It was full of
nut-tree bushes, very tall and thick at the top, but lower down thin, as
is usually the case when poles grow high. To fill the space a fence had
been made of stakes and bushes woven between them, and on this the
pheasant stood.
It was too far for a safe shot; in a minute he went down into the meadow
on the other side. I then crept on hands and knees towards the
nut-bushes: as I got nearer there was a slight rustle and a low hiss in
the grass, and I had to pause while a snake went by hastening for the
ditch. A few moments afterwards, being close to the hedge, I rose partly
up, and looked carefully over the fence between the hazel wands. There
was the pheasant not fifteen yards away, his back somewhat towards me,
and quietly questing about.
In lifting the gun I had to push aside a bough--the empty hoods, from
which a bunch of brown nuts had fallen, rested against the barrel as I
looked along it. I aimed at the head--knowing that it would mean instant
death, and would also avoid shattering the bird at so short a range;
besides which there would be fewer scattered feathers to collect and
thrust out of sight into a rabbit bury. A reason why people frequently
miss pheasants in cover-shooting, despite of their size, is because they
look at the body, the wings, and the tail. But if they looked only at
the head, and thought of that, very few would escape.
Pages:
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216