78 NATURE AND WOODCRAFT. 



spaniel, and myself. The day and its anticipa- 

 tions were just such as we could drink in to 

 the fullest, We knew and mutually understood 

 each other, so that each would work to the 

 gun of each, and the dog to both. 



Our way lay over the snow, through low 

 scrub of bright chestnut oaks, glowing with 

 colour. Picking the acorns from beneath the 

 trees, a brace of Pheasants went away. Both 

 birds were bagged, though after the towering 

 cock I had to send my second barrel, as a 

 badly broken wing did not at first stop him. 

 The hen fell dead to Phil as it topped the 

 bushes. There is no gainsaying the beauty of 

 the pheasant of our woodlands, and, with the 

 frost, the iridescence of the plumage is perfect. 

 A flock of burnished Wood-pigeons flew wildly 

 from the beeches, though far out of range. 

 Then we have a spell of sharp shooting. 

 Rabbits rush across the rides, and are rolled 

 over as they pass through. Saplings of oak 

 and hazel do not stay our firing, the shot 

 cutting through these and killing beyond. For 

 a time, on the hillside, sharp shooting is com- 

 pulsory, and a dozen more rabbits are added to 

 the bag. Then we emerge from the coppice and 



