SEAFOWL SHOOTING SKETCHES. 55 



SEAFOWL SHOOTING ON THE RIBBLE (1890). 



Having" arranged overnight with a " client " to meet at the old 

 dock at 3 a.m. next morning", 2nd October, I went to bed at 10 

 p.m. with the determination to get up at two o'clock. Ten 

 minutes before that hour I awoke, jumped up, and was soon 

 ready. After eating a slight breakfast, I shouldered gun and oars, 

 and at a quarter to three set out. At five minutes to, I was at the 

 boat, and Mr. Curtis arrived in another five minutes, and then 

 we set off. It was a fine calm morning, with a brilliant moon, and 

 there was no difficulty in seeing the way as I pulled down the 

 river. Another boat hailed us, and asked us not to kill all the 

 birds. Of course, we promised to leave them a few. 



\Ye passed the bull nose, Savick Brook, the dredger, and barges, 

 &c., and then landed to have a short run ashore to warm ourselves, 

 as a slight but chilly wind had sprung up. 



Having succeeded in restoring circulation, we embarked, and 

 pulled steadily on. About half-past four we drew up on the 

 south side, made fast the boat, and stepped ashore. Birds were 

 calling freely, around us curlews and lapwings. It was still 

 dark, but as we faced the east there was a slight glow on the 

 horizon, and soon the distant hills could be faintly seen. Pre- 

 sently they showed a darker loom, and when the sun rose faded 

 almost out of sight. We had a couple of shots each, but got 

 nothing. Boarding the boat, we proceeded lower down. Occa- 

 sionally one or the other would look over the river wall for birds. 

 Once I saw a curlew get up, but, unfortunately, the gun was lying 

 on the boat's thoft. 



The sun was now well risen, and we again landed. Here C. 

 stalked, and shot a grey plover, and I waded through some water 

 and retrieved it. Then he dropped a whimbrel from the boat. 

 The bird was on the sand, so we put to to get it, when it rose and 

 flew with legs hanging down. Thinking it would not go many 

 yards, C. refrained from firing until it was too late. So there was 

 a good bird lost, much to our annoyance. We followed it a long 

 way, but in vain, though we saw plenty of other birds ducks and 

 plovers. 



Coming back, I had a long shot at a golden plover going away 

 overhead, and it appeared to drop amongst some heaps of mud 

 near the edge of the river. Cautiously approaching the place, I saw 

 the bird on the stones of the river wall, and with an ounce of No. 

 6 forthwith despatched it. Almost at the same moment C. shot a 

 bird which had allowed him to approach quite close. I took it 



