vermin as a change from a surfeit of game.
Vermin supply the salt of a gamekeeper's life.

301

302 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

Game-keeping is by no means a short-cut to
fortune. People are apt to think that because a
keeper may eat free rabbits, most of his bobs-a-week
are clear profit. But even a keeper cannot live on
rabbits and fresh air alone, to say nothing of his wife
and the usual little keepers. There are, of course,
1 plummy ' keepering berths. But the ordinary
keeper does all that honest income will allow if he
manages to maintain a wife and family respectably,
pay into a club, and have a glass of beer for supper.
I began at fifteen shillings a week, and ended at
twenty-two ; in addition, I had a free cottage and
garden, four tons of coal, and some small firewood,
and one suit of clothes each year ; and probably I
averaged rather under than over ten pounds yearly
in tips, with perhaps fifty shillings in hunting fees.
Many keepers nowadays lose their berths through
no fault of their own, owing to so much shooting
being let and frequently changing hands. Lucky
indeed is the keeper who can save enough to retire
on ; and to retire means, as a rule, to take a public-
house.

Depend upon it, there is nothing like an experience
as a working keeper to give a man an appetite and
rheumatism.

INDEX

ACCIDENTS, shooting, 280
Advertisements of keepers seek-
ing berths, 6

Bags, keepers judged by, 293
Beaters, 214, 217, 218, 221 ; as
critics of shooting, 222 ; beer
and, 228 ; bets of, 221 ; cater-
ing for, 226, 227 ; poachers
as, 219; sneaking game, 219,
220 ; strikes of, 223, 224, 225
supper, 231 ; varieties of, 215,
216, 230

Boar-hound, a Canadian, 232
Brother-in-law, a famous, 14

Cartridge-bags, 33, 277, 278
Cartridges, * my,' 7
Cats, 3, 283, 286
Clumber, a beauty, 254, 255
Crane, bagging of a, 17
Cubs, to dig out a litter of, 19

Dells, three, 12
Details, importance of, 7
Dogs, 247, 248, 250; feats of,
283, 284 ; feuds of, 257 ;
found dead, 262 ; friendships
between, 257 ; mad, 260 ;
poaching and trespassing,
261 ; sales of, 249 ; stories of,

263, 264, 290; useful, 256;

ways of, 258 ; wild, 248
Doves, their food, 154
Drives, blank, 42

Eggs, weak-germed, 40
Egg-poachers, 236, 240
Egg-stealers, human, 20
Egg-stealing, 234 ; instances of,
236, 237 ; by gipsies, 238

Feeding partridges, 42

Ferrets, 16, 288

Finger-trick, the, 5

Foxes, 19, 167 ; a keeper's
eccentric custom with, 167,
1 68 ; and cock pheasants,
178; and a laconic keeper,
173 ; and partridges, 45, 174,
175; and rabbits, 177; and
shooting interests, 169, 170,
171 ; and uncouth sounds,
1 78 ; damage to game by,
169; fallacies concerning, 178,
179; are vegetarians, 178

Gamekeeper, tipping the, 265
1 Game-keeping as a road to for-
tune, 302 ; first attempt at, 4
Gipsies, 20, 21, 22
Greens, a shower of, 162

303

304

TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

Grouse, advantages over part-
ridges, 43
Guns, meeting the, 32

Hares, 133 ; and holes, 140 ;

damage by, 136, 137, 138;

disease of, 135 ; need quiet,

J35 5 two caught in one snare,

242 ; value of, 134
Hare-shooting, 141, 142
Hawks, hoaxed by, 98 ; kestrels

and sparrow-hawks, 96, 97
Head-carter, a celebrated, 1 1
Head-keeper, responsibility of, 6
Hedgehogs, 99, 100
Honey, wild, 290
Horses, shooting, 300
Hospitality, a farmer's reverence

for, 10
Hunting and shooting, and

labourers, 181

Jackdaws, 80

Jaundice and pheasant's eggs,

297
Jays, 101 ; best bait for, 103 ;

check increase of pigeons,

103 ; cunning of, 102

Keepers as * dead shots,' 282 ;
and diplomacy, 203, 204;
and game to eat, 284, 285 ;
and pheasants, 107 ; and
poison, 285 ; and * refresh-
ment,' 210; as honorary exe-
cutioners, 300 ; a very popu-
lar fallacy concerning, 284 ;
remarks on, 198, 199 ; diction
of, 201 ; exaggerating, 212 ;
keenness of, 207, 208 ; old,

200; pessimistic, 213; sen-
sitiveness of, 208, 209; sports-
manship of, 206, 207 ; stock
phrases of, 200, 205 ; the bag
and tips, 128 ; various, 2, 52,
196-198, 202

Labourer, a cunning old, 239

Magpies, 16, 101
Mole, 289, 298
Mouse, 27
Muzzle-loaders, a pair of, 3

Nesting, 294, 295
Nests, 289

Nobility, my contact with high-
grade, 276

Ordeal by fire, an, 6
Owls, 103-105

Partridge coverts, 43

Partridge-driving, 64 ; a fiasco,
70 ; importance of guns being
close enough together, 66, 67 ;
long waits during, 69 ; my
hobby, 66 ; on big shoots and
on small, compared, 65 ; sig-
nals to start, 71 ; under diffi-
culties, 69

Partridge ground, general run

of> 39

Partridge netters, 28
Partridge-pudding, test of the,

26
Partridge-shooting, September,

52 ; some stories of, 61
Partridges, 36, 51 ; and farmers,

49 ; and roots, 73 ; and tres-

INDEX

305

passing dogs, 48 ; cheapness
of, 48; correct estimate of
their numbers, 25 ; damage
by, 50 ; destruction of nests
of, 43 ; elusiveness of, 55, 56 ;
fairyland of, 39 ; feeding, 42 ;
French, 42 ; habit of, 73 ; in
pheasant coverts, 42 ; nesting
sites of, 44, 46 ; only fault of,
49 ; scarcity of, 38 ; the most
attractive game-birds, 37 ; the
fewer the better they lie, 57 ;
tired and the bag, 75 ; to
insure finding your, 42 ; walk-
ing up, 53 ; wildness of, 53 ;
winter food of, 41

Pheasants, 107, 113, 122, 126,
128 ; advantages of, 109 ; and
foxes, 112; as mothers, no
in, 112; in small and in
large coverts, 124; propor-
tion that should be killed, 281 ;
straying, 125 ; their eggs and
frost, 113; theory of hatch-
ing, 119, 120, 121 ; what is a
'reared' pheasant? 280; why
preferred to partridges, 108 ;
wild-bred, 114; wild versus
hand-reared, 122, 123, 124

Pheasant-rearing, 6, 115-118

Pheasant-shooting, bad guns,
127 ; in thick laurels, 125 ;
in foggy weather, 131, 132;
my first day, 125; notes on,
129, 130, 131

Poachers, 27 ; dead, 28 ; and
policy, 246 ; attacked by, 2 ;
excuses of, 245 ; instances of,
244; sly, 245; trespassers and,
232 ; two with one trap, 19

Poison, keepers and, 285
Primrose-pickers, 233
Punctures, two original, 13

Rabbits, 139, 279 ; a murderous
shot at, 286 ; and rats, 138 ;
as medicine, 279 ; complaints
concerning, 50 ; keeping down
the, 286, 287 ; on partridge-
ground, 17; orders to get
down the, 12 ; seven shot in
succession, 14

Rabbit ' pudd'n,' several rounds
of, 13

Rabbit-shooters, 192

Rabbit-shooting incidents, 142,
143, 144, 145

Rabbit-snarers, 140

Rakings, 41

Rats, 76; in corn-ricks, 16 ;
poisoning, 77, 78, 79

Retriever and rats, 255, 256 ;
a young, 32 ; my favourite,
255 ; death of my old, 259 ;
Labrador, a, 257

Reward for lost dog, 290, 291,
292

Rooks, 40, 76, 79-86

Rye-grass, 33

September, saluting, 29

Shepherds, 31, 241

Shooters and their cartridges,
187 ; and their guns, 189,
190 ; etiquette of, 194 ; false
economy of, 190; fidgety, 194 ;
greedy, 187, 188 ; in weird
raiment, 190, 191 ; late, 185 ;
mixed bag of, 182, 183, 184,
185; perfumed, 188; who
20

TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING

jump to conclusions, 193,

194
Shooting accidents, 280 ; cats,

282, 283 ; dogs, 261 ; horses,

300 ; parties, mimic, 3
Shots, firing of long, 301
Snares and snarers, 242, 243,

244

Snipe, the, 37

Sportsmen, 17, 30, 53

Stoats, 86-89, 9°5 91 ; and eggs,
95 ; and ferrets, 91 ; and rats,
94 ; and weasels, 17 ; difficult
to shoot, 92 ; food of, 93

Stopping-feast, incidents of, 296

Stops, importance of, 222 ;
women as, 222, 223

Terriers, 251, 252, 253

Tip, hint for a, 267, 268; my

first, 34, 270 ; my last, 275 ;

my record, 271 ; reception of

a, 266, 273 ; totals, 269
Tips, assorted, 271, 272, 273 ;

average yearly bag of, 302 ;

gone astray, 274; what are

they compared to success?

126

Tipping, 265, 267-269
Trespassers, 232
Trick, the finger, 5

Trigger, hauling at the, 15
Towering, 58

Town compared to country, 300
Town-life, 4

Valets, 277

Vermin and preservation, 105,
1 06 ; salt of gamekeeper's
life, 301 ; sport with, 76

Wild-fowl, 165, 1 66

Wires, 'slippin' down,' 10

Woodcock, 3, 37, 299

Wood-pigeons, 147 ; digestive
powers of, 161 ; extraordinary
food of, 157, 158; family shots
at, 164; feeding on greens,
161 ; gluttony of, 162; sport
with, 148; various, 153, 159,
163

Wood - pigeon shooting and
thunder, 156; at roosting-
time, 159, 1 60 ; curious, 149 ;
general hints on, 148 ; in
foggy weather, 162, 163 ; near
ripening corn, 149, 150, 151,
I52> X53 5 near water, 156,
157

Youngster, ' a right down fine,'
12

THE END

BILLING AND SONS, LTD., PRINTERS, GUILDFORD

Telegrams : 41 and 43 Maddox Street,

1 Scholarly, London.' Bond Street, London, W.,

November •, 1908

Mr. Edward Arnold's

List of New Books.

THE REMINISCENCES OF
LADY RANDOLPH CHURCHILL.

By Mrs. GEORGE CORN WALLIS -WEST.

Second Impression.
Demy 8vo. With Portraits. 155. net.

The title of this delightful book gains point from its contents.
Mrs. George Cornwallis-West is unable to bring her recollections
down to the immediate present, and so she brings them to a close
when she ceased to be Lady Randolph Churchill. But that was only
a few years ago, and it is doubtful whether any volume of reminis-
cences of Society has ever described the life of the interesting and
distinguished people so close to our own day.

Lady Randolph Churchill's earliest experiences were in Paris
during the last gay days of the Empire and the horrors of the
Franco-German War. Then came her marriage and introduction to
all that was best and highest in English Society. In 1876 Lord and
Lady Randolph accompanied the Duke of Marlborough to Dublin,
and her account of life at the Viceregal Court is full of entertain-
ment. Then come recollections of political society in London, of the
formation of the Primrose League, and anecdotes of well-known
politicians, such as Mr. Balfour, Sir William Harcourt, Mr.
Chamberlain, and others.

Lady Randolph visited the Royal Family both at Windsor and
at Sandringham : she has also many interesting glimpses to give
of Continental Society, including an audience of the Czar in Russia,
Court functions at Berlin, a dinner-party with Bismarck, a friendship
with General Boulanger. Such are some of the varied items that
catch the eye as one turns over the pages. They are samples from
a mine of well-chosen topics, handled with tact, courage and grace.

LONDON : EDWARD ARNOLD, 41 & 43 MADDOX STREET, W.

2 Mr. Edward Arnold's List of New Books

EIGHTEEN YEARS IN UGANDA
AND EAST AFRICA.

By the Right Rev. ALFRED R. TUCKER, D.D., LL.D.,

BISHOP OF UGANDA.

With 60 Full-page Illustrations from the Author's Sketches, several of them
in Colour, and a Map. In Two Volumes. Demy 8vo. 305, net.

This is a book of absorbing interest from various points of view,
religious, political and adventurous. It will appeal to the Churchman
and the philanthropist as a wonderful record of that missionary work,
of which Mr. Winston Churchill has recently said :

' There is no spot under the British Flag, perhaps in the whole
world, where missionary enterprise can be pointed to with more
conviction and satisfaction as to its marvellous and beneficent
results than in the kingdom of Uganda.'

It will interest the politician as a chapter of Empire-building, in
which the author himself has played no small part. Lastly, it will
delight all those who travel or who love reading about travel. The
Bishop describes his wanderings, mostly afoot, through nearly 22,000
miles of tropical Africa. He tells of the strange tribes among whom
he dwells, of the glories of the great lakes and the Mountains of the
Moon. He tells of them not only with the pen, but also with pencil
and brush, which he uses with masterly skill.

ON SAFARI.

3f8i0*(5ame t>untfn0 In aBcftisb Bast Africa, witb Studies in
By ABEL CHAPMAN, F.Z.S.,

AUTHOR OF 'WILD NORWAY,' ' BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS,' 'WILD SPAIN,' ETC.

With 170 Illustrations by the AUTHOR and E. CALDWELL. Demy 8vo.

1 6s. net.

The author of this fascinating book is a well-known ornithologist,
as well as a mighty hunter and traveller. He takes us ' on safari '
(i.e., on trek) through a new African region — a creation of yesterday,
Imperially speaking, since British East Africa only sprang into
existence during the current decade, on the opening of the Uganda
Railway. ' The new Colony,' he says, * six times greater in area
than the Mother Island, is an Imperial asset of as yet unmeasured
possibilities, consisting, to-day, largely of virgin hunting grounds, un-
surpassed on earth for the variety of their wild fauna, yet all but un-
known save to a handful of pioneers and big-game hunters.' Much
knowledge, however, can be acquired through the pages and pictures
of this book, describing, as it does, the vast tropical forests, with
their savage inhabitants and teeming animal life. The numerous
illustrations of African big game, owing to the expert knowledge of
both author and artist, are probably the most accurate that have ever
appeared.

Mr. Edward Arnold's List of New Books 3

OLD AND ODD MEMORIES.

By the Hon. LIONEL A. TOLLEMACHE,

AUTHOR OF ' TALKS WITH MR. GLADSTONE,' ' BENJAMIN JOWETT,' ETC.

Demy Svo. With Portraits. 125. 6d. net.

One of the most brilliant men of his day, only prevented,
probably, by the physical infirmity of near-sightedness, from being
also one of the most prominent, gives us in this volume a collection
of remarkably interesting reminiscences, which extend over half a
century. They include, mostly in anecdotal form, life-like portraits
of the author's father, the first Baron Tollemache (another Coke of
Norfolk, but with more eccentricities), and of Dr. Vaughan of Harrow.
The author's years at Harrow, of which he records his memories,
were from 1850 to 1856, and those at Oxford from 1856 to 1860.
The book contains, besides, a number of characteristic stories, now for
the first time given to the public, of the Duke of Wellington, Lord
Houghton, Lord and Lady Mount Temple, Fitz-James Stephen, to
take but a few names at random from these fascinating pages

IN SEARCH OF A POLAR
CONTINENT.

By ALFRED H. HARRISON, F.R.G.S.

Illustrated from Photographs taken by the Author in the Arctic Regions,
and a Map. Demy Svo. 125. 6d. net.

The white North continues to exert its magnetism upon British
explorers. Mr. Harrison's object was to explore the unknown region
off the North American Coast of the Arctic Ocean, but he first
travelled 1,800 miles by waterway through Northern Canada, till he
arrived at the delta of the Mackenzie River. There he was frozen in
and delayed for three months. He then continued his journey to the
Arctic Ocean with dogs, but was obliged to abandon his supplies.
He hoped to obtain provisions at Herschel Island, but being disap-
pointed in this, he went into the mountains and spent two months
with the Eskimo, whose manners and customs he describes. He
next returned to Herschel Island and made a voyage to Banks Land
in a steam whaler. There, too, the failure of an expected tender to
arrive from San Francisco again defeated his hopes of procuring
supplies. Consequently he once more threw in his lot with the
Eskimo, between the Mackenzie Delta and Liverpool Bay, and spent
a year among them.

Such are the adventures described in this interesting book, the last
chapter of which, explaining the author's plans for resuming his
enterprise, once more illustrates the fact that an Englishman never
knows when he is beaten.

4 Mr. Edward Arnold9 s List of New Books

CHRONICLES OF THE HOUGHTON
FISHING CLUB, 1822-1908.

Edited by the Rt. Hon. Sir HERBERT MAXWELL, Bart.,

AUTHOR OF ' MEMORIES OF THE MONTHS,' ' THE CREEVEY PAPERS,'
' THE STORY OF THE TWEED,' ' BRITISH FRESH-WATER FISHES,' ETC.

With numerous Illustrations, many in Photogravure or on Japanese Vellum,

including facsimile Reproductions from Sketches by Landseer, Chantrey,

Turner, etc. Demy tfo. £2 2S. net. Limited to 350 copies.

This sumptuous volume, which gives the history of one of the
oldest and most famous fishing clubs, on that finest of all English
streams, the Test, forms an unique addition to angling literature.
The effect of angling on literature has always been genial and
discursive, and these delightful Chronicles are no exception to the
rule. They throw much light on the changes which have affected
social habits in general, and the craft of fly-fishing in particular,
during the best part of a century. They contain not only records of
sport, but various contributions — literary and pictorial — to the club
album, made by celebrated members and visitors. These included
Penn's well-known fishing maxims, some portraits by Chantrey, several
sketches by Landseer and Sir Francis Grant, and one precious
drawing from the hand of Turner. In the leisurely old days of mail-
coaches, the members of the club and their guests had more time for
such diversions, when the weather was unfavourable to sport, than
is the case in the present age of telegrams and express trains.

IN OLD CEYLON.

By REGINALD FARRER,

AUTHOR OF ' THE GARDEN OF ASIA.'

With numerous Illustrations. Demy Svo. 125. 6d. net.

The shrines of Oriental romance have once more charmed the pen
of Mr. Reginald Farrer. His book has little concern with modern
Ceylon, its industries and exports. He tells rather of the bygone
glories and sanctities of ancient Lanka, when the island was the seat
of a powerful monarchy and a dominant church. He gladly deserts
the beaten track for the fastnesses of the jungle and the great dead
cities whose bones lie lost in a shoreless ocean of green. Under his
guidance, all those who love contemplation of ' old unhappy things
and battles long ago ' can follow the tale of the Buddhist hierarchy
and the Cingalese monarchy, realizing their ancient glories amid the
ruins where they lie buried, and their final tragedy in the vast jungle
that now for many centuries has engulfed their worldly majesty.

Nor is the interest of the book wholly antiquarian and historic, for
Ceylon — that Eastern Island of Saints — is a vast flowering garden, of
whose blossoms and paradises all votaries of horticulture will delight
to read in Mr. Farrer's pages.

Mr. Edward Arnold's List of New Books 5

THE BOOK OF WINTER SPORTS.

With an Introduction by the Rt. Hon. the EARL OF LYTTON,
and contributions from experts in various branches of sport.

Edited by EDGAR SYERS.
Fully illustrated. Demy &vo. 155. net.

Every winter more and more visitors are attracted to Switzerland,
the Tyrol, and Scandinavia, to take part in the various winter sports
of which this book is the first and only comprehensive account in
English. Each sport is dealt with separately by an expert. Thus,
Mr. and Mrs. Syers write on Skating, Mr. C. Knapp on Tobogganing,
Mr. E. Wroughton on Ski-running, Mr. Bertram Smith on Curling,
Mr. E. Mavrogordato on Bandy, and Mr. Ernest Law on Valsing on
Ice. The various chapters give instructions in practice, rules, records,
and exploits, as well as useful information as to hotels, hours of
sunshine, the size and number of rinks, and competitions open to
visitors at the different centres. The book contains a large number
of original illustrations. It should be indispensable, not only to
experts in the various sports, but to the far larger class of holiday-
makers who engage in them as a pastime.

FIVE MONTHS IN THE HIMALAYAS.

a IRecorD of fountain travel in <3arbwal anfc Iftasbmir*
By A. L. MUMM,

LATE HONORARY SECRETARY OF THE ALPINE CLUB,

Magnificently illustrated with Photogravure Plates and Panoramas t and
a Map. Royal Svo. 2 is. net.

The first and principal portion of this volume contains an account
of a journey through the mountains of Garhwal made by the author
in May, June, and July, 1907, with Major the Hon. C. G. Bruce and
Dr. T. G. Longstaff, whose names are already well known in con-
nexion with Himalayan mountaineering. The tour has considerable
geographical interest, which is enhanced by a magnificent series of
original photographs of scenes never before submitted to the camera,
and it was rendered memorable by the fact that in the course of it
Dr. Longstaff reached the summit of Trisul, 23,415 feet above the
level of the sea, the loftiest peak on the earth's surface whose actual
summit has, beyond all doubt or question, been trodden by man.

Later on, Major Bruce and Mr. Mumm proceeded to Kashmir,
where they climbed Mount Haramukh, whose snowy crest is familiar
to all visitors to l the happy valley ' ; and made a ' high-level route '
down the range of mountains which separates Kashmir from Kagan.
Their photographic spoils were of an interest hardly inferior to those
of the Garhwal journey.

6 Mr. Edward Arnold's List of New Books

PAINTING IN THE FAR EAST.

Bit SntroDuction to tbe Ibistotg of flMctortal 2lrt in Beta, especially
Cbftta an£> Japan.

By LAURENCE BINYON.

With 31 Full-page Illustrations in Collotype from Original Chinese and
Japanese Pictures. One Volume. Crown ^to. 2 is. net.

This important book is a pioneer work in the artistic interpretation
of the East to the West, and in the breaking down of the spiritual
barriers between them. For a basis of study of Eastern art, writes
Mr. Binyon, 'the public at present has nothing but a few general
misconceptions/ He therefore puts forward his volume with the
modest hope that it ' may not be thought too presumptuous an
attempt to survey the achievement and to interpret the aims of
Oriental painting, and to appreciate it from the standpoint of a
European in relation to the rest of the world's art. It is the general
student and lover of painting,' he continues, ' whom I have wished to
interest. My chief concern has been, not to discuss questions of
authorship or of archaeology, but to enquire what aesthetic value and
significance these Eastern paintings have for us in the West.'
Besides its stimulating artistic criticism, the book is full of interesting
glimpses of Eastern history and thought in so far as they have
affected art, as well as of biographical sketches of Eastern painters.

MADAME ELIZABETH DE FRANCE,

1764-1794.

B /Iftemofr.
By the Hon. Mrs. MAXWELL-SCOTT,

AUTHOR OF 'JOAN OF ARC,' ' ABBOTSFORD AND ITS TREASURES,' ETC.

With Coloured Collotype and other Illustrations. Demy Svo. 125. 6d. net.

Among the victims of the French Revolution, perhaps the figure
which excites most sympathy is that of the modest and heroic Princess
whose life is told in this deeply interesting memoir. Madame Eliza-
beth was the sister of Louis XVI. Her life was at first one of calm
and quiet. Her studies, her charities, and her intimate friendships
filled her time until the storm broke over France, and she left her
peaceful Montruil to take her part in the dangers and sufferings of
her family, and to be their consoler in the time of trial. It was not
till the King and Queen had both been executed that Madame
Elizabeth was brought from prison, tried for corresponding with her
brother, and condemned to the guillotine.

The fresh documents lately discovered by M. Lenotre have
enabled the author, who, by the way, is a great-granddaughter of Sir
Walter Scott, to throw much new light on the life of * The Angelic
Princess.'

Mr. Edward Arnold's List of New Books 7

SCOTTISH GARDENS.

By the Right Hon. Sir HERBERT MAXWELL, Bart.
Illustrated in Colour by MARY G. W. WILSON,

MEMBER OF THE SOCIETY OF SCOTTISH ARTISTS.

With 32 Full-page Coloured Plates. Crown 4*0. 2 is, net.

Also an Edition de Luxe, limited to 250 copies, at £2 25. net.

This work is the outcome of a desire to produce a volume worthy
in every respect of the beautiful gardens of Scotland. Sir Herbert
Maxwell, whose knowledge of the subject is probably unique, is
personally acquainted with the places described, and has throughout
been in consultation with the artist, Miss Wilson. Visitors to her
studio in Edinburgh, or the exhibitions of her work in London, will
need no further testimony to the charm of her pictures, which are
here reproduced with the utmost care and on the largest feasible
scale.

One of the objects of the work is to dispel certain popular fallacies
as to the rigours of the Scottish climate. Its chief aim, however, is
to present a typical selection of Scottish garden scenes representing
all styles and all scales, modest as well as majestic, and formal as
well as free, so that the possessor of the humblest plot of ground
may be stimulated to beautify it, with as fair hope of success, in
proportion, as the lord of many thousand acres.

ALPINES AND BOG-PLANTS.

By REGINALD FARRER,

AUTHOR OF 'MY ROCK GARDEN,' ETC.

With Illustrations. Large Crown 8vo. js. 6d. net.

Like most hobbies, rock-gardening provides an endless topic of
interest for its devotees, and the lore of the subject is inexhaustible.
At any rate, Mr. Reginald Farrer, who is a recognized authority on
the art, by no means exhausted his stock of information and anecdote
in his previous work, ' My Rock Garden.' That garden, as most of
his fellow-enthusiasts know, is on the slopes of Ingleborough in
Yorkshire, and it is a place of pilgrimage for the faithful of this cult.
As a writer, Mr. Farrer combines a light and genial style with sound
practical information, so that his books are at once readable and
instructive. Some idea of the scope of the present volume may be
gained from the list of chapters, which is as follows : i . Of Shrubs
and their Placing. 2. Of Shrubs, Mostly Evergreen. 3. Ranun-
culaceae, Papaveraceae, Cruciferae. 4. A Collecting Day above
Arolla. 5. Between Dianthus and Epilobium. 6. From Epilobium
on through Umbelliferae and Composite. 7. Of Odd Treasures.
8. The Big Bog and its Lilies. 9. The Greater Bog Plants. 10. Iris,
ii. The Mountain Bog. 12. More of the Smaller Bog Plants.
13. The Water Garden.

8 Mr. Edward Arnold's List of New Books

THE HISTORY OF THE 'GEORGE'

WORN ON THE SCAFFOLD BY

KING CHARLES I.

By SIR RALPH PAYNE-GALLWEY, Bart.,

AUTHOR OP 'THE MYSTERY OF MARIA STELLA,' ETC.

Finely illustrated in Collotype. Royal Svo. 75. 6d. net.

A ' George,' in the sense in which it is here used, is the jewelled
pendant of St. George and the Dragon which is worn by Knights of
the Garter. There are two of these * Georges ' used in the Insignia
of the Order. One is attached to the collar, and is worn only on
solemn feasts: the other is called « the lesser George,' and is worn on
general occasions, attached to a chain or lace of silk.

The sovereign is, of course, head of the Order, and Charles the
First was wearing his ' George ' when he ascended the scaffold to be
executed. The question afterwards arose as to what had become
of it, and it has since been given up as lost. Sir Ralph Payne-
Gallwey, however, who has already, in his book on Maria Stella,
proved himself a skilful literary unraveller of historical mysteries,
makes out a very good case, in his new volume, for identifying the
missing ' George ' with one that is now in King Edward's possession
at Windsor.

A PARSON IN THE AUSTRALIAN

BUSH.

By C. H. S. MATTHEWS, M.A.,

LATE VICE-PRINCIPAL OF THE BROTHERHOOD OF THE GOOD SHEPHERD, N.S.W.

Illustrated from Sketches by the AUTHOR, etc. Crown Svo. 6s. net.

The Rev. C. H. S. Matthews, better known in the bush of New
South Wales as ' Brother Charles,' is one of the founders and chiefs
of an Anglican Society called the Brotherhood of the Good Shepherd,
formed to minister to the religious needs of those remote regions.
During five years spent almost entirely in itinerating in the ' back-
blocks ' of the colony, he has had exceptional opportunities for
studying bush-life. Finding, on his return to England, a wide-spread
interest in Australian affairs, coupled offcn with an astonishing
ignorance of the real Australia, it occurred to him to set down his
own experiences and views on various Australian problems. Knock-
ing about among the bushmen, camping with sleeper-cutters and
drovers, visiting the stations and selections ' out-back,' Mr. Matthews
has caught the spirit and atmosphere of the bush, with its mingled
pathos, humour and humanity. The book should appeal, not only
to those interested in missionary enterprise, but to all who like to
learn how the other parts of the Empire live.

Mr. Edward Arnold's List of New Books

THE ROSE-WINGED HOURS.

Xove Xgrfcs.
Arranged by St. JOHN LUCAS,

EDITOR OF 'THE OXFORD BOOK OF FRENCH VERSE,' ETC.

Small Svo., elegantly bound. 55. net.

The special claim of this anthology, arranged, as it is, by one of
our most promising younger poets, will be due to the prominence
given in it to the love-lyrics of those Elizabethan and Jacobean
poets whose verse, though really entitled to rank with the finest
flowers of their better-known contemporaries, is unduly neglected by
the ordinary reader. The love-lyric is, indeed, the only form in
which a great many of the lesser poets write anything at all
memorable.

Sidney and Campion, both writers of extraordinary power and
sweetness, devote themselves almost entirely to this form, and the
strange and passionate voice of Doune finds in it an accent of deep
and haunting eloquence. And since every love-lyric from Meleager
to Meredith has a certain deathless interest that is shared by every
poem of its kind, no matter how many the centuries between them,
in this volume the great line of the Elizabethans will lead to the
nineteenth century poets, to the singers of an epoch with a lyrical
harvest as great, indeed, as all the gold of Elizabeth.

THE MISTRESS ART.

By REGINALD BLOMFIELD, A.R.A,,

PROFESSOR OF ARCHITECTURE TO THE ROYAL ACADEMY.
AUTHOR OF 'A HISTORY OF RENAISSANCE ARCHITECTURE IN ENGLAND.'

Crown Svo. 55. net.

The author of this interesting book, who speaks, as it were,
ex cathedra, has here collected a series of eight lectures on
architecture delivered in the Royal Academy. In them he has
endeavoured to establish a standpoint from which architecture should
be studied and practised. His general position is that architecture
is an art with a definite technique of its own, which cannot be trans-
lated into terms either of ethics or of any of the other arts, and the
development of this thesis involves a somewhat searching criticism
of the views on architecture advanced by Ruskin and Morris.

The first four lectures deal with the study of architecture — its
relation to personal temperament, its appeal to the emotions, and
its limitations. In the last four, devoted to ' The Grand Manner,'
the writer has illustrated his conception of the aims and ideas of
architecture by reference to great examples of the art in the past.

io Mr. Edward Arnold's List of New Books

WOODSMEN OF THE WEST.

By M. ALLERDALE GRAINGER.

With Illustrations. Demy %vo. 78. 6d. net.

This is an extremely interesting personal narrative of { logging '

in British Columbia. ' Logging,' as everyone knows, means felling

and preparing for the saw-mill the giant timber in the forests that

fringe the Pacific coast of Canada, and it is probably true that

no more strenuous work is done on the face of the earth. Mr.

Grainger, who is a Cambridge Wrangler, has preferred this manual

work to the usual mental occupations of the mathematician, and

gives us a vivid and graphic account of an adventurous life.

ARVAT.

B Bramatic poem in jfouc Bets.
By LEOPOLD H. MYERS.

Crown 8vo. 45. 6d. net.

The author of this play is a son of the late Frederick Myers, the
well-known authority on ' Psychical Research.' It is a poetical
drama in four acts, describing the rise and fall of the hero, Arvat.
The time and place are universal, as are also the characters. But
the latter, though universal, and therefore in a sense symbolic, are
psychologically human, and the significance of the action, heightened
as it may be by interpretation through the imagination, is neverthe-
less independent of it. Thus Arvat's career, while providing subject-
matter for a drama among individuals in the flesh, may also be taken
as the symbol of a drama among ideas in the spirit.

PEEP-IN-THE-WORLD.

B Storg for Gbtl&rem

By Mrs. F. E. CRICHTON.

Illustrated by Harry Roimtvee. Crown 8vo. 35. 6d.

The author of this charming tale ought to take rank with such

writers as Mrs. Molesworth in the category of childhood's literature.

The story tells of a little girl who visits her uncle in Germany and

spends a year in an old castle on the borders of a forest. There she

finds everything new and delightful. She makes friends with a dwarf

cobbler, who lives alone in a hut in the forest, and knows the speech

of animals and birds. Knut, the cobbler, is something of a hermit

and a misanthrope, but he is conquered by Peep-in-the- World, whom

he eventually admits to the League of Forest Friends. She wants

him to teach her how to talk to the wild things of the woods, and

though she has to leave Germany without learning the secret, she

gains a growing sense of the magic power of sympathy and kindness.

Mr. Edward Arnold's List of New Books n

LONDON SIDE-LIGHTS.

By CLARENCE ROOK.

With Frontispiece by S. de la Bere. Crown Svo. 6s.

The author of these entertaining sketches has taken his place as
an ordinary Londoner who is a journalist as well. He has walked
and ridden about London with pennies in his pocket, eyes in his
head, and a brain behind the eyes. He has found secrets of London
hotels, he has pierced the problem of London traffic, he has been to
queer boxing contests, and he has been present at the birth of the
popular song. He has sat in the gallery of the House of Commons,
and in the newspaper office that cuts and carves its speeches. And
he knows the story of the famous block in Piccadilly. He has found,
too, the problem of the London woman who is alone. The problem
also of those London children whom the Salvation Army rescues.
And at the end comes the ' Bath of Silence,' which gives the City
peace.

THE DOWAGER OF JERUSALEM.

B IRomance in tfour Bets,
By REGINALD FARRER,

AUTHOR OF ' IN OLD CEYLON,' ' MY ROCK GARDEN,' ETC.

Crown Svo. 33. 6d. net.

CHRONICLES OF SERVICE LIFE IN

MALTA.

By Mrs. ARTHUR STUART.
Illustrated by Paul Hardy. Crown Svo. 6s.

Fiction is always the more interesting the more closely it is drawn
from life, and these sketches of naval and military society in Malta,
depicted in the form of stories, come from the pen of a lady who
is intimately acquainted with the life of which she writes. The
names of some of the stories, such as * The Temptation of the
Engineer,' ' The Red Parasol/ * The Prince, the Lady, and the
Naval Captain,' will perhaps be as good an indication as can be
given of the character of the book. It will doubtless appeal especially
to those familiar with society at naval and military stations, while the
fact of its having a specific milieu should in no way detract from
its general interest. ' Plain Tales from the Hills ' did not appeal
only to the Anglo-Indian.

12 Mr. Edward Arnold's List of New Books

KNOWN TO THE POLICE.

Memories of a police Court

By THOMAS HOLMES,

AUTHOR OF 'PICTURES AND PROBLEMS FROM LONDON POLICE COURTS.'

Demy Svo. los. 6d. net.

There is probably no man living who is so well qualified as Mr.
Holmes to write the naked truth about the ' submerged tenth ' of our
population. His are not the casual, superficial observations of the
amateur, but the first-hand experiences of one whose whole life is spent
among the scenes he describes. His work has lain among the hungry
and thirsty ; he has visited the criminal in prison, and been face to
face with the Hooligan and the Burglar in their own haunts ; but
through all the gloom and shadow of crime he has contrived to pre-
serve a fellow-feeling with humanity in its most depressing garb.
Every chapter is full of interest, of strange and quaint narratives in
chequered pages of despair and hope.

VEGETARIAN COOKERY.

By FLORENCE A. GEORGE,

AUTHOR OF 'KING EDWARD'S COOKERY BOOK.'

Crown Svo. 35. 6d.

Some are vegetarians for conscience* sake, and others for the sake
of their health. Miss George caters for both these classes in her
new book ; but she does not strictly exclude all animal food, since
eggs, butter, milk, cream and cheese form a large part of her dishes.
As far as possible, dietetic foods have been avoided in the recipes, as
they are often difficult to procure. Every recipe given has been
tested to ensure accuracy, and the simplest language is used in
explaining what has to be done. A special feature of the book is the
large number of vegetable souffles and creams. The various chapters
deal with Stock and Soups ; Sauces ; Pastes, Borders and Garnishes ;
Casseroles, Patties, Pies, Puddings and Timbales ; Curries, Stews
and Scallops ; Galantines ; Croquettes ; Vegetables ; Aspics, Creams
and Salads; Souffles, Omelettes and Egg Dishes; Aigrettes and
Fritters ; Savouries ; Macaroni and Rice ; Sweets ; and Menus.

Mr. Edward Arnold's List of New Books 13

THE SEEKERS.

By FRANK SAVILE,

AUTHOR OF ' THE DESERT VENTURE,' ETC.

Crown 8vo. 6s.

This is a stirring novel of adventure in Eastern Europe. A learned
Professor astonishes the British Association by announcing that he
has located the famous lost treasure of Diocletian, as buried some-
where in the principality of ' Montenera.' This little State with its
brave Prince is hard pressed for funds to defend itself against more
powerful neighbours who aim at absorbing it, and the treasure would
be invaluable. Whether it was discovered or not, the reader learns
in the course of a spirited and exciting story. In reviewing the
author's last novel, ' The Desert Venture,' the Times said : ' When
you have agreed to treat it as crude adventure, it is really as good
as you can wish/ The World said : * If Mr. Savile's style is to some
extent modelled on that of Merriman, this is no fault, but a virtue.
And the reading world will find that it may safely welcome such work
as this on its own account — as it assuredly will.'

THE WITCH'S SWORD.

By DAVID KERR FULTON.

Illustrated by the Author. Crown 8vo. 6s.

This work, by a new author, is of a highly imaginative and romantic
tendency, and deals with a most interesting period in Scottish history.
The hero, who tells his own story, is an All Hallows child, born in
the one weird hour which makes him kith and kin to the spirits of
the air. The mystery of Flodden and the strange events grouped
round the ancient tradition as to the fate of the gallant James are
stirringly told, and lead up to the denouement, which comes with
vivid unexpectedness at the close of the book.

The lonely orphan of a wronged father is unwittingly schooled to
vengeance by the fiery Welsh swordsman Jevan, who, at the
instigation of the dying old nurse, forges the wizard steel that gives
the story its name.

A tender love idyll is woven into the tale and relieves the scenes
of violence through which the wearer of the Witch's Sword must
fight his way to honour and acceptance.

14 Mr. Edward Arnold's List of New Books

AMABEL CHANNICE.

By ANNE DOUGLAS SEDGWICK,

AUTHOR OF 'VALERIE UPTON,' ETC.

Crown 8vo. 6s.

Readers of * Valerie Upton ' will turn eagerly to Miss Sedgwick's
new novel. The scene is laid in England, and the principal char-
acters are four — Amabel Channice, her son, her husband, and
another woman, Lady Elliston. The relations between mother
and son form the basis of the story, and the dramatic situation
begins when the son, a youth of nineteen, broaches to his mother
the question why she and his father do not live together. Curiosity
is thus awakened, and the emotional atmosphere charged with uneasy
expectation. Thereafter events move quickly, reaching a dramatic
climax within the space of a week. Further than this it would not
be fair to the author to reveal her plot.

A ROOM WITH A VIEW.

By E. M. FORSTER,

AUTHOR OF 'THE LONGEST JOURNEY,' 'WHERE ANGELS FEAR TO TREAD,' ETC.

Crown Svo. 6s.

A novelist's third book, when its predecessors have shown great
promise, is generally held to make or mar his reputation. There
can be no question that Mr. Forster's new story will effectually
establish his position. It is a comedy, having more affinity in style
with his first book, < Where Angels Fear to Tread,' than with ' The
Longest Journey.' The author's whimsical humour, and unexpected
turns of satire, have attained a still more piquant quality. He excels
especially in satirizing the banalities of ordinary conversation, and
his dialogue is always deliciously amusing.

MIRIAM.

By EDITH C. M. DART.
Crown Svo. 6s.

This is a promising first novel by a new writer, whose style is
remarkable for delicate workmanship. The story moves round the
dying fortunes of an old country family and its ancestral home. The
hero belongs to another branch of this family, and there is a mystery
about his birth. The heroine is an orphan, the daughter of a yeoman
father and a French mother. Another important character is a
scheming lawyer, and with these threads of love and intrigue the
author has woven an interesting plot which is cleverly worked out.

Mr. Edward Arnold's List of New Books 15

THE DRESSING OF MINERALS.

By HENRY LOUIS, M.A.,

PROFESSOR OF MINING AND LECTURER ON SURVEYING, ARMSTRONG COLLEGE,
N EWC ASTLE-ON-TVNE.

With about 400 Illustrations. Royal Svo. 305. net.

The object of this book is to fill a gap in technological literature
which exists between works on Mining and works on Metallurgy.
On the intermediate processes, by which the minerals unearthed by
the miner are prepared for the smelter and for their use in arts and
manufactures, no English text-book has yet appeared. The present
work should, therefore, be very welcome to students, as well as to
miners and metallurgists.

THE GEOLOGY OF ORE DEPOSITS.

By H. H. THOMAS and D. A. MAcALISTER,

OF THE GEOLOGICAL SURVEY.

Illustrated. Crown Svo. 75. 6d. net.

This book belongs to a new series of works under the general
editorship of Dr. J. E. Marr, F.R.S., for students of economic
geology, a subject which is receiving more and more attention
in our great educational centres. It is also hoped that the series
will be useful to students of general geology, as well as to
surveyors and others concerned with the practical uses of geology.
The chapters in the present volume treat severally on the Genesis
of Ore Deposits, Segregation, Pneumatolysis, Metasomasis, Depo-
sition from Solution, Sedimentary Deposits, and Secondary Changes
in Lodes.

STEEL ROOF AND BRIDGE DESIGN.

By W. HUME KERR, M.A., B.Sc.,

LECTURER ON ENGINEERING, DRAWING AND DESIGN, UNIVERSITY OF EDINBURGH.

With detailed Drawings. Demy Svo. IDS. 6d. net.

In accordance with a need long felt by engineering students, this
work presents the complete designs of four typical structures — two
roof trusses and two bridges — worked out with full arithmetical
calculation of stresses. There is a minimum of theory, and the
author's object has been to make the methods of design so clear as
to enable students and engineers to proceed to design independently.

16 Mr. Edward Arnold's List of New Books.

THE BODY AT WORK.

By ALEX HILL, M.A., M.D., F.R.C.S.,

SOMETIME MASTER OF DOWNING COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE.
AUTHOR OF 'AN INTRODUCTION TO SCIENCE,' 'THE PHYSIOLOGIST'S NOTE-BOOK," ETC.

With Illustrations, xii + 452 pages, Demy 8vo. i6s. net.

This is a book for the non-professional reader, not a regular
text-book for the medical student. It does not assume any technical
knowledge of the sciences, such as chemistry, physics and biology,
which lead up to a formal study of physiology. Dr. Hill describes
the phenomena of life, their interdependence and causes, in language
intelligible to people of general education, and his book may be com-
pared in this respect with Dr. Hutchison's well-known work on
* Food.' There is perhaps a prejudice against the ordinary popularizer
of scientific knowledge, but when a master of his subject takes up his
pen to write for the public, we cannot but be grateful that he has
cast aside the trammels of the text-book, and handled subjects of vital
interest to humanity in so broad and philosophic a manner.

A TEXT-BOOK OF EXPERIMENTAL
PSYCHOLOGY.

By Dr. C. S. MYERS,

PROFESSOR OF PSYCHOLOGY AT KING'S COLLEGE, LONDON UNIVERSITY.

Crown Svo. 8s. 6d. net.

The lack of a text-book on Experimental Psychology has been
long felt, the literature of the subject having been hitherto so scattered
and profuse that the student has to collect a small library of books
and periodicals. The present work gives an account of the more im-
portant results obtained, and describes methods of experiment, with
practical directions for the student.

APPLIED PHYSIOLOGY.

21 1&an&boofc tor Students ot /iftebfcine.
By ROBERT HUTCHISON, M.D., F.R.C.P.,

PHYSICIAN TO THE LONDON HOSPITAL, AND ASSISTANT PHYSICIAN TO THE HOSPITAL

FOR SICK CHILDREN.
AUTHOR OF ' FOOD AND THE PRINCIPLES OF DIETETICS,' ETC.

Crown 8vo. js. 6d. net.

The author of a standard work on diet is not likely to err by
being too theoretical. The principle of Dr. Hutchison's new book
is to bring physiology from the laboratory to the bedside. ' Physio-
logy,' he writes, ' is studied in the laboratory, and clinical medicine
in the wards, and too often one finds that the student is incapable of
applying his scientific knowledge to his clinical work.'

LONDON : EDWARD ARNOLD, 41 & 43 MADDOX STREET, W.

YC 19927

M31E911