88 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN 



within a mile of themselves, furred, finned, or feath- 

 ered. They will just frighten a good trout to his 

 hover, when he is gingerly feeding at the throat of a 

 pool on the fat may-fly that comes floating down ; 

 not because he is hungry, but for the simple reason 

 that he is unable to leave the luscious morsels alone, 

 although he is full almost to his gullet. 



The river-side is quiet here, very quiet ; you hear 

 only the faint rustle of young leaves and the ripple 

 of the clear water ; with the exception of a keeper 

 who may chance to come along the narrow track by 

 the river, you may not see a living soul all the day. 



It is beyond the limits of an angler's endurance 

 to see a good fish feeding in the season and not 

 have a try for it, if he has his rod with him. But, as 

 our old fishing friend Billy used to observe " Some 

 things is werry dubersome. You wants to turn 

 things over a bit, and fish with your head." 



On the feed again ; just a lazy suck, barely making 

 a ring. It is too much, he will be tried for anyhow. 

 The walking-stick rod is put in trim ; the finest gut 

 trace and silk line, a cobweb-looking affair but 

 strong, is arranged. Then the considering cap is 

 put on. It is a warm May day, light vapour clouds 

 drifting along at a snail's pace. It will never do to 

 cast up stream to reach him ; cobweb as it is, he 

 will see it as he watches at the throat of the pool. 

 So we observe a pair of Fiddlers on the opposite 

 side of the river for a time. It runs narrow here ; 

 and one of the birds runs along the edge and picks 

 up a may-fly from the water. This gives us an idea : 



