CUNNING COCK PHEASANTS 293 



No bird is more artful than an old cock pheasant, or 

 better able to take care of himself. At this season a 



solitary cock may be observed night after 

 Cunning night roosting in some isolated tree, out in 

 Phea- *ke wind-swept fields, and far from the 

 sants sheltered coverts. Yet you may hunt this 



bird all day, high and low, in vain. When, 

 on the way home, you pass his dark form on a lonely 

 perch, you feel he deserves to rest in peace. Some- 

 times the old cock is over-cunning, or too confident 

 in the safety of his retreat. He may allow one to 

 approach within a few feet, although he certainly 

 heard footsteps in time to make his escape. A certain 

 keeper can tell many tales of the inglorious ends of 

 his cunning cock pheasants, but most of these episodes 

 are better forgotten. 



Winter flocks of pigeons are here to-day and gone 

 to-morrow, travelling far in search of food. If they 



find little or no beech-mast or acorns, they 

 Gr8ens are forced early in winter to a diet of salad. 



It must be a relief to the wandering hosts 

 when they come to a place where acorns are in plenty. 

 In hard winters, turnips supply a great part of wood- 

 pigeons' food ; and it used to be held that from this 

 food their flesh acquired too pronounced a flavour, 

 so that nice judges, who at other times thought 

 them a delicate dish, would reject them. One old- 



