I02 THE COMPLETE WILDFOWLER 



broken surf looked one vast sheet of white. Each in a rough 

 ambuscade composed of boulder rocks and stones, my friend 

 and I ensconced ourselves on one of the points mentioned. We 

 had not long to wait. Heading the north-east gale, struggled 

 on with remarkable progress a long string of about fifty mallard. 

 Unfortunately, these birds passed just out of shot. The mallard 

 had scarcely dwindled out of sight when we discerned a dark 

 clump of birds approaching from the south along the coast-line. 

 On they came, battling against the gale; they were brent. Just 

 as they passed between my friend and me, they "strung out" 

 into line and afforded both of us a good chance to score. With 

 an ounce and a half of No. 3 shot from my lo-bore double, I 

 killed my first bird clean at not more than twenty-five yards 

 range. My second shot failed to take effect ; probably I 

 missed. The second-barrel shot was a very awkward one, for 

 as the geese "speeled " or rose alarmed at the first report they 

 quickly drifted back with the wind over my head. My friend 

 secured a double kill, both birds falling stone dead on the 

 point. His second bird was a long shot. My friend's gun 

 was a Greener double 8-bore — a very powerful shooting gun. 

 We had just got resettled after gathering the geese when, like 

 a flash, there darted past us a drove of black duck (scoter). 

 Before we could snatch up our guns they were past, going with 

 the wind like streaks of lightning. Then a very large com- 

 pany of widgeon came. Out of this company of birds, with 

 the united effect of both guns fired almost simultaneously, we 

 brought down seven, and another, carrying on, fell dead in the 

 sea. This last bird, of course, could not be retrieved, even 

 with the aid of a dog. The sea was raging like a boiling pot 

 over the rocks, and to have urged a dog to face such water 

 would have been inhuman. As these widgeon passed, some of 

 them were so close that I could distinguish the handsome 

 cocks from the sombre hens. They were bunching just nicely, 

 when the report of my friend's gun, sounding in the gale like 



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