SHOOTING IN ALBANIA. 



D. G. CARY-ELWKS, F.S.A. 



On returning from China, in 1861, a 

 brother officer and I found it cold, winter- 

 ing in England. Having been quartered at 

 Corfu, a few years previous, we decided to 

 revisit that lovely spot. There we would 

 hire a yacht and cross to Albania, to shoot 

 woodcock and any other game we might 

 find. 



We went by the way of Vienna and 

 Trieste, where we took steamer for Corfu. 

 Arrangements were soon made for a yacht, 

 crew and all. A noted shikari, known as 

 Peter, was also hired. He could speak 

 Greek, Turkish and Albanian, besides be- 

 ing acquainted with the country. Aside 

 from the usual outfit for such trips, we had 

 a motley crew of dogs: a worthless re- 

 triever, ditto cocker spanial — brought from 

 England — and 2 clumber spaniels — well 

 known dogs in Corfu. 



On the evening after sailing, we arrived 

 in Butrinto, Albania, and anchored near the 

 classic ground where Virgil makes ^Eneas 

 meet Helenus, the son of Priam. However, 

 our thoughts were on sports and not clas- 

 sics. 



In the morning we landed and hunted 

 woodcock, but found few birds. It was a 

 bad year for them, though we could usually 

 count on 10 or 12 brace a day. In a favor- 

 able season, a good shot has killed 60 to 70 

 brace in a day. 



Our stay was short here. Anchor was 

 weighed, and we sailed Southward, along 

 the coast, landing at various points, making 

 excursions inland. On one of these trips 

 we hunted wild pigs. Soon after leaving 

 the coast, traveling on mules and ponies, I 

 missed our terrier. Riding back about a 

 mile, I found the poor fellow hung by his 

 long hair, in a bramble. He was of a kind 

 that never yelped when hurt; and he would 

 probably have died there, had I not gone 

 back. 



That night Peter arranged with a native 

 Albanian to let us sleep in his cabin. We 

 had a lively time between smoke — for which 

 there was no outlet — and fleas. These pests 

 were the thickest I have ever seen them. 



In the morning the natives were in a state 

 of excitement. They were going on a hunt 

 of some kind. My friend was taken in one 

 direction, to be stationed, I in another. I 

 was placed in a jungle of tall reeds, not 

 knowing what to expect, but with a hazy 

 surmise that pigs would be driven that 

 way. 



After about half an hour, I heard a crack- 

 ling of leaves and a stealthy tread. Pres- 

 ently a huge beast, nearly as big as a calf, 

 and looking something like one of the native 

 dogs, stalked past almost within reach. He 



was red, with short curly hair; but as I 

 had not been led to expect any such animal, 

 and thought it might be one of the hounds, 

 I let it go. 



Ten minutes later I again heard a stealthy 

 tread. Imagine my disgust at seeing a 

 hound pass on the trail of the first brute. 

 He was followed by a party of native beat- 

 ers, who came up in wild excitement to 

 learn if I had seen anything. When, by 

 Peter's help, the situation was explained to 

 them, they were furious. It was some time 

 before I could find out the cause of the 

 trouble. The animal I let pass was an enor- 

 mous wolf, which had been devastating the 

 flocks of the natives. 



Later in the day I got a shot at a deer on 

 a ledge, from which it tumbled over a preci- 

 pice. The beaters hunted for it, but de- 

 clared they could not run it down. I sus- 

 pected, however, they did and kept it. 



From here we returned to the yacht and 

 got under way that night, going Southward, 

 as far as Arta, the chief town of Albania. 

 We introduced ourselves to the acting con- 

 sul for England, a Turkish Albanian. He 

 assured us woodcock were plentiful in the 

 neighborhood, and said he would show us 

 some sport next day. 



We started early with him, but soon 

 found there was little sport to be had, for 

 the cover was light. Our host astonished 

 us by stopping suddenly and pointing ex- 

 citedly to the ground in front. He told us 

 to shoot, but as neither my friend nor I 

 could see anything to shoot at, he was pur- 

 suaded to do so himself. The result was a 

 woodcock killed, the only one seen during 

 the day. 



That afternoon we sailed Northward, 

 toward Corfu. One evening we anchored 

 at a small island, where, Peter told us, a 

 rare kind of sport could be had. Just before 

 dusk we landed and went up a steep ascent, 

 from the summit of which we looked down 

 on a bay about 300 feet below. A sheer 

 wall rose from the beach. The water was 

 covered with ducks. 



Scattered about on the cliff were numer- 

 ous natives, each having a stick, which they 

 presently made good use of. 



Just as it began to grow dark the ducks 

 commenced to take wing, rising toward 

 where we were stationed. The fun began 

 as soon as they reached the top of the cliff. 

 The natives, by swishing their sticks back 

 and forth at the edge, succeeded in knock- 

 ing down a number of them. We waited 

 until the birds cleared the cliff, then shot as 

 they descended the incline. We killed 3 or 

 4 each, while the natives, with their primi- 

 tive weapons, secured more than that. 



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