GROUSE SHOOTING 



— one by each gun — the young birds well grown and feathered. 

 Then we whistle up the reserve dogs, and Rake is taken up 

 for the present — a pair of white and tan pointers, Juno and 

 Diomede, quartering the ground in front of them with clock- 

 work regularity. 



' So the morning goes on with varying fortune : the sun is 

 rather hot, the scent not first-rate, and sometimes we go half- 

 an-hour without a shot ; but when we reach the wire fence by 

 the march of Craig-an-terrive we find that another sportsman 

 has been on the ground. We pick up two freshly killed grouse, 

 and from the condition of their heads it is easy to see that the 

 murder has been the work of a peregrine. Here the keeper 

 casts a reproachful glance at me, as I never fire my gun at the 

 magnificent birds, and rejoice at the laird's orders that they 

 should not be trapped. Inveterate poachers they are, no 

 doubt — but what a beautiful thing is the swoop of a wild 

 peregrine ! Perhaps I shall see my friend himself later on. 



' By one o'clock we stop at a lovely little spring, coming 

 straight out of the side of the hill, and stretch our limbs and 

 inspect the bag while our luncheon is being unpacked. There 

 are eleven brace of grouse — counting the greyhen, which must 

 masquerade under that title, and an old blackcock — whose 

 illegal slavighter must, I fear, be attributed not to accident, 

 but design — fom- snipe and a hare. Altogether a fair morning's 

 work ; for I usually calculate on the afternoon bag doubling 

 that of the morning — the birds are easier to find, and the even- 

 ing is the best time for shooting. There let them cool while we 

 discuss our lunch and the best pipe of the day. 



' Half-an-hour — or perhaps three-quarters ! sees us once 

 more on the move, and here we are on some of our best ground, 

 just above Loch Leachan — a fair-sized loch, with a curious 

 little stone island near its middle. It is very calm just now, 

 and although it is some distance off, we can see a flock of duck 

 near the reeds, and the circles made by the rising trout. Here 

 we pick up a good many birds, and spare one or two coveys 

 of squeakers — second broods, to all appearance ; and here we 



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