SOUTH CORNWALL. 27 
approaching it. To my relief he seemed well disposed, and having introduced 
himself as “ only a bit of a moucher, that did no harm to anybody, but just 
had a few rabbit snares down below,” he went on to suggest that I should have 
a shot at a rabbit myself. I explained that I was after a Raven, and as my 
late quarry was still within sight, I signified my intention of pursuing it. 
“That a Ra-aven,”’ said the moucher, with ill-concealed disdain; ‘why, 
it’sa Crow!”’ And as six others turned up at this moment and joined company 
with my bird, I saw at once that he was right. Not a little humbled by this 
rebuff, I asked if he knew where the Ravens were, and made out at length, 
from his somewhat disconnected utterances, that they came very early every 
morning to a certain butcher’s refuse heap within a quarter of a mile of Lizard 
Town. I then left him to his rabbits, and the Crow to its well-earned repose, 
returned forthwith to my lodgings, and arranged to be called next morning at 
five o’clock. The field I knew well, having previously marked it as a likely 
place, for I had seen both Crows and Gulls hovering over it as we drove in the 
first afternoon. It was within range of two low walls, and seemed in every 
way suitable for a successful stalk. 
Alas! for human calculations; the refuse heap, a veritable bovine golgotha, 
was too attractive. Birds were always coming and going, and it was moreover 
too near the high-road. As we approached, a Crow arose and hovered. It saw 
us, and giving the alarm put up every bird in the field, and away they went, 
the Ravens, if there were any, with them. The only thing to do was to retire 
to the village and give them time to settle again. Half an hour later we again 
advanced to the assault, crawled across the first field, and reached the cover of 
the wall. Rising cautiously behind some furze bushes, we got a partial view 
of the refuse heap, on the top of which stood a grand old Greater Black-backed 
Gull. Around were a number of Herring-Gulls and Crows, and while we 
peered about to try and discover a Raven, they gradually got wind of our 
presence, and before we had completed our inspection up they got in a confused 
mass. We both fired hurriedly at the Black-back, but to our intense disgust away 
he sailed apparently untouched, and two wretched immature Herring Gulls fell 
headlong to the ground. Such was the end of our first attempt. The second 
was equally exasperating. On the next day we again got up early and set 
off for the heap. While still on the road, a man passed us in a cart, and his 
horse saw fit to jib just opposite the Raven’s field. The noise of the ensuing 
altercation put up everything before we could get within range, and we had the 
pleasure of hearing the undoubted croak of a Raven amidst the departing 
crowd. The next day was our last, and once more we were doomed to failure. 
We got there too early this time, and a couple of Ravens coming up from 
