70 MELTON AND HOMESPUN 



however, still alive, but wet and bedraggled from its 

 immersion in the muddy drain— a very poor beginning, 

 especially as the eleven birds remaining have crossed 

 over to the adjoining land, upon which I have not the 

 sporting rights. Better luck next time, perhaps. 



A second covey rises from near the headland, but a 

 good two gunshots distant from me. The birds settle 

 in the centre of a patch of late and still standing oats, 

 and, having marked them down, I have perforce to 

 leave them there. Near one corner of the wheat stubble 

 lies a small reed-fringed pond, and, with the intention 

 of affording the old spaniel an opportunity of hunting 

 for a moorhen, I take her over to the place. Scarcely 

 has " Jet " entered the clump of sedges than, to my sur- 

 prise, a bunch of five wild duck spring therefrom. In 

 less time than it takes to record the fact, a couple are 

 floating on the weedy surface of the pond paddles 

 upward, while a third duck, after carrying on bravely 

 for some little distance, flutters on to the stubble and 

 commences to waddle towards the nearest hedgerow. 

 " Jet " retrieves the dead ones from the water in good 

 style, and then starts off in pursuit of the cripple and 

 brings it to hand as tenderly as though she loved it. 

 The finding of those mallard proved a very pleasant sur- 

 prise, for during the several seasons I have exploited the 

 shooting in question, never a feather of more import- 

 ance than a moorhen or dabchick have I seen on the 

 pond. I more than half suspect that the duck strayed 

 from some neighbouring farm, as the majority of the 

 farmers in the district rear a few mallard by hand, and 

 even hand-reared wild duck will wander. 



While I am in the act of stowing away the broad bills 



