SOME BIRD NOTES 271 



Army methods to a fairly honourable, only-a-half-pint-occa- 

 sionally, and law -abiding -under -the -circumstances sort of 

 man, acted as ostler, boots, footman, shopman, and general 



factotum. I was staying at A , in March, 1906, having 



just recovered from a severe illness. A is as dull and 



sleepy a little place as a Canadian backwoods village, and the 

 only excitement I could find was in dropping into the inn- 

 parlour for an hour or so each day to gossip with the natives 

 and I a life-long abstainer too ! 



I had one or two interesting gossips with this Salvation 

 Army poacher. Once, when tending sheep, he was " suspi- 

 cioned " by a keeper who "pal'd up" to him on the road going 

 home. There was a fine cock pheasant strutting about in 

 the road. 



" Look 'ere," said the keeper, " if you hit that old pheasant 

 with a stone, you may have him." 



" Now, if I hadn't ha' bin a bit o' a fule, I should ha' 

 hulled awk'ard-like, for I cud chuck a stone about as strait 

 as most folk, and nearly hit that owd fessant in the hid ; an' 

 he worn't the fust as I'd tried at." 



B wished he'd gone wider of the mark, for the keeper 



ever after kept a sharp eye on him, although, as it happened, 

 he was more than a match in cunning for " velveteens." 



That the average poacher is a keen reader of men, re- 

 sourceful, tactful, and learns marvellous self-restraint, goes 



almost without saying. One day B hit the road and 



ran foul of the village policeman, whom he accosted in a 

 pleasant and perfectly easy manner, and the two walked 

 together to the village in friendly converse. 



" He little thought, 'bor," said B , " I'd got a 'long-tail' 



crammed into each pocket ! " 



Speaking in the third person, he told me how "two of 

 'em " were out poaching one night, when they were disturbed 

 by the keeper and the police and had to run for it. Finding 

 themselves uncomfortably hemmed in, they made for a 

 neglected pit of water, reedy and weed-surrounded, and 

 quietly dropped into it, submerging themselves all but their 

 faces, having made for an overhanging clump of brambles, 

 into which they thrust up their heads. The keepers, although 

 they declared they saw the poachers come that way, hunted 

 long and carefully, and at length, mightily chagrined, gave 



