62 WILD LIFE ON A NORFOLK ESTUARY 



once, when rowing along, spotted a parcel of mallard coming 

 towards him ; he up with his great old hand-gun and pulled 

 at them, but the patch only cracked, and when the ducks 

 doubled back in their flight, one of 'em striking its wing on 

 the back of another dislocated it, and fell into the water, 

 whereupon Parmenter promptly retrieved it. 



" I was originally an oily-clothing maker, but took to 

 Breydon when makin' sou'-westers didn't pay so well : I'd 

 always been used to a gun." 



Many facts related by Pestell and one or two other 

 punt-gunners already mentioned, were corroborated by 

 Gibbs as he talked of tides and mudflats and pochard 

 grass, and many other things. The life of vigilance led 

 by these men has conduced to habits of keen and trust- 

 worthy observation. 



Sixty-four years ago when he was sixteen " Fiddler " 

 Goodens "took" to Breydon, where he has shot and fished 

 until the last year or two. I looked in on the old gentle- 

 man, who still keeps his two ancient, converted rifles hung 

 up in his room, to remind him of bygone days. The kindly 

 help of friends and the parish allowance are all that stand 

 between him and that goal which all independent old men 

 abominate. He was very chatty over the guns he had 

 known ; one particular weapon had belonged to Squire 

 Berney it was an old plug-breech. It came to him 

 (Goodens) and was sold to Mr. Bellin, from whom it went 

 to Reed (a gunner), who put a patent breech in it, It was 

 then sold to Bly, who now has it. It would kill ducks at 

 one hundred yards, as was proven by staking down or 

 anchoring some tame ones at a shooting contest, Goodens 

 killing two in two shots at the measured distance. 



Fifteen godwits at one shot was Goodens' favourite " kill." 

 He had seen many thousands in one day "years ago" on 

 Breydon. Fowl were then so plentiful that ones and 

 twos were passed unheeded. They wanted bunches; and 

 cripples, especially among "hard fowl," were seldom troubled 

 about, although it was a constant practice with men to scour 

 the walls and gather the wounded by the aid of dogs, which 

 scented them among the flint stones. 



Phalaropes astonished him by their chicken-like tameness, 

 and he it was who shot the grey seal near Rotten Eye. He 



