198 A MEDLEY OF SPORT 



what are known as " manorial rights," have for genera- 

 tions past been regarded as " any man's manor " by 

 local gunners. 



I had not proceeded far on my way when a couple 

 of redshanks — less wary than the majority of their 

 species — got up from a muddy little gully within 40 

 yards of me. I managed to wing one of the birds 

 at my second attempt, but the other went scolding and 

 screeching across the mud-flats, apparently unscathed 

 by the contents of my first barrel. 



Old Jet, the retriever, who usually accompanies me 

 on my " shore -popping " expeditions, being under the 

 care of the local vet., I had perforce to gather the 

 'shank myself. Though its wing was very badly 

 smashed, the bird ran like a rabbit up the serpentine 

 gully, and it was only by sprinting across the saltings 

 that I prevented it harbouring in a growth of sea- 

 lavender. 



While chasing the redshank I noticed a small 

 bunch of lapwings settle on a patch of black ground a 

 short distance away from a fleet of stranded fishing 

 smacks, and within a quarter of a mile of the shore. 

 Now, by making a detour over the ooze-flats, and then 

 carefully keeping the largest of the smacks between 

 the birds and myself, I thought it possible that I 

 might be able to stalk them. Pulling the long tuck- 

 boots well up (although the ooze was not sufficiently 

 soft for mud-boards, one might at any moment blunder 

 waist-deep into an old bait-hole), I walked seaward for 



