474 
BIRD-LIFE. 
for the Blackcock kept approaching nearer and nearer; 
and when the bird was close enough I was to have a shot 
at it! The gun shook in my hand, I was so overcome 
with excitement. A hundred feelings seized me at once : 
now hope, then the contrary; now the fear that the bird 
would leave the place unscathed, or intense joy at its 
nearer approach. My old friend had become perfectly 
silent, though the brightening eye showed full well that 
he partook of the sportsman’s excitement, while at the 
same time he made signs for me to pull myself together. 
At last the quarry is near enough: “Now,” nods the 
forester, “ make sure of him ! ” The shot echoes through 
the wood—the Blackcock has stopped “playing,” and 
only gives a few convulsive movements of the wing in his 
last agony;—all is over. I rush wildly from the hut to 
secure my prize, as though I feared the dead bird might 
yet escape me. Long before the smoke has cleared off from 
the grass, I am in ambush again. In the meantime the 
forester has reloaded my gun, and begs me again to keep 
quiet, because a second bird might seek the “playing- 
ground ; ” and he was right; for before long another 
Blackcock made its appearance on the “playing-ground,” 
having probably been disturbed elsewhere; this one is 
too cautious however, and manages to keep out of shot. 
“ He is an old hand,” says the forester, “ and they are 
cunning,”—recognizing the deceptive hut. “ Look ! look ! 
There comes the Grayhen from out the thicket: she is not 
afraid of us.” Tamely and without fear the pretty creature 
runs about before us, calling softly every now and then, 
“ tak, tak, tak.” “The Grayhen will do instead of the 
Blackcock ! ”—I wanted to shoot her as well; but before I 
had time to aim the forester snatched the gun from my 
hands, and read me a solemn lecture. A Grayhen is held 
