on Pheasants.



311



stepped across the road from our front hedge, right before the

window, with his back towards me. The road was too much in

shadow to reveal the brilliance of his burnished head and rich tawny

body colouring, though the white ring round his neck was plainly

visible. He walked slowly, with a gait like a miniature peacock,

but more daintily. As if conscious of pre-eminence among birds,

he turned his head proudly to left and right with a graceful arch of

the neck. At the hedge he inclined his head, there was a wave of

the long-barred brown tail feathers, and the pheasant disappeared

into the shadows and growths of the hedge-bottom. I withdrew

from the window to finish dressing.


Hearing footsteps a few minutes later I went to the window

again. Coming along the road was the farmer’s son, Master Robert,

carrying a gun on his arm, his alert wire-haired terrier trotting a

couple of yards in front, both keenly searching for game. Across

the top of the sixty-acre field a dark speck ran quickly into the

hedge. Mr. Robert stood for a moment, looked round, then struck

straight across the field to the top corner. I listened, but heard

no report of a gun. Half an hour later Robert came back empty-

handed.


II.


Late in the afternoon of a bright October day I came through

the rye-field with a cart. Swinging open the gate leading into

the dairy meadow, I stood for a moment looking across its broad

expanse of sward. The level rays of the setting sun cast long

shadows reaching halfway across the mead. On the far hedge, under

the great elms, scarlet haws shone in the sunlight, the maples were

golden, and the hedgerows purple and brown. Away to my left a

cock-pheasant ran quickly towards the corner. His bluish-glossy

head looked black, his body was the darkest brown, and the white

ring round his neck was all but indistinguishable, but the plump,

yet handsome, wedge-shaped body was unmistakable. I hurried

back through the gateway in time to see the bird disappear between

two wheat-ricks.


III.


The seventy-acre field, recently under barley, now full of

clover, adjoined the Downs for the greater part of its distance across



