174 THE OPEN AIR. 



them, and feeble as it was — grass only — it shut off 

 the interior of the cover as firmly as iron bars. The 

 pheasant is a strong lock upon the woods ; like one 

 of Chubb's patent locks, he closes the woods as firmly 

 as an iron safe can be shut. Wherever the pheasant 

 is artificially reared, and a great "head" kept up 

 for battue- shooting, there the woods are sealed. No 

 matter if the wanderer approach with the most 

 harmless of intentions, it is exactly the same as if 

 he were a species of burglar. The botanist, the 

 painter, the student of nature, all are met with the 

 high-barred gate and the threat of law. Of course, 

 the pheasant-lock can be opened by the silver key; 

 still, there is the fact, that since pheasants have been 

 bred on so large a scale, half the beautiful woodlands 

 of England have been fastened up. Where there is 

 no artificial rearing there is much more freedom ; 

 those who love the forest can roam at their pleasure, 

 for it is not the fear of damage that locks the gate, 

 but the pheasant. In every sense, the so-called sport 

 of battue-shooting is injurious — injurious to the 

 sportsman, to the poorer class, to the community. 

 Every true sportsman should discourage it, and indeed 

 does. I was talking with a thorough sportsman 

 recently, who told me, to my delight, that he never 

 reared birds by hand ; yet he had a fair supply, and 

 could always give a good day's sport, judged as any 

 reasonable man would judge sport. Nothing must 

 enter the domains of the hand-reared pheasant ; even 

 the nightingale is not safe. A naturalist has recorded 

 that in a district he visited, the nightingales were 

 always shot by the keepers and their eggs smashed, 



