298 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING 
A white or pied pheasant is a joy to a keeper ; it 
is not merely a thing of interest and beauty, but a 
means by which the behaviour of the other pheasants 
can be judged. When a conspicuous pheasant 
strays far and wide, but returns to the home wood, 
then the keeper knows that the rest of his wander- 
ing birds return. Experience leads me to believe 
that a special appeal is not always the best way of 
saving a white pheasant on shooting-days. Rooks 
have a decided liking for a white pheasant chick on 
the rearing-field. An employer who suffers from 
chronic anti-rabbit fever scarcely can be considered 
a joy, and is apt to get on his keeper’s nerves. 
Once I became so saturated with a decree that 
every rabbit should die that I forgot myself when I 
was loading at a shooting-party. 1 was looking for 
a partridge, when up jumped a rabbit, and I bowled 
him over before the eyes of the whole party—a 
gross breach of etiquette. 
I do not suppose many people have seen a mole 
in the act of gathering material for its nest. I was 
making my way through the stuff, and happened to 
stop to listen to a warning ‘cock-up’ of a distant 
pheasant, when I heard a rustling quite near me. 
I thought it must be a mouse, and waited in the 
hope of seeing it. Another rustle, and I saw a dead 
oak-leaf move. I sank on to my knees, and crawled 
to the spot. Within a yard of my face I saw the 
pinky snout of a mole; never was more than the 
