WOOD-PIGEONS AND WILD-FOWL _ 165 
field. So blinding was the snow for a while that I 
was able to get within range of the outside birds of 
the flock by walking straight towards them in the 
open. But I did not want to shoot one, or perhaps 
two pigeons, on the ground ; so I worked the flock 
against the wind and snow over a hedge into the 
next field. I knew that they must be very thick 
just beyond that hedge. I got past a wide gap 
during an extra flurry of snow, and crept down the 
hedge till I knew that I must be opposite where the 
birds should be. But the snow, which had been so 
obliging, now proved a hindrance to my high hopes ; 
so thickly did it coat the hedge that I could make 
out no more than two indistinct pigeon-forms, quite 
near enough, but not close together; so I had to 
fire at a venture. Hundreds—I might almost say 
thousands—of pigeons swept over me down-wind, 
and I got one with the other barrel. Imagine my 
surprise when I went round the hedge to find seven 
dead pigeons. I would have given a week’s wages 
to have had a fair and square double, at that range, 
into the ‘blue,’ which must have covered the white 
for half an acre. 
There was nothing that appealed to me so much 
as the chance of a shot at wild-fowl—probably 
because I seldom had it. The sight of a couple of 
duck once a year was about the extent of my 
chance. But never shall I forget one first of 
August. I happened to remember that duck-shoot- 
