40 A BIRD COLLECTOR'S MEDLEY. 



in a new place. My only reason for avoiding them is that, under ordinary 

 circumstances, I would sooner try and do the whole thing myself and fail, than 

 I would have half of it done by another and succeed. 



During the evening flight alone does the shore shooter require a dog. In a 

 boat a dog is a terror ; on the open shore he is nearly as bad ; but when one is 

 flight-shooting he is an invaluable ally. A dog's nose is worth a dozen human 

 eyes when it comes to hunting for a wounded bird in the dark, and, moreover, 

 while he hunts you can shoot. 



The most enjoyable evening's flight-shooting that ever came my way was 

 due to an accident. I had taken up my station on a Norfolk marsh behind a 

 gate, expecting one or two shots at the outside. Hardly had I buried myself 

 in the shadow, when up came a bunch of Teal, and I had no sooner settled 

 with them than a flock of Mallard appeared, heading for the same spot. Again 

 I fired, but the survivors, instead of making off for the more distant portion of 

 the marsh, wheeled round, and were soon again within range. This went on 

 for the best part of half an hour, very much to my edification. There seemed 

 some strange attraction about the gate that I had chosen. At last I grasped 

 what they were after : the field next to mine was on a higher level, and, 

 standing on the gate to see if there was anything there to attract them, I 

 discovered that a crop of barley had just been cut, and was not yet gathered 

 in. The mystery was now explained ; it was a victory of the stomach over 

 the head. 



Barley, too, was accountable for some extraordinary Duck shooting that 

 was once obtained at Holme. A barley ship came ashore near Gore Point, and 

 much of its cargo was scattered upon the beach. Ducks turned up in large 

 numbers, and local sportsmen, clambering on to the wreck, did great execution 

 until the tide returned. But what began amidst much mutual congratulation, 

 was destined to end in the saddest of tragedies ; for the shooter who returned 

 first to the wreck after the tide had receded stepped into what he must have 

 imagined to be a shallow pool of water at its side. It was not ; it was a deep 

 hole made by the ship when it first struck, but from which it had been shifted 

 by the next tide. The unfortunate man was carried down by his long waders, 

 which, of course, filled, and in this awful death-trap he was drowned before 

 anyone guessed that there was aught amiss. 



I myself having always to reckon with a possible attack of rheumatism, 

 have rather a partiality for August and September as flighting months. The 

 advantage in the matter of warmth is obvious, but there is also the matter of 

 variety. During the season of migration one may towards evening meet with 

 many other interesting creatures besides Duck, creatures far more valuable in 



