THE GUN AT HOME AND ABROAD 
but here on the coast a keen black frost prevails, and scarce a breath of 
wind. The frost kills that, and the high-dried, rarified air never feels cold, 
though the thermometer has registered within 2° of zero by night, and 
never above 16° by day. Geese in thousands since 16th, and more arriving 
almost every day. 
Fired each day this week from one to four shots, all at geese, and never 
a single blank.* 
Each shot averaged eight to twelve geese gathered; the smallest four 
— there were only seven to fire at — ^while the best realized nineteen, all 
killed with nine ounces BB shot. 
Some years later, it may be pertinently added, no less than twenty -two 
geese were secured by a single shot from this small punt -gun. That 
incident occurred in March, 1886, as fully described in “ Bird-life of the 
Borders.” 
The recurrent losses of cripples and wounded fowl have been mentioned. 
Such, at times, are quite unavoidable. Fowlers, nevertheless, have some- 
times been accused of cruelty in this respect — quite unjustly, though 
the charge is probably made in complete good faith, by tender-hearted 
folk, who know nothing of the conditions. These I illustrate below; but 
may interpolate, parenthetically, that the average fowler will expend his 
last ounce of energy in recovering every single ” cripple ” he can lay 
hands on. The few that escape — either in the dark or on rotten ooze 
where he cannot follow — are either picked up by coast -gunners and other 
long -shore prowlers, or promptly devoured by birds of prey — big black - 
backs and glaucous gulls. None surely should presume to say that these 
predacious birds were created without some good purpose ? Well, here 
is the illustration — roughly transcribed from diary : 
‘‘ My brother W. and I set out together, occupying the gun-punt, and 
following -boat alternately .... at 4 p.m., after a shot at wigeon on the 
first of the ebb, W. followed three winged birds on to the ooze, which at 
that point was fairly sound — not much over ankle -deep. In the zeal of 
pursuit the tide was temporarily forgotten, and within an incredibly 
short space — four or five minutes, so fast did the ebb run off the flats, 
we were a mile apart. I aboard the punt had, of course, to keep my 
craft afloat, and now the softer intervening ooze was impassable. Nothing 
*It should perhaps be mentioned that this note dates back rather more than thirty years. No such opportunity is 
at all likely to present itself nowadays — certainly not locally. Since writing the above, it is right to add that during 
the past winter, of 1911-12, we had a wonderful show of brent geese— almost like old times ! 
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