122 WITH BOAT AND GUN IN THE YANGTZE VALLEY. 



We will suppose that you have got your first pheasant. He has come down to a good, 

 clean, sporting shot and you have just picked him up. Nothing is more certain than that 

 you never saw a more beautiful creature in your life. When you are older there may be 

 just a passing twinge that so much beauty should die to make a sportsman's holiday. That 

 he is beautiful cannot be denied. The magnificent colouring, the glossy sheen, the harmony 

 of tints and the general splendour of his appearance cannot be overpraised, cannot even be 

 pictured in words. Seen a few hours after, the glory has departed. The colour, indeed, is 

 there but with life the charms are fled. One thing will surprise you later, the ease with 

 which this mass of brilliant colour can hide itself in a tuft of grass or weeds. 



Most men shoot over dogs, but a few who have none find not a little compensation 

 in walking up theii" own birds with the aid of a coolie or two as beaters. Then, if you 

 happen about Christmas time upon a few patches of late paddy still standing, as I have 

 done, some very pretty shooting will most likely be in store for you. But whatever the 

 particular quarry in view, a shooting trip in midwinter in this part of China is an outing that 

 cannot be beaten. As a rule the weather is as perfect as if man himself had made it to order. 

 And more so. Cloudless days, sunny with almost summer warmth, so warm that butterflies 

 forget the season and come out to be admired: starry nights, cold and frosty and so still 

 that watch dogs a mile apart answer each other from village to village. By the time the 

 night-cap has come round once more, and that is pretty early after a day's tramp in the open 

 air, except for the baying of a dog, there is not a sound but possibly the boom of a Bhuddist 

 bell in some country monastery. We turn in and sleep the sleep of the just. So far we 

 have seen no deer. We may, however, at any time come across them lying up 

 often enough in small tufts of reeds or long grass whose colour hides them to perfection. 

 So with hares. The local deer is hornless, but has the canine teeth of the upper jaw 

 developed into a pair of extremely sharp tusks. The hair is very thick and bristly. He 

 swims well, and when on land can travel at an astonishing pace, as most sportsmen know 

 who have met with him. 



Of waterfowl there is, as might be expected from our geographical position, a great 

 variety in this neighbourhood. Teal, ducks, divers, geese and swans, some in great variety 

 are known in the delta. 



We move on during the night. It is no paltry hundred acres or so that we have to 

 shoot over with half that number of jealous eyes near our boundaries on the lookout for us. 

 Like the snipe or the woodcock we are here to-day and gone to-morrow. Wherever the 

 Skylark can float, there may be our home for the next month. Here for pheasant, there for 

 duck ; now for deer, anon for boar, we wander at will with none to say us nay. 



Mr. Wade has a chapter on what to do when one gets into trouble with the natives. 

 My advice is don't get into trouble. Treat the natives with pleasant courtesy, notice the 

 children, particularly the babies in arms, answer a pleasant greeting with a kindly smile, 

 be deaf to all - Lah-le-loongs " (robbers) and " Yang Quaitzes " (foreign devils) that you are 

 sure to hear at some time or other. They break no bones. If you can muster up half a dozen 

 sentences in the local dialect, air them, and as soon as you find yourself getting beyond your 

 depth, depart with a "Ming-Tsau-wai," (good-bye) and the best tempered smile that you can 

 raise. You will not be likely to have any trouble if this is the guiding spirit of your conduct. 

 As for the churlish few, it is a pity that they cannot be chained up in the dog kennel at home. 



