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AMONG THK WILD GEESE. 

 A winter's day in a gunning-punt. 



The morning broke with one of those surprises to which 

 in our "temperate" clime we are more or less accustomed. 

 A sudden and heavy snowfall had occurred during the night. 

 While men slept, all the familiar features of the landscape 

 had disappeared, buried under the wintry mantle. More- 

 over, the feathery particles still continued to fall heavily, 

 and with that steady persistency which bodes a " breeding- 

 storm." How difterently is such a phenomenon regarded ! 

 To the writer it is ever welcome, as presaging new campaigns 

 among the wildfowl and fresh successes in the wild sports 

 of the coast. The morning's post brought an invitation for a 

 couple of days' covert-shooting to wind up the season (it was 

 tbe middle of January), but this in the altered condition of 

 things could not now be entertained for a moment. It is 

 strange what an overpowering fascination the pursuit of wild- 

 fowl has for its devotees. No other sport is so precarious, 

 yet no one who has ever entered into its spirit, or been 

 "bitten" by its enthusiasm, would dream of exchanging 

 the chances of the gunning-punt, with all its risks, hard- 

 ships, and uncertainties, for the most abundant game-shoot- 

 ing which the season will afford. That afternoon, therefore, 

 I travelled down to the out-of-the-world corner of the county 

 wherein are established my fowling quarters, more to " pro- 

 spect " and arrange for furtber campaigns than in any great 

 hopes of doing much so early in the season. On arrival the 

 reports of fowl were satisfactory. Several hundreds of Geese 

 had appeared within the last few days, and the evening was 

 spent in discussions piscatorial and aucipial. 



