WILD SPORTS OF THE HIGHLANDS 



ing to get at these wary birds, and had occasionally killed 

 a stray one or two, but some ill luck or error on my part 

 (Simon would neveradmit thathis own tactics were wrong) 

 had always prevented my getting a good shot at the flocks. 

 As for Simon,he protested that "his heart was quite brok- 

 en with the beasts." One morning, however, I got up at 

 daylight and went to the shore; a heavy mist was rolling 

 over the bay, and I could see nothing, but heard the wild 

 and continued cry of hundreds of geese answering each 

 other, and apparently consulting as to what direction they 

 should seek their morning's repast in. Presently I knew 

 from their altered cry that the birds were on wing, and 

 were coming directly towards where I was: I sat down, and 

 very soon a long lineof geesecame cackling and chattering 

 withinfifteenyardsofme.andlkilledabracewithnotrouble. 

 In the afternoon, while walking on the shore, I saw a large 

 flock of geese rise off the sea and fly inland, in a long un- 

 dulating line, evidently looking for a place to feed on. I 

 watched them with my glass, and saw the field in which 

 they alighted, at the distance of a least two miles from me. 

 I sent for Simon, and started in pursuit. We came within 

 two fields of the birds, and couldadvance no nearer without 

 risk of putting them up. On two sides of the field "in which 

 they were feeding," was a deep open drain; and once In this 

 we werenearlysureofashot. Luckily afarmerwasploughing 

 in an adjoining field, and though at every turn he approach- 

 ed the ditch of the oatfield where the geese were, the birds, 

 according to their usual custom, took no notice of him. We 

 joined the ploughman, and keeping behind the horses, 

 slipped unperceived by the geese into the ditch, which, by 



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