moreover, is slower than that of his red relative, and while a partridge or a red grouse skims low over the heath a blackcock mounts steadily, and so presents a far simpler mark. His flights too are short, and if flushed repeatedly he soon refuses to rise at all, and resorts to pedestrianism pure and simple. Indeed at one time Dartmoor herdsmen were actually in the habit of running black game down with cattle-dogs-a trick only too easily practised, careful marking being all that is required. The mountain fox catches them in much the same way, and the birds have another curious weakness by means of which whole packs are destroyed by poachers human and furred.

It was told to me by an old moor guide of unimpeachable veracity, from whom I have heard many strange tales of the woodcraft practised long ago when game abounded on the ranges and he, like many others, lived entirely by his gun. There was little 'swaling' in those days. Over many thousand-acre sweeps luxuriant heather stretched unbroken, cropping up here and there in tall dense brakes through which no pointer could work. These were the great strongholds of the black game, and the young birds who took refuge in such cover were seldom flushed again.

There one would suppose the matter ended. But not 80 where professional sportsmen' of my informant's type were concerned. His business was to get game for market by fair means or foul, and failing the gun, there were other ways. According to this man, when a young grouse gains thick cover it does not run, but squats close upon the ground, trusting to absolute stillness for self-preservation. It will not stir a feather no matter how near an enemy may come, and may be caught without difficulty if one has any idea of its whereabouts. Upon one occasion my friend marked a pack into a brake covering about a quarter of an acre, and while an accomplice waited outside for possible fliers he hunted about, and picked up no less than seven well-grown birds. He told me the story without shame or reserve, thinking nothing of it, and I have no reason to doubt its truth.

The explanation, of course, is simple. The habit of hiding becomes so fixed in the young birds that they

16

GAME BIRDS AND WILD FOWL

adhere to it long after their wings have grown. Doub less it stands them in good stead at times, but like man wiser creatures, they are not always content to leav well alone. When a young grouse sees danger afar a often as not he crows a challenge. Then should th intruder approach, he sits tight until almost steppe upon. It is possible to walk into the very midst of pack, and shoot one bird after another as they tak unwilling wing. In these matters their habits var according to the nature of the country. Where there i less cover they fly far more readily, and no game bird i capable of longer flight than the blackcock when h chooses to use his wings. Years ago, when black gam were more numerous both here and on Exmoor, the crossed freely from one forest to another, and durin favourable weather were often seen flying over, high in the gale.

Many other wild birds besides black game are difficul to flush from really heavy cover. Young mallards whe have never been shot at or had much occasion to fly dis play an aptitude at dodging and hiding which puts th wiles of any game bird to shame. The mallard, wh figures as the frontispiece of Mr Thorburn's book, is remarkable bird, easily fooled in some ways, in others a crafty and resourceful as a fox. Quite recently I saw proof of his elusiveness on a little northern mere, wher wild fowl abound though the place is practically un known. It is a quiet piece of water, formerly used a a decoy of which few traces remain to-day; but eve now the wild birds come still from force of long custom though neither protected nor encouraged.

It was my first visit, and with the stranger's usua luck I walked right into the ducks, whereas upo ordinary occasions the most careful stalking might hav yielded nothing but disappointment. Tall woods, grow old since the days when they served to screen the fowler' device, encircle the little lake, and through these I ap proached cautiously and looked out over the water. one end where the reed growth was thick some coot were preening themselves, but apart from them there wa nothing to be seen. The pool upon whose surface the surrounding trees were mirrored with startling vivid ness lay undisturbed in the early-October sunshine, and

I was strolling carelessly towards the coots, when from a little reedy bay, hitherto concealed by intervening willows, a wild drake rose with a harrk-harrk which startled up as fine a flock of home-reared mallards as one ever sees nowadays in this country. Having seen nobody they were not really alarmed, but rose in a leisurely manner, as if told to move on. Even so, by accident or design, they flew in such a manner from where I stood that some high trees intersected their line of flight, and though they swept full across my front there was no chance to shoot.

After flying the length of the pool-a matter of some seven hundred yards-they circled high over a wood beyond, then, seeing no better resting-place, swung in again, and winding down 'the spiral staircase of the winds,' re-alighted on the water at the farther end. They settled down and for a while I watched them there. They were indeed a tempting sight-sixty or seventy splendid birds, resting calmly within easy shot of the bank-and nothing seemed simpler than to stalk round under cover of the trees and surprise them again, perhaps with better success. The circuit was accomplished after some trouble, but all the time I had an uneasy Conviction that I was not getting much nearer the game. Now and again a low quack from somewhere on the water suggested that they too were moving round at a pace commensurate with my advance, so it was no surprise when, gaining a point near their original position, I looked in vain for any sign of them.

That they had not taken flight was certain, and thinking they must still be skulking somewhere in the sedges, I commenced an exhaustive search. I had no dog, but the reed growth was nowhere so extensive that one could not reach any part with sticks or stones, to which at last I had recourse. Nothing availed, however; startled coots and moorhens splashed about, or went spattering over the water, but the ducks had disappeared, and in the end, completely mystified, I was obliged to admit defeat. And mystified I should have remained until this day, had not accident solved the riddle.

From the most open point on all the shore-the one outlet which owing to its very openness I had not made good-a little ditch a foot or two wide ran from the

lake to water some adjoining meadows, and by mer chance when on my homeward way I followed its cours for a quarter of a mile. I had long given up all though of the ducks, seeking only the shortest way across th grazing marshes, when a wild commotion of wings drev my eyes towards a swampy hollow a couple of gunshot ahead, from which to my amazement the flock clattere up like one bird and thundered away. While I was try ing one end of the reed-bed they had doubtless slippe out from the other, and paddling up this obviously negli gible water-way, made good their escape.

On this occasion I noticed that one bird, probabl the drake that had been the first to rise, alighted o the water considerably nearer to me than the others, a though the better to observe my movements, and doubt less it was his suspicious espionage which kept the flocker informed. He was, I think, the only one that ha actually seen me, which accounted for his peculia vigilance. My own experience does not bear out the popular notion that wild fowl post sentinels or anything of that kind. One often sees birds on the outskirts of feeding flock which appear to be acting in some such capacity, but observation has convinced me that these are either full-fed members who have withdrawn from the crowd or late arrivals, newcomers hanging round a little uncertain of their reception. I have repeatedly noticed, moreover, that when one of these supposed sentinels sniffs danger, as often as not he slips away and says nothing. Doubtless, outside birds become senti nels automatically; but as for any deliberate attempt at organisation, such theories originate from fairy tales Any attempt to humanise Nature leads inevitably to a false conception of the whole scheme of things in the animal kingdom, which works upon far simpler but no less wonderful lines.

Concerning the pochard, this species is described in Mr Thorburn's book as 'not so wary as some others of its family.' It is worthy of remark, however, that in one respect at least this bird is particularly wideawake. Pochards are, I believe, the only ducks that cannot be taken in large numbers in a decoy. They can be enticed into the 'pipe' just as readily as other ducks, and appear to take an even livelier interest in the gambols of the

decoy dog, and when the fowler-if one can rightly apply the term to any one who takes birds by such means-discloses himself they dash up the narrowing passage with all the reckless abandonment of the mallard. But when all too soon the end is reached. and the meshes of the fateful funnel net obstruct their further passage, then comes the difference. While mallard, widgeon, and teal beat into the net with frenzied wing, becoming more and more hopelessly entangled, pochards almost invariably 'fly back,' and heedless of the fowler, retrace their way down the pipe and out to safety. A drop-net across the passage is sometimes tried, I am told, but in that case they merely dive under the obstacle and pass unscathed.

The dog's part in decoy work is an interesting one, and I have often wondered how the idea originated, and what in the first place suggested it. Was it taken from Nature? Who shall say? We only know that similar methods have been practised in the wild since time immemorial. Readers of The Jungle Book' will remember the big python's hunger dance, by which even the panther and the bear were affected. That was precisely the same thing on a larger scale, nor is the power to attract' its victims confined to snakes. The fox, a past-master of such craft, knows how to bring tame or wild ducks to shore by employing tactics differing little from those of the dog at the 'jumps.' Mr Long, in his admirable book 'Beasts of the Field,' gives a most attractive description of the proceeding. A cat again lures small birds to grief by executing a series of body passes, and the same performance is acted on a minor scale by a common weasel. We call it curiosity which induces birds to approach an animal under such circumstances, and say that a snake exercises a form of hypnotism, but in each case both process and effect are identical.

Whether it is really a case of 'attraction' at all is open to question. Flocks of birds, as everybody knows, vill mob any rapacious creature, and I am by no means sure that hunting animals have not learned to turn this to advantage. If so, therein lies the whole secret. For example, when a flock of finches catch sight of a cat or stoat prowling through the woods, there is an immedia te