304 PARTRIDGES 



when it will be important to keep close 

 account of how many birds you have 

 down, and it is no light task to keep the 

 score in your head when the fun is fast 

 and furious and then take measure of 

 your surroundings. 



The steep chalk bank rising in front 

 of you, fragrant with thyme and gorse, 

 is crowned by an overgrown hedge of 

 thorn and hazel, tangled with briar and 

 bracken, now bright with trailing wreaths 

 of briony and ripe berries of hawthorn 

 and elder. Birds topping the fence 

 would be too far out to take at once 

 you decide to let them come well over 

 you before shooting. Otherwise all 

 seems plain sailing, every bird must be 

 a real 'archangel/ to be taken at your 

 favourite angle, without having to think 

 where your neighbours are. 



The lazy caw of a rook, a far-away 

 tinkling of sheep-bells, the drowsy hum 

 of bees about your feet, and the echo of 

 a distant horn which tells you that the 

 beaters are off, are the only sounds that 



