104 FIELD NOTES FOR THE YEAR. 



always succeeds, and having brought the bird, and re- 

 ceived his reward of ship-biscuit, he lies down again, but 

 with eyes and ears all intent on what is going on. The sea- 

 gull, or heron, may pass, and he takes no notice of them ; 

 but the moment that a wild duck's quack, or the whistle of 

 his wings, is heard, the dog's ears erect themselves, and he 

 watches my face with a look of most inquiring eagerness. I 

 hear the wild swans " trumpeting " on the sea, but know 

 that they are not very likely to come where I am placed. 

 Presently, however, a brace of teal pitch suddenly, and 

 unexpectedly, within a few yards of me, having flitted in 

 from behind. 



I kill the drake, but cannot get a shot at the duck, as she 

 flies low, and the smoke hanging heavily in the calm evening, 

 prevents my seeing her. However, all at once the mallards 

 begin to fly from the sea, and for half an hour or less I have 

 to load and fire as fast as I can, as they fly over. I prefer 

 shooting them on the wing, for if I let them pitch in the 

 water, my dog has a swim every time I kill one, and gets 

 half-dead with ice and frozen snow. 



The mallards generally fly in from the sea rapidly, and at 

 no great height ; but it requires some practice to kill them, 

 as their flight is much quicker than it appears, and they 

 require a hard blow to kill them dead. If wounded only, 

 they fly off, and dropping at some distance, I can seldom get 

 them that night, owing to the approaching darkness. Some- 

 times my retriever marks the direction of a wounded duck 

 and gets it, but generally they are lost, and serve only to 

 feed the foxes, who seem to hunt for maimed birds regularly 

 round the lakes. 



Having killed ten mallards and a teal, it becomes too dark 

 to shoot any more, although I still hear their wings as they 

 fly over my head Besides which, I have nearly three miles 

 to walk ; and my keeper, who has also killed two or three, 

 had, before we commenced duck shooting, sundry animals to 

 carry, the produce of my day's wanderings. We have to 

 walk home too, there being no road near these lakes. So, 

 after I have re-filled my pipe, and the old fellow has re-charged 

 his nose with a spoonful of snuff, we shoulder our game and 

 set off. Eight or ten fat mallards, too, are no slight load 

 over a rough track in the dark, so we keep the sands as far 

 as possible, listening to the different cries of the sandpipers, 

 curlews, and numerous kinds of wild fowl who feed on the 



