86 2 £° w ~ Shooting. 



Three things are requisite to bird-shooting with the bow. First, 

 vou must know how to measure distance with the eye accurately and 

 quickly ; secondly, you must be quick and noiseless in your move- 

 ments ; thirdly, you must draw uniformly, that is, put the same power 

 on every shot, no matter how near or far the bird may be. When 

 you begin to shoot in the woods, after considerable experience and 

 success at target practice, you will discover that to be a good shot is 

 not the half of what it takes to make you a tolerable bird-slayer. 

 Some of the finest shots you will ever make will be misses, and some 

 of the poorest will be center hits. 



You will never be a good shot till all the operations of archery are 

 performed as naturally and almost as involuntarily as your breathing. 

 A meadow-lark shows his yellow breast in a bunch of clover blos- 

 soms thirty yards ahead — you pause instantly, throw up your bow 

 quickly, gracefully, draw an arrow to the head, let go sharply — all 

 with as little effort and with precisely the same half voluntary, half 

 mechanical accuracy with which you take so many steps in walking. 

 Your arrow flies with a keen hiss straight to the mark and knocks 

 the bird over and over amid a cloud of gold feathers and clover 

 leaves. When you can do this one time out of five, you may begin to 

 call yourself an archer and look about for game. But even then I 

 will wager you a good bow you miss your first hare, though you 

 may find him crouched in his form not twenty feet from your nose. 

 In fact, while a hare is a good large target, he is very difficult to hit 

 before one has learned by experience just how to aim at him. 



In still-hunting you will generally find him in his form, his body 

 and neck elongated, his ears flat, his chin resting on his fore-feet ; he 

 is fast asleep with his round eyes open. He looks larger by half 

 than he really is, which is apt to cause you to aim indifferently and 

 shoot carelessly. You draw with great deliberation and let drive. 

 Whack goes your arrow through the grass in which he lies, but to 

 your utter amazement up springs the frightened hare and scuds away 

 like a bit of gray paper before a gust of wind. You do not get another 

 shot at him. He hunts his hole. Upon examination you find that 

 you have overshot him, and your arrow will be sticking in the ground 

 just beyond his form, and slanting back across it toward you. This 

 is your first and most important lesson in hare-shooting. Hereafter 

 you will aim low. Yes, too low entirely ; for your next hare gets 



