2574 Birds. 



for a future number, and I now take leave of the volume, heartily recommending it to 

 the perusal of my readers. 



" Some years ago, when snipe-shooting on a range of strictly preserved bogs in 

 the west of Ireland, the merlin was, I may say, my daily companion. I find, by re- 

 ference to memoranda of that date, that I commenced operations in the beginning of 

 November, generally taking the field about eleven o'clock in the morning, and bagging 

 on an average from ten to twenty couple of snipes during the day, besides a few hares, 

 woodcocks and wild ducks. I well remember the first time the merlin made his ap- 

 pearance with the obvious intention of sharing my sport. I had just entered one of 

 those wet moors — surrounded by partially cultivated land — which in favourable wea- 

 ther are much more productive of sport than the extensive ' red bogs,' when a couple 

 of snipe rose near the margin. Bang, bang, went both my barrels, and while one 

 bird fell dead, the other, slightly but perceptibly wounded, ascended to a considerable 

 height, and from the direction of its flight was evidently preparing to drop in a marsh 

 which I had just left. While my eyes were fixed upon its movements I perceived a 

 merlin advancing rapidly towards it, and struggling through the air, as if afraid that 

 in spite of its exertions it would still be too late. The snipe, although wounded, yet 

 attempted to ascend higher, but finding itself unequal to the task, yielded, as it were, 

 to the breeze which was blowing freshly at the moment, and — contrary to its usual 

 habit — flying down wind with extraordinary rapidity, seemed to trust to speed for its 

 escape : but swift as it was, its enemy was swifter still, and when after the lapse of a 

 few seconds the two birds had become like specks in the distant sky, I could perceive 

 that one of these gradually gained on the other, touched it, and then both melted into 

 one larger dot, which slowly descended to the ground. 



" ' Ah ! ' cried my Celtic attendant, ' that's the snipe hawk' — using an Irish word 

 which I now forget, but which, when interpreted, bore that signification — * and a brave 

 little chap he is.' Then suddenly turning round, he bestowed a volley of curses — 

 varied with a few whistles — on a wild young setter who was galloping incontinently 

 over the yet unbeaten ground, turning a deaf ear to all Pat's imprecations, while she 

 treated with equal disregard the significant movements of old Pluto, a veteran 

 pointer, who, with stiff tail and protruded muzzle, was advancing cautiously towards 

 a bed of rushes, and just beginning to settle down into a comfortable point. I need 

 hardly tell you that at that moment the hawk was forgotten for the snipe, and it was 

 not until the afternoon, in a distant bog, that I again recognized my little friend, the 

 merlin, hovering about, and every now and then appearing about to leave us, but as 

 quickly returning, and evidently hanging on in expectation of our starting some of 

 his favourite game. As for the snipe, they lay like stones while he continued over- 

 head ; old Pluto pointed them one after another, even Fan condescended to ' back,' 

 and I had to kick them up under the nose of the former, as they sprang reluctantly 

 from the rushes, and presented a succession of the most satisfactory shots imaginable ; 

 which was the more gratifying as they had been unusually wild during the previous 

 part of the day. After bagging several, at last one rose at a considerable distance — 

 quite out of shot — and away went the merlin after it. We watched the chase for a 

 long time, both birds appearing equally matched, but they disappeared before it came 

 to a close, and the shades of evening soon afterwards reminded me that I had five 

 miles to walk home before dinner. 



" Well, on my return a few days afterwards, there was the merlin again on the 



