The Confessions of a 'Poach er. 53 



charge of powder and shot. Ensconced in the 

 scrub I had only now to wait for the dawn. 

 Almost before it was fully light the covey 

 would come with a loud whirring of wings, and 

 settle to feed immediately. This was the 

 critical moment. Firing along the line a single 

 shot strewed the ground with dead and dying ; 

 and in ten minutes, always keeping clear of the 

 roads, I was a mile from the spot. 



I had yet another and a more successful 

 method of taking partridges. When, from the 

 watchfulness or cleverness of keepers (they are 

 not intelligent men as a rule), both netting and 

 shooting proved impracticable, I soaked grain 

 until it became swollen, and then steeped it in 

 the strongest spirit. This, as before, was 

 strewn in the morning paths of the partridge, 

 and, soon taking effect, the naturally pugnacious 

 birds were presently staggering and fighting 

 desperately. Then I bided my time, and as 

 opportunity offered, knocked the incapacitated 

 birds on the head. 



One of the most ingenious and frequently 

 successful methods I employed for bagging 



