36 SEAFOWL SHOOTING SKETCHES. 



LANDRAIL CALLING; SEAFOWL SHOOTING ON THE 

 KIBBLE (1885). 



The following- sketch will demonstrate the usefulness of a simple 

 little instrument which any shooter can make for himself. For 

 many years I had had a desire to shoot a landrail, but they were 

 rather rare in the district I was residing- in. Other birds were 

 rare as well, and I have been told I contributed to the general 

 scarceness. 



I remember going every evening for a week endeavouring to 

 shoot a corncrake, but, somehow or other, never could get a shot. 

 Once I was pretty near it, but a tremendous clap of thunder and a 

 pouring shower of rain effectually scared both myself and the bird. 

 I began to think that even the very elements were enlisted against 

 me, and ceased to try for such game as landrails. I recollect I 

 spoiled the teeth of a good tenon saw scraping a steel over it on 

 one occasion. 



Now, as there is a fair sprinkling of them in this neighbourhood, 

 although only in the breeding season, the dormant desire revived, 

 and having obtained the requisite permission (the birds not being 

 in the schedule to the present Wild Birds Act), I made a new call, 

 and taking the gun tried again. Still without success. 



However, after an interval of a few years, walking with a friend 

 one Sunday evening towards the end of April, I observed a bird 

 running across the footpath. We both pursued it, and frequently 

 getting within a dozen yards discovered it was one of the coveted 

 birds. Had it not been Sunday I would have gone for the gun 

 there and then. Early on the Monday and Tuesday mornings 

 following I was at the place, but though the bird could be heard 

 calling, that was all. 



Wednesday morning dawned, or rather it had not dawned, when 

 I arose from an uneasy slumber, and, again impelled this time 

 by my good genius, sallied forth armed with gun and call. It was 

 a lovely spring morning, and the walk in the cool fresh air, laden 

 with the odour of awakening nature, was most enjoyable. 



No sooner was the gate opened leading to the field it haunted 

 than the welcome " Crake, crake," resounded from the grass, and 

 not far off, either. Having charged the gun with a couple of 

 cartridges loaded with 8's shot, I got down by the side of the 

 hedge, and, pulling out the wooden rattle, rubbed it along the side 

 of my thigh. Instantly the bird responded, and at the same 

 moment ran out from the hedge about twenty yards higher up with 



