The Hunting Year 



shooting a partridge when the evening stroll with 

 the gun begins ; all the sportsman's thoughts are 

 of an early start on the morrow as he saunters 

 homeward with the couple of rabbits he wanted 

 in his shooting-jacket pocket. Then suddenly 

 up gets a fine covey ; involuntarily the gun goes 

 up to the sportsman's shoulder and a right and 

 left are neatly dropped almost before he is aware 

 that he has shot a partridge out of season. And 

 I ask anyone whose fortune it has been to take 

 an active part in such an adventure if it does 

 not remain firmly impressed upon his mind; if 

 he does not remember the scene — the sinking 

 August sun, the mellow sky, the plantation 

 bathed in the light of the dying day, and the 

 quick whirr of wings followed by what latter- 

 day journalists love to describe as the pop-pop 

 of the rifle, and the two plump birds dropping 

 on the stubble. I ask him if this scene does not 

 bring happier memories with it than the best 

 day he ever had in the turnips. 



Again, late in September, when beating a 

 hedge, especially a boundary hedge, a pheasant 



will occasionally rise amongst a covey of part- 



40 



