324 PHEASANTS 



Five big, soft, brown birds drift across 

 high overhead one after another — caper 

 hens, disturbed at the far end of the wood 

 and wandering about in somewhat aimless 

 fashion, for three of them come sailing 

 back from behind, each shadow as they 

 cross the sun making me turn sharp 

 round, expectant of nobler game. 



A tiny party of grouse, probably 

 flushed by some flanker outside the 

 wood, swing across the edge of the 

 clearing, lost to view before I can draw 

 trigger : two sharp reports from the gun 

 outside the wood followed by two little 

 crashes in the trees — the drive has begun. 



But the shots were untimely, for, 

 half seen through branches and stems, a 

 fine fallow buck that must have been 

 coming forward to my stand, breaks 

 away back and is seen no more. While 

 still regretting his escape — not indeed 

 for the fun of shooting him, but he 

 carried a nice head, and two kinds of 

 deer and three of moor-fowl (some one 

 is sure to get a blackcock) would make 



