The Confessions of a 'Poacher. 43 



with them we were peculiarly successful. 

 If we had not been out all night we were 

 invariably abroad at dawn, when golden 

 plover fly and feed in close bodies. Upon 

 these occasions sometimes a dozen birds were 

 bagged at a shot, though, after all, the chief 

 product of our days were obtained in the 

 cymbal nets. We invariably used a decoy, 

 and when the wild birds were brought down, 

 and came within the workings of the net, it 

 was rapidly pulled over and the game secured. 

 For the most part, however, only the smaller 

 birds were taken in this way. Coots came 

 round in their season, and although they 

 yielded a good harvest, netting them was not 

 very profitable, for as their flesh was dark and 

 fishy only the villagers and fisher-folk would 

 buy them. 



A curious little bird, the grebe or dabchick, 

 used to haunt the pools and ditches of the 

 marsh, and we not unfrequently caught them 

 in the nets whilst drawing for salmon which 

 ran up the creek to spawn. They had 

 curious feet, lobed like chestnut leaves, and 



