168 AN EAST COAST NATURALIST 



a love of slaughter and the pride of marksmanship. 

 However, as I have used the gun, and, I fear, been 

 guilty of similar practices in my earlier days, there 

 have been " kills " that struck me as being of more 

 than ordinary interest, from a sportsman's point of 

 view. One of my earliest shots was at a Swift, which 

 received but one pellet at a considerable height 

 above my head. The poor thing was killed in- 

 stantly, but came down with its wings comparatively 

 stiff, and extended, reaching the earth in a rotary 

 manner, very much after the fashion of a sycamore 

 " pen " or seed that children throw up for the pur- 

 pose. But it took an extraordinary time to come 

 down. Another I saw shot flew away at least five 

 hundred yards from the gunner, and describing a 

 complete circle, boomerang - like, actually wheeled 

 round, and fell dead at our feet! 



One July morning, when out shooting by the 

 Bure, I decoyed a Redshank within shooting dis- 

 tance. Following the bird with my gun, before 

 pulling the trigger, it came into direct line with a 

 brilliant sun, which entirely closed my eyes. I had, 

 however, so accurately judged the rate of flight, and 

 its direction, that before I could properly see again, 

 I fired, and to my surprise heard a " plump " upon 



