178 A Book of the Snipe. 



spot is a harbour for three or four birds, 

 and you kill a couple, you are very likely to 

 have another chance at the others. On some 

 days they appear dazed at the loss of their 

 comrades, and will pitch again at no great 

 distance, lying well at your next approach. 



I remember once shooting, without moving 

 an inch, every member of a little colony of 

 six snipe which inhabited a wet corner of a 

 field. I never knew birds lie better, or rise 

 in a more artistic manner for the accomplish- 

 ment of that desirable feat, a "right and 

 left," than the first four. Firstly two rose 

 simultaneously, one behind the other, and 

 both fell dead ; then — just giving me time 

 to reload — up got the next couple, with the 

 same result. The fifth was a cunning bird, 

 and sprang just as I had inserted one of 

 the two cartridges I held in my fingers. 

 He too fell, and the sixth bird, who I 

 verily believe had gauged the situation with 

 his little round eyes, sprang exultingly before 

 my empty gun. Something — perhaps the 

 disappearance of his companions — seemed 



