A Golden Opportunity J43 



Plover pattered all over the field, while the sur- 

 vivors swept over Joe. Another double hail 

 ripped through the crowded mass and scattered 

 it into detached bands, which sped wildly in all 

 directions. Twice, groups of fifteen or twenty 

 dashed past my stand and paid full toll, and I 

 could hear Joe hammering away. Then, for a 

 few moments, some bewildered single birds gave 

 chances to both guns, then silence fell and far 

 away a dark cloud paled and vanished. 



It was some twenty minutes before the 

 "powcher" would admit that there was no 

 more return to be expected. Then we set to 

 work at the retrieving. This proved no easy 

 task, for a fall plover matches short brown grass 

 in a baffling fashion. Finally, after piling to- 

 gether all birds lying within a certain area, we 

 tramped a few yards apart, to and fro from end 

 to end of the field. This method was rewarded 

 by the discovery of half a dozen or more scat- 

 tered birds. The total bag numbered eighty- 

 odd. 



The birds were in prime condition, and it was 

 an easy task to arrange them in small lots. The 

 disposal of them was still easier, for a man 

 troubled with too much choice game is mighty 

 apt to be, for the moment, the most popular chap 

 in town. 



Upon one other occasion a great flock of plover 



