234 KILL OLD BIRDS. [CH. xiv. 



good, for partridges will often at such times not move an inch from 

 the spot where] they first pitched ; thereby emitting so little scent 

 that an ordinary dog will not be able to find them, however accurately 

 you may have marked the place where they opened their wings pre- 

 paratory to dropping. 



404. If, when first a covey rose, the old pair was knocked over, 

 the young ones would lie singularly close, awaiting the accustomed, 

 unspellable, unpronounceable parental call. But there is a yet 

 stronger reason why the precedence and attention usually given to 

 age should not in the present instance be withheld. Old birds, 

 whether breeding or barren, drive off the younger ones during the 

 breeding season. Some sportsmen, I am aware, deem this opinion 

 a vulgar prejudice ; but, if it be well founded, common sense bids 

 us kill the old birds, that the young ones may have undisturbed 

 possession of their ground. They must be unusually small squeakers 

 if they cannot shift for themselves early in September, particularly 

 if the weather be warm. They will come to no harm, where the 

 keeper has done his duty as a trapper. On estates infested with 

 vermin, they will, of course, suffer from the absence of the warning 

 parental cry. There are country gentlemen who go so far as to 

 have the old birds shot in August (when they can readily be dis- 

 tinguished even in the most forward coveys), well knowing that a 

 jealous old pair of partridges will take possession of as much ground 

 in spring, as would suffice for nearly half-a-dozen young couples ; 

 especially if the latter belong to the same covey, and are therefore 

 accustomed to associate together ; for, contrary to the general laws 

 of nature, these birds breed in and in. 



405. Old hen pheasants should also be killed off : they are barren, 

 and are accused of sucking the eggs of the younger birds. They 

 may be readily distinguished by their deeper and more brilliant 

 plumage. As a case in point, 



406. I know of a gentleman going to the North to reside on a 

 small property, where the game had not been preserved for years. 

 He at once engaged a clever keeper, who joined him immediately 

 after the conclusion of the shooting season. In a few days the 

 latter requested to see his master. 



" Well, George, I fear you don't find much game." 



The other replied, in broad Yorkshire dialect, " No-o, sir, no 

 n6t mutch. 'A' been thruff (through) t' covers, and seen some auld 

 budds and, please, sir, I'd loike to shut 'em." 



The gentleman started. " Shoot them ! That's an odd way of 

 preserving them, unless indeed you intend to stuff them. Are 

 you mad ? There may be only a few birds, but I suppose a few are 

 better than none." 



"No-o, sir, no they beant. A few auld budds is wuss than 

 none." 



" How's that ? What do you mean ? " 



" Well, I tell'e, sir t' auld uns be so stri^id -jealous verre (very) 

 t' missis is surnames (sometimes) ees verre I sure she is. They 

 fght t' young uns, and can't do with strangers no how. Folks say 



