112 British Diving Ducks 
kill, and the gunner should possess a good water-dog to retrieve them. I have killed 
numbers of these birds by standing on the Bridge of Waithe (Orkney), which spans the 
tidal stream that joins Loch Stenness to the sea. In the morning and evening the Mergan- 
sers fly from the sea to the brackish lake and back again, and in spite of their fishy 
flavour they seemed to be much relished by the natives, or I should not have shot them. 
All the young of the Mergansers are quite good eating, in spite of their fish diet, before they 
go to sea, but after October they are unfit for the ordinary palate. The Orcadian fishermen, 
possessing an extraordinary taste in such things, seemed to relish them. At any rate, a 
present of Mergansers was always accepted with pleasure, whilst a shag (which, quite eatable 
if properly cooked) was always rejected with scorn. 
I remember an incident in connection with Merganser-shooting which was not without its 
humorous side. I had been shivering on a bitterly cold February day on the Bridge of Waithe, 
waiting for some Whooper Swans that had passed up from the sea, and which I fondly hoped 
would return in the evening and give me a shot. Nothing came, however, until dusk, when I 
observed a party of Red-breasted Mergansers flying from the lake towards the bridge. At 
the same moment I heard the rumble of wheels on the high road on which I stood, coming 
from Kirkwall, and glancing in that direction observed a " machine " containing a 
merry party of Orcadians engaged in song. Both ducks and wagonette continued to 
advance to the bridge until I began to hesitate whether I should fire or not, as the horse was 
so close to me. Now the Orcadian Bucephalus is not as a rule a highly mettled animal, 
a course of plodding on dreary roads in howling tempests subduing his proud spirit. 
So I thought I would chance a mishap and rapped in a sharp right and left at the 
Mergansers just as the travellers came behind me. I confess it was reprehensible, 
for the effect of the shots was worse than I could have imagined. I happened to 
kill both birds stone dead, the first as it came towards me, and this, hitting the horse 
on the head nearly knocked it to the ground and then terrified it out of its wits. Away 
went the machine at full speed, with the voices of the song-birds now uttering cries of woe, 
and away I rushed, hoping to head the frightened steed. It appeared that my Merganser 
had bumped the head of the only steed in Orkney that could be warmed into a gallop, but 
he was too fast for me, and luckily avoiding a crash on the bridge it skilfully grazed a tele- 
graph pole and fled into the wilderness, where, encountering a mound, it stopped slowly and 
overturned the whole party into a pool of black peat. It appears that the party consisted of 
the Sheriff's Court going to try cases in Stromness, of which I fully expected mine to be the 
first, but when the dirt was washed from the face of the first sufferer and he proved to be 
my old friend Sheriff Melliss, we all began to laugh, and after giving me a good rating, like 
a good sportsman he came back to the stream and soon forgot all about the accident 
in watching my old dog Jet retrieve the second Merganser from the sea, in which it had 
drifted afar. 
So, other lands other ways. In Putney these men would have brought an action against 
me for personal injury and shooting on the public road. In Orkney they offered me a lift 
to Stromness, after I had nearly killed them. We sang all the way, and had dinner 
together, and afterwards they took home the ducks as souvenirs. 
