Startled at seeing me so close, he flew straight down along the summit
of the bushes--a splendid chance to look at from a distance; but in
throwing up the gun a projecting briar caught the barrels, and before I
could recover it the bird came down at the side of the hedge.
It was another magnificent chance; but again three pollard willows
interfered, and as I fired the bark flew off one of them in small
strips. Quickened by the whistling pellets, the cock suddenly lifted
himself again to the top of the hedge to go over, and for a moment came
full in view, and quite fifty yards away. I fired a snap shot as a
forlorn hope, and lost sight of him; but the next instant I heard Orion
call, 'He's down!' One single chance pellet had dropped the cock--he
fell on the other side just under the hedge.
We hastened back to the brook, thinking that the shooting would attract
the keepers, and did not stay to look at the bird till safe over the
water. The long beak, the plumage that seems painted almost in the exact
tints of the dead brown leaves he loves so well, the eyes large by
comparison and so curiously placed towards the poll of the head as if to
see behind him--there was not a point that did not receive its share of
admiration. We shot about half a dozen rabbits, two more hares, and a
woodpigeon afterwards; but all these were nothing compared with the
woodcock.
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