The partridge is a cunning bird,
He likes not those who bring him down:
From age to age he has preferred
The shots that blaze into the brown,
Whose stocks come never shoulder high,
Who never pause to pick and choose,
But on whose biceps you descry
The black, the blue, the tell-tale bruise.
Or should a stubborn cartridge swell,
And jam, as it may chance, your gun,
The sly old partridge knows it well,
"Great Scott!" he seems to chirp "here's fun!"
He gathers all his feathered tribe,
They leave the stubble or the grass,
And with one wild and whirling gibe
Above your silent muzzles pass.
Your scheme you carefully contrive,
And, while each beater waves his flag,
Your fancy, as they duly drive,
Already sees a record bag.
But lo! they baulk your keen desire,
For, though with birds the sky grows black,
Not one of them will face the fire,
And every blessed bird goes back.
For partridges I'll try no more;
Why should I waste in grim despair?
Take me to far Albania's shore,
And let me bag the woodcock there.
Or on the Susquehanna's stream
I'll shoot with every chance of luck
The gourmet's glory and his dream,
The canvas-back, that juicy duck.
Yea, any other bird I'll shoot,
But not again with toil and pain
I'll tramp the stubble or the root.
Nor wait behind a fence in vain.
For of all birds you hit or miss
(I've tried it out by every test),
Again I say with emphasis
The partridge is the cunningest.
* * * * *
[Illustration: HINTS TO BEGINNERS.--When going out before daylight after
ducks, waders are advisable. Also, better tell your wife she need not
come down (just when you expect the ducks) and ask if you are sure you
are not getting your feet wet.]
* * * * *
[Illustration: A NOVELTY
_Mr. Cylinder_ (_who always uses his host's cartridges_). "What powder
are these loaded with, my boy?"
_Beater._ "Ar doan't rightly know; but ar think they calls it serdlitz
pooder!"]
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Disgusted Keeper_ (_who has just beaten up a brace or so
of pheasants, which young Snookson has missed "clane and clever"--to
dog, which has been "going seek" and "going find" from force of habit_).
"Ah, Ruby, Ruby, bad dog! T' heel, Ruby, t' heel! Ah must apologise for
Ruby, sir. You see, Ruby's been accustomed to pick 'em up!"]
* * * * *
[Illustration: An extended tract of moor]
* * * * *
[Illustration: A second laying]
* * * * *
[Illustration: Heavy bags are difficult to secure]
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Extract from a private letter._ "Our bag on the first
was _barely_ up to the average, although the mater, Milly, and self were
out to help the men. We hunted in couples and threes, as it is a bit
dull tramping along alone. And as the mater generally foozles her shots,
I did most of her work too. By the way, how absurdly nervous men are
'gunning.'"]
* * * * *
[Illustration: MR. MUGGS ON PARTRIDGE DRIVING
"What I like about the modern system of driving is the nice rest you can
have between the beats."]
* * * * *
[Illustration: LITTLE CHICKMOUSE RASHLY ACCEPTS THE OFFER OF A DAY'S
PARTRIDGE-SHOOTING.--_Gamekeeper_ (_to Little C., who has kicked up a
hare_)._ "Now for it, sir!"
_Chickmouse_ (_who finds he can't get over his horror of firearms_)._
"Well--fact is--I'd rather you'd----Look 'ere, you 'old the gun, and
I'll pull the thingummy!!"]
* * * * *
[Illustration: "A HIT! A PALPABLE HIT!"
"Oh, I beg your pardon! I did not see you, sir!"
"See me! Confound it, sir, you can see _through_ me now!"]
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE STATE OF THE GAME.--_Lady Customer._ "How much are
grouse to-day, Mr. Jiblets?"
_Poulterer._ "Twelve shillings a brace, ma'am. Shall I send them----"
_Lady Customer._ "No, you need not send them. My husband's out
grouse-shooting, and he'll call for them as he comes home!"]
* * * * *
[Illustration: EDUCATED. (_From a Yorkshire moor_).--_Keeper_ (_to the
Captain, who has missed again, and is letting off steam in
consequence_). "Oh dear! Oh dear! It's hawful to see yer missin' of 'em,
sir; but"--(_with admiration_)--"ye're a scholard i' langwidge, sir!"]
* * * * *
[Illustration: SELF-CONFIDENCE OUT SHOOTING.--_Nephew._ "Jump, uncle!
I'll clear you!"
[_But he didn't "clear" him, and old Brown says he'll carry the marks to
his grave!_
]
* * * * *
[Illustration: "I don't know what it is, Mark, but I can't hit a bird
to-day!"
"Let's see your gun, sir. Ah!--well, I'd try what you could do _with
some cartridges in it_, if I was you, sir!"]
* * * * *
[Illustration: BREAKING IT GENTLY.--_Son of the House_ (_who wishes to
say something polite about our friend's astounding shooting, but who
cannot palter with the truth_). "I should think you were awfully clever
at books, sir!"]
* * * * *
[Illustration: A TRUE SPORTSMAN
(_A last shot of the season_)
_Old Pothunter._ "Always show mercy, my boy, always show mercy! Much
better to shoot 'em sitting, and save poor things a nasty fall!"
[_Does._
]
* * * * *
[Illustration: TRIALS OF A NOVICE
_Brown._ "I wish I had the moral courage to go home!"]
* * * * *
[Illustration: SPORT!--_Cockney Sportsman_ (_eager, but disappointed_).
"I say, my boy, seen any birds this way?"
_'Cute Rustic_ (_likewise anxious to make a bag_). "Oh, a rare lot,
guv'nor--a rare lot--just flew over this 'ere 'edge, and settled in that
'ere field, close to Squire Blank's ricks."
[_Cockney sportsman tips boy a shilling, and goes hopefully after ... a
flock of starlings!_
]
* * * * *
[Illustration: _His Lordship_ (_after missing his tenth rabbit_). "I'll
tell you what it is, Bagster. Your rabbits are _all two inches too
short_, hereabouts!"]
* * * * *
[Illustration: PLEASANT FOR HARRY
_Fair Sportswoman._ "Oh, Harry, I feel so excited, I scarcely know what
I am doing!"]
* * * * *
[Illustration: BLANK FIRING
_Ancient Sportsman_ (_whose sight is not what it used to be_). "Pick 'em
up, James, pick 'em up! Why don't you pick 'em up?"
_Veteran Keeper._ "'Cause there bean't any down, my lord!"]
* * * * *