The Open Air 



who may be passing. The moorhens are shot, the 

 kingfishers have been nearly exterminated or driven 

 away from some parts, the once common black- 

 headed bunting is comparatively scarce in the more 

 frequented reaches, and if there is nothing else to 

 shoot at, then the swallows are slaughtered. Some 

 have even taken to shooting at the rooks in the trees 

 or fields by the river with small-bore rifles a most 

 dangerous thing to do. The result is that the osier- 

 beds on the eyots and by the backwaters the copses 

 of the river are almost devoid of life. A few moor- 

 hens creep under the aquatic grasses and conceal 

 themselves beneath the bushes, water-voles hide 

 among the flags, but the once extensive host of water- 

 fowl and river life has been reduced to the smallest 

 limits. Water-fowl cannot breed because they are 

 shot on the nest, or their eggs taken. As for rarer 

 birds, of course they have not the slightest chance. 

 The fish have fared better because they have re- 

 ceived the benefit of close seasons, enforced with more 

 or less vigilance all along the river. They are also 

 protected by regulations making it illegal to capture 

 them except in a sportsmanlike manner; snatching, 

 for instance, is unlawful. Riverside proprietors pre- 

 serve some reaches, piscatorial societies preserve 

 others, and the complaint indeed is that the rights 

 of the public have been encroached upon. The too 

 exclusive preservation of fish is in a measure respon- 

 sible for the destruction of water-fowl, which are 

 cleared off preserved places in order that they may 

 not help themselves to fry or spawn. On the other 

 hand, the societies may claim to have saved parts of 

 the river from being entirely deprived of fish, for it is 

 not long since it appeared as if the stream would be 

 quite cleared out. Large quantities of fish have also 



no 



