MY FIRST SHOOT 33 



it was a glorious morning, and everyone seemed in 

 good humour. I quickly put the guns together, 

 shouldered a burden of cartridge-bags, and off we 

 went. 



For the first beat we spread out over a big field 

 consisting mostly of stubble, the right-hand gun 

 forward under a long belt of beeches, which was 

 the boundary. The object was to push the birds 

 if there were any into a very long narrow strip 

 of ripening rye-grass, on the far side of a high 

 hedge. This grass was the only piece of holding 

 cover ; still, it provided not only cover, but food 

 for the birds, which therefore took to it the more 

 readily. I cannot explain how great was my relief 

 when the first covey was flushed, almost at the feet 

 of the right-hand outside gun. The birds probably 

 were dusting on the margin of the belt. Only one 

 bird was bagged. We saw one good covey and 

 two small lots on all that wide field, probably over 

 sixty acres. If I did not feel disappointed, I very 

 nearly did. Had we seen another covey or two, 

 it would not have been so bad, even if they had 

 risen miles out of shot. All I knew for certain 

 was that my fate hung on that strip of rye-grass. 



But, as it turned out, hundreds of birds must 

 have run on through the hedge into the grass, or 

 have been there before we began shooting. The 

 strip was only wide enough for one beat, but it 

 must have been a third of a mile long, so that 



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