WILD-SHOOTING IN WINTER. 81 



and here, through the turnips, a Hare comes 

 lopping by the fence. We stand motionless as 

 it makes towards us in a series of lateral leaps. 

 It nibbles the herbage in its track, and then, 

 getting wind of us, stops, stamps, and rears 

 itself on its haunches. In the very act of 

 bounding away it rolls over stone dead. 



A sentinel-like Heron, which stands gaunt 

 and motionless on one leg in the icy stream, 

 rises and flaps over, but is allowed to pass. This 

 lonely fisher of the tarns and streams has now- 

 enough of cruel want without being shot at. 

 Over the next fence is a secluded sheet of 

 water, which usually harbours ducks. This 

 we approach stealthily. A shot from each 

 brings down a brace of Teal as they rise from 

 the reeds, though we restrain our hands at a 

 Kingfisher as she shoots up the beck. A pair 

 of Dippers paddle along the pebbles, and, fol- 

 lowing the progress of the stream that feeds 

 the tarn, a Golden-eye Duck and a great Black- 

 backed Gull reward us. The runner brings us 

 down to the green rocks by the bay, under 

 which we intend to lie and wait for the in- 

 coming birds. The white foam of the tide 

 creeps on in the distance, and with it the wild 



