320 PHEASANTS 



the summit of the rock, and stands at 

 gaze, looking long on us down below, 

 before turning back to bound away 

 through the wood, her advent among 

 the beaters greeted with a confused 

 medley of sounds, which no discipline 

 may serve to restrain. Another wood- 

 cock, swinging out across the open sky, 

 collapses to a double shot, and falls far 

 below in a tangled thicket. A bad bird 

 to pick, for even if he has not lodged 

 among the close branches, the lurking 

 rabbit will probably seduce the dog from 

 the somewhat irksome duty of hunting 

 for a bird so little to his liking. 



A single cock pheasant announces the 

 opening of the real business in hand, and 

 departs into space without harm or hurt. 

 Obviously these are birds of some quality, 

 with height, pace, and curl all to be 

 considered before the gun can hope to 

 get on terms with them. A thin stream 

 of pheasants soon begins to wing its 

 way from the warm young covert above 

 towards the valley below. From where 



