312 SHORES OF THE CASPIAN. 



water-hens. The whole surface seemed dark with 

 them, the reeds alive with their ceaseless cries. 

 The sale of these birds is quite a feature in the 

 street life of Lenkoran. The bazaar is full of their 

 carcasses ; at every street corner you meet men 

 hawking them for sale ; every other peasant you 

 see is carrying two or three home for the pot. 



On the lake are many flat-bottomed boats in 

 which the fowlers pole themselves through the 

 mazy waterways in the reed-beds, until at a sudden 

 turn a closely packed bevy of water-hens offers 

 them a remunerative shot. So cheap are the birds 

 in the bazaar, that to kill them singly with the 

 gun would entail absolute loss on the gunner. But 

 besides these wild-fowlers, who are after all but 

 occasionally employed in their pursuit, there are the 

 regular enemies of the poor little fowl, men who 

 have decoys, and nets drawn across certain straits, 

 down which they drive the birds, until in diving to 

 escape they are caught by scores in the submerged 

 net. There are naturally quantities of other fowl 

 on these lakes, but the water-hen seems to thrive 

 and abound most, and is so much more easily 

 taken than the others that it is the staple food of a 

 large number of the inhabitants of Lenkoran. 



On our voyage we overhauled one of the regular 

 fowlers, a Tartar, witli whom we had a rather hot 

 dispute. As he drew up his net full of struggling 

 or already drowned birds, we were horrified to see 



