CHAPTER XIV 



1NOW approach one phase of my varied experiences, 

 which may cause the cold eye of condemnation to be 

 bent upon me ; to wit, that which found me rather ardently 

 occupied in the much discussed pastime of trap-shooting. 

 I say advisedly " pastime," since its most enthusiastic sup- 

 porters never for a moment looked upon it as a sport. 



It was simply and solely a competition requiring hands, 

 nerve and eye. One which is the finest training in the world 

 for almost any kind of game shooting. 



Those who profess to look upon this exercise as requiring a 

 mere knack or trickiness to ensure success, and who affect 

 to believe that the most distinguished of pigeon shots could 

 never hold their own against the accepted cracks at the butts 

 or the covert rises are, to use a vulgarism, " talking through 

 their hats." 



It has been my lot to mark all manner of gunning and I 

 can assert, with assurance, that I have never yet come across 

 a first-rate pigeon shot, who was not a deadly performer 

 with the gun at any and every form of small game shooting. 



Per contra, I have frequently seen men with great repu- 

 tations as " field " shots, who proved veritable " wash-outs " 

 when their alleged skill was put to the test at the traps. 



My pen has, times out of number, protested against the 

 distinction drawn between the sport of " free shooting " and 

 the pastime of pigeon competitions. When and where the 

 question of cruelty arises such distinction is invidious and 

 illogical in the extreme. I have pointed out that the 

 ordinary pheasant battue (where a holocaust of feather is 

 systematically arranged for ; where the birds are methodi- 

 cally shepherded to fixed rises, and where a certain percentage 

 escape sorely wounded) compares very unfavourably with 



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