100 GAME-BIRDS OF INDIA 



On one occasion I happened to be duck shooting in North 

 Lakhimpur in the extreme east of Assam, when an enormous flight 

 of snipe came in, both Pintail and Fantail. The day previous we had 

 been duck shooting over the three principal hheeh of that part of this 

 district, perhaps putting up some twenty or so snipe in the course of 

 a twelve-hours' shoot, but after their arrival we could hardly move 

 a dozen yards without putting up one or more of them. That 

 evening, shooting round the skirts of the bheel, two guns picked up 

 forty-two couple, and found the birds so numerous that we decided 

 to devote the following day to them alone. 



The ground we were to shoot over had once been high forest 

 land which had sunk until it formed a swamp in which there were 

 some three or four feet of water all the year round. The trees 

 had, of course, all died, but the stumps of many of the harder- 

 grained ones were still standing, white and bleached and looking like 

 the ghosts of their former selves. In the centre of these swamps 

 shooting on foot was impossible as the water was still too deep, but 

 all over the more shallow parts grew a dense mass of floating weeds 

 a couple of feet thick and quite firm enough to walk on with care. 

 There were three guns to take the field on this occasion, viz., myself, 

 a second, who was an average but careful shot, and a third, who could 

 be called nothing but a rank bad one. 



Before we got into the swamp itself, we picked up a couple of 

 teal and two snipe out of pools at the edge, and as soon as we got on 

 the weeds away went snipe in every direction. At first the shooting 

 was easy, the weeds firm and the water shallow, and our first dozen 

 shots or so collected eight birds, but after this we got into deeper 

 stuff, and the shooting got worse and worse. The birds still swarmed 

 on all sides, but they were rather wild, and the weeds, though strong 

 enough to hold us as long as we moved, gave way when we stood, so 

 that our " foreleg," on which the weight was, sank as we fired. 

 Sometimes we sank slowly and fired after a fashion, sometimes we 

 sank with a sudden disconcerting splash, it might be a couple of feet, 

 or it might be four, and sometimes it was even more than this. 



It was very exhausting work, and after a couple of hours, having 

 the fortune to get on a small island, we called a halt and looked at 

 the bag. C, the bad shot, had fired forty-two shots and had not a 



