238 SHOOTING THE GROUSE 



and varied ground which, lying next to or forming 

 part of the moorland proper, leads you by the plea- 

 santest of transitions to the cultivated land. This is 

 the Bohemia of shooting the tract where we have 

 all spent some of the pleasantest of our days in cir- 

 cumventing its distinctive denizens, or in making a 

 mixed bag without the aid of the organisation of a 

 regular shooting party. Here sits the capercailzie 

 and lurks the roe ; here abides the blackcock and 

 crouches the hare ; here stalks the pheasant and 

 sleeps the woodcock ; while from above and below 

 the grouse and the partridge meet on the heathery 

 slopes and rushy bottoms of this debatable land, the 

 fringe of the moor. 



Driving the woods for black-game and anything 

 else that may be in them provides the pleasantest of 

 shooting days, liberally tinged with the element of 

 surprise, which is as essentially an integral part of 

 sport as it is admitted to be of wit. I quite agree 

 with the late Mr. Bromley-Davenport, than whom no 

 better sportsman ever rode, shot, or fished, that it is 

 hateful to know exactly how much game there is in a 

 covert, how many birds in a turnip field. All interest 

 is gone the moment the element of uncertainty or 

 surprise is removed. The great charm of the moor 

 edge is its variety. The long plantation of larch or 



