The Confessions of a Poacher Part 2

PHEASANT POACHING.

Through late summer and autumn the poacher's thoughts go out to the early weeks of October. Neither the last load of ruddy corn, nor the actual netting of the partridge gladden his heart as do the first signs of the dying year. There are certain sections of the Game Laws which he never breaks, and only some rare circ.u.mstance tempts him to take immature birds. But by the third week of October the yellow and sere of the year has come. The duns and browns are over the woods, and the leaves come fitfully flickering down. Everything out of doors testifies that autumn is waning, and that winter will soon be upon us. The colours of the few remaining flowers are fading, and nature is beginning to have a washed-out appearance. The feathery plumes of the ash are everywhere strewn beneath the trees, for, just as the ash is the first to burst into leaf, so it is the first to go. The foliage of the oak is already a.s.suming a bright chestnut, though the leaves will remain throughout the year. In the oak avenues the acorns are lying in great quant.i.ties, though oak mast is not now the important product it once was, cheap grain having relegated it almost exclusively to the use of the birds.

And now immense flocks of wood pigeons flutter in the trees or pick up the food from beneath. The garnering of the grain, the flocking of migratory birds, the wild clanging of fowl in the night sky--these are the sights and sounds that set the poacher's thoughts off in the old grooves.

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Of all species of poaching, that which ensures a good haul of pheasants is most beset with difficulty. Nevertheless there are silent ways and means which prove as successful in the end as the squire's guns, and these without breaking the woodland silence with a sound. The most successful of these I intend to set down, and only such will be mentioned as have stood me in good stead in actual night work. Among southern woods and coverts the pheasant poacher is usually a desperate character; not so in the north. Here the poachers are more skilled in woodcraft, and are rarely surprised. If the worst comes to the worst it is a fair stand-up fight with fists, and is usually bloodless. There is little greed of gain in the night enterprise, and liberty by flight is the first thing resorted to.

It is well for the poacher, and well for his methods, that the pheasant is rather a stupid bird. There is no gainsaying its beauty, however, and a brace of birds, with all the old excitement thrown in, are well worth winning, even at considerable risk. In a long life of poaching I have noticed that the pheasant has one great characteristic. It is fond of wandering; and this cannot be prevented. Watch the birds: even when fed daily, and with the daintiest food, they wander off, singly or in pairs, far from the home coverts. This fact I knew well, and was not slow to use my knowledge. When October came round they were the very first birds to which I directed my attention. Every poacher observes, year by year (even leaving his own predaceous paws out of the question), that it by no means follows that the man who rears the pheasants will have the privilege of shooting them. There is a very certain time in the life of the bird when it disdains the scattered corn of the keeper, and begins to antic.i.p.ate the fall of beech and oak mast. In search of this the pheasants make daily journeys, and consume great quant.i.ties. They feed princ.i.p.ally in the morning; dust themselves in the roads or turnip-fields at mid-day, and ramble through the woods in the afternoon.

And one thing is certain: That when wandered birds find themselves in outlying copses in the evening they are apt to roost there. As already stated, these were the birds to which I paid my best attention. When wholesale pheasant poaching is prosecuted by gangs, it is in winter, when the trees are bare. Guns, with the barrels filed down, are taken in sacks, and the pheasants are shot where they roost. Their bulky forms stand sharply outlined against the sky, and they are invariably on the lower branches. If the firing does not immediately bring up the keepers, the game is quickly deposited in bags, and the gang makes off. And it is generally arranged that a light cart is waiting at some remote lane end, so that possible pursuers may be quickly outpaced. The great risk incurred by this method will be seen, when it is stated that pheasants are generally reared close by the keeper's cottage, and that their coverts immediately surround it. It is mostly armed mouchers who enter these, and not the more gifted (save the mark!) country poacher. And there are reasons for this. Opposition must always be antic.i.p.ated, for, speaking for the nonce from the game-keeper's standpoint, the covert never should be, and rarely is, unwatched. Then there are the certain results of possible capture to be taken into account. This affected, and with birds in one's possession, the poacher is liable to be indicted upon so many concurrent charges, each and all having heavy penalties.

Than this I obtained my game in a different and quieter way. My custom was to carefully eschew the preserves, and look up all outlying birds. I never went abroad without a pocketful of corn, and day by day enticed the wandered birds further and further away. This accomplished, pheasants may be snared with hair nooses, or taken in spring traps. One of my commonest and most successful methods with wandered birds was to light brimstone beneath the trees in which they roosted. The powerful fumes soon overpowered them, and they came flopping down the trees one by one. This method has the advantage of silence, and if the night be dead and still, is rarely detected. Away from the preserves, time was never taken into account in my plans, and I could work systematically. I was content with a brace of birds at a time, and usually got most in the end, with least chance of capture.

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I have already spoken at some length of my education in field and wood-craft. An important (though at the time unconscious) part of this was minute observation of the haunts and habits of all kinds of game; and this knowledge was put to good use in my actual poaching raids.

Here is an instance of what I mean: I had noticed the great pugnacity of the pheasant, and out of this made capital. After first finding out the whereabouts of the keeper, I fitted a trained game-c.o.c.k with artificial spurs, and then took it to the covert side. The artificial spurs were fitted to the natural ones, were sharp as needles, and the plucky bird already knew how to use them. Upon his crowing, one or more c.o.c.k pheasants would immediately respond, and advance to meet the adversary.

A single blow usually sufficed to lay low the pride of the pheasant, and in this way half-a-dozen birds were bagged, whilst my own representative remained unhurt.

I had another ingenious plan (if I may say so) in connection with pheasants, and, perhaps, the most successful. I may say at once that there is nothing sportsmanlike about it; but then that is in keeping with most of what I have set down. If time and opportunity offer there is hardly any limit to the depredation which it allows. Here it is: A number of dried peas are taken and steeped in boiling water; a hole is then made through the centre, and through this again a stiff bristle is threaded. The ends are then cut off short, leaving only about a quarter of an inch of bristle projecting on each side. With these the birds are fed, and they are greedily eaten. In pa.s.sing down the gullet, however, a violent irritation is set up, and the pheasant is finally choked. In a dying condition the birds are picked up beneath the hedges, to the shelter of which they almost always run. The way is a quiet one; it may be adopted in roads and lanes where the birds dust themselves, and does not require trespa.s.s.

In this connection I may say that I only used a gun when every other method failed. Game-keepers sometimes try to outwit poachers by a device which is now of old standing. Usually knowing from what quarter the latter will enter the covert, wooden blocks representing roosting birds are nailed to the branches of the open beeches. I was never entrapped into firing at these dummies, and it is only with the casual that the ruse acts. He fires, brings the keepers from their hiding places, and is caught. Still another method of bagging "long-tails," though one somewhat similar to that already set down: It requires two persons, and the exact position of the birds must be known. A black night is necessary; a stiff bamboo rod, and a dark lantern. One man flashes the concentrated light upon the bare branches, when immediately half a dozen necks are stretched out to view the apparition. Just then the "angler"

slips a wire nooze over the craned neck nearest him, and it is jerked down as quickly, though as silently as possible. Number two is served in like manner, then a third, a fourth, and a fifth. This method has the advantage of silence, though, if unskilfully managed, sometimes only a single bird is secured, and the rest flutter wildly off into the darkness.

Poachers often come to untimely ends. Here is an actual incident which befell one of my companions--as clever a poacher, and as decent and quiet a man as need be. I saw him on the night previous to the morning of his death, though he did not see me. It was a night at the end of October. The winds had stripped the leaves from the trees, and the dripping branches stood starkly against the sky. I was on the high road with a vehicle, when plashes of rain began to descend, and a low muttering came from out the dull leaden clouds. As the darkness increased, occasional flashes tore zig-zag across the sky, and the rain set to a dead pour. The lightning only served to increase the darkness.

I could just see the mare's steaming shoulders b.u.t.ting away in front, and her sensitive ears alternately p.r.i.c.ked out on the track. The pitchy darkness increased, I gave the mare her head, and let the reins hang loosely on her neck. The lightning was terrible, the thunder almost continuous, when the mare came to a dead stop. I got down from the trap and found her trembling violently, with perspiration pouring down her flanks. All her gear was white with lather, and I thought it best to lead her on to where I knew was a chestnut tree, and there wait for a lull in the storm. As I stood waiting, a black lurcher slunk along under the sodden hedge, and seeing the trap, immediately stopped and turned in its tracks. Having warned its master, the two reconnoitered and then came on together. The "Otter" (for it was he), bade a gruff "good-night"

to the enshrouded vehicle and pa.s.sed on into the darkness. He slouched rapidly under the rain, and went in the direction of extensive woods and coverts. Hundreds of pheasants had taken to the tall trees, and, from beneath, were visible against the sky. Hares abounded on the fallows, and rabbits swarmed everywhere. The storm had driven the keepers to their cosy hearths, and the prospect was a poacher's paradise. Just what occurred next can only be surmised. Doubtless the "Otter" worked long and earnestly through that terrible night, and at dawn staggered from the ground under a heavy load.

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Just at dawn the poacher's wife emerged from a poor cottage at the junction of the roads, and after looking about her as a hunted animal might look, made quietly off over the land. Creeping closely by the fences she covered a couple of miles, and then entered a disused, barn-like building. Soon she emerged under a heavy load, her basket, as of old, covered with crisp, green cresses. These she had kept from last evening, when she plucked them in readiness, from the spring. After two or three journeys she had removed the "plant," and as she eyed the game her eyes glistened, and she waited now only for _him_. As yet she knew not that he would never more come--that soon she would be a lone and heart-broken creature. For, although his life was one long warfare against the Game Laws, he had always been good and kind to her. His end had come as it almost inevitably must. The sound of a heavy unknown footstep on his way home, had turned him from his path. He had then made back for the lime-kiln to obtain warmth and to dry his sodden clothes.

Once on the margin he was soon asleep. The fumes dulled his senses, and in his restless sleep he had rolled on to the stones. In the morning the Limestone Burner coming to work found a handful of pure white ashes. A few articles were scattered about, and he guessed the rest.

And so the "Otter" went to G.o.d.... The storm cleared, and the heavens were calm. In the sky, on the air, in the blades of gra.s.s were signs of awakening life. Morning came bright and fair, birds flew hither and thither, and the autumn flowers stood out to the sun. All things were glad and free, but one wretched stricken thing.

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Chapter 7.

SALMON AND TROUT POACHING.

Flashes the blood-red gleam Over the midnight slaughter; Wild shadows haunt the stream; Dark forms glance o'er the water.

It is the leisterers' cry!

A salmon, ho! oho!

In scales of light, the creature bright Is glimmering below.

Most country poachers begin by loving Nature and end by hating the Game Laws. Whilst many a man is willing to recognize "property" in hares and pheasants, there are few who will do so with regard to salmon and trout.

And this is why fish poachers have always swarmed. A sea-salmon is in the domain of the whole world one day; in a trickling runner among the hills the next. Yesterday it belonged to anybody; and the poacher, rightly or wrongly, thinks it belongs to him if only he can s.n.a.t.c.h it.

There are few fish poachers who in their time have not been anglers; and anglers are of two kinds: there are those who fish fair, and those who fish foul. The first set are philosophical and cultivate patience: the second are predatory and catch fish, fairly if they can--but they catch fish.

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Just as redwings and field-fares const.i.tute the first game of young gunners, so the loach, the minnow, and the stickleback, are the prey of the young poacher. If these things are small, they are by no means to be despised, for there is a tide in the affairs of men when these "small fry" of the waters afford as much sport on their pebbly shallows as do the silvery-sided salmon in the pools of Strathspay. As yet there is no knowledge of gaff or click hook--only of a willow wand, a bit of string, and a crooked pin. The average country urchin has always a considerable dash of the savage in his composition, and this first comes out in relation to fish rather than fowl. See him during summer as he wantons in the stream like a dace. Watch where his brown legs carry him; observe his stealthy movements as he raises the likely stones; and note the primitive poaching weapon in his hand. That old p.r.o.nged fork is every whit as formidable to the loach and bullhead as is the lister of the man-poacher to salmon and trout--and the wader uses it almost as skillfully. He has a bottle on the bank, and into this he pours the fish unhurt which he captures with his hands. Examine his aquarium, and hidden among the weeds you will find three or four species of small fry.

The loach, the minnow, and the bullhead are sure to be there, with perhaps a tiny stickleback, and somewhere, outside the bottle--stuffed in cap or breeches pocket--crayfish of every age and size. During a long life I have watched the process, and this is the stuff out of which fish-poachers are made.

It is part of the wisdom of nature's economy that when furred and feathered game is "out," fish are "in." It might be thought that poachers would recognize neither times nor seasons, but this is a mistake. During fence time game is nearly worthless; and then the prospective penalties of poaching out of season have to be taken into account. Fish poaching is practised none the less for the high preservation and strict watching which so much prevails now-a-days; it seems even to have grown with them. In outlying country towns with salmon and trout streams in the vicinity, poaching is carried on to an almost incredible extent. There are men who live by it and women to whom it const.i.tutes a thriving trade. The "Otter," more thrifty than the rest of us, has purchased a cottage with the proceeds of his poaching; and I know four or five families who live by it. Whilst our cla.s.s provide the chief business of the country police courts, and is a great source of profit to the local fish and game dealer, there is quite another and a pleasanter side, to the picture. But this later. The wary poacher never starts for the fis.h.i.+ng ground without having first his customer; and it is surprising with what lax code of morals the provincial public will deal, when the silent night worker is one to the bargain. Of course the public always gets cheap fish and fresh fish, so fresh indeed that sometimes the life has hardly gone out of it. It is a perfectly easy matter to provide fish and the only difficulty lies in conveying it into the towns and villages. I never knew but what I might be met by some county constable, and consequently never carried game upon me. This I secreted in stack, rick, or disused farm building, until such time as it could be safely fetched. Country carriers, early morning milk-carts, and women are all employed in getting the hauls into town. In this women are by far the most successful. Sometimes they are seen labouring under a heavy load carried in a sack, with f.a.ggots and rotten sticks protruding from the mouth; or again, with a large basket innocently covered with crisp, green cresses which effectually hide the bright silvery fish beneath. Our methods of fish poaching are many. As we work silently and in the night, the chances of success are all in our favour. We walk much by the stream side during the day, and take mental notes of men and fish. We know the beats of the watchers, and have the water-side by heart. Long use has accustomed us to work as well in the dark as in the light, and this is essential. During summer, when the water is low, the fish congregate in deep "dubs." This they do for protection, and here, if overhung by trees, there is always abundance of food. Whenever it was our intention to net a dub, we carefully examined every inch of its bottom beforehand. If it had been "thorned," every thorn was carefully removed--small thorn bushes with stones attached, and thrown in by the watchers to entangle nets. Of course fish-poaching can never be tackled single-handed. In "long-netting" the net is dragged by a man on each side, a third wading after to lift it over the stakes, and to prevent the fish from escaping. When the end of the pool is reached the salmon and trout are simply drawn out upon the pebbles. This is repeated through the night until half-a-dozen pools are netted--probably depopulated of their fish. Netting of this description is a wholesale method of capture, always supposing that we are allowed our own time. It requires to be done slowly, however, as if alarmed we can do nothing but abandon the net. This is necessarily large, and when thoroughly wet is c.u.mbersome and exceedingly heavy. The loss of one of our large nets was a serious matter, not only in time but money. For narrow streams, a narrow net is used, this being attached to two poles. It is better to cut the poles (of ash) only when required, as they are awkward objects to carry. The method of working the "pod-net" is the same in principle as the last. The older fish poachers rarely go in for poisoning. This is a cowardly method, and kills everything, both great and small, for miles down stream. Chloride of lime is the agent mostly used, as it does not injure the edible parts. The lime is thrown into the river where fish are known to lie, and its deadly influence is soon seen. The fish, weakened and poisoned, float belly uppermost. This at once renders them conspicuous, and they are simply lifted out of the water in a landing-net. Salmon and trout which come by their death in this way have the usually pink parts of a dull white, with the eyes and gill-covers of the same colour, and covered with a fine white film. This substance is much used in mills on the banks of trout-streams, and probably more fish are "poached" by this kind of pollution in a month than the most inveterate moucher will kill in a year.

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It is only poachers of the old school that are careful to observe close times, and they do their work mostly in summer. Many of the younger and more desperate hands, however, do really serious business when the fish are out of season. When salmon and trout are sp.a.w.ning their senses seem to become dulled, and then they are not difficult to approach in the water. They seek the highest reaches to sp.a.w.n and stay for a considerable time on the sp.a.w.ning beds. A salmon offers a fair mark, and these are obtained by spearing. The p.r.o.nged salmon spear is driven into the fleshy shoulders of the fish, when it is hauled out on to the bank.

In this way I have often killed more fish in a single day than I could possibly carry home--even when there was little or no chance of detection. There is only one practicable way of carrying a big salmon across country on a dark night, and that is by hanging it round one's neck and steadying it in front. I have left tons of fish behind when chased by the watchers, as of all things they are the most difficult to carry. The best water bailiffs are those who are least seen, or who watch from a distance. So as to save sudden surprise, and to give timely warning of the approach of watchers, one of the poaching party should always command the land from a tree top.

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The flesh of sp.a.w.ning fish is loose and watery, insipid and tasteless, and rarely brings more than a few pence per pound. In an out-lying hamlet known to me, poached salmon, during last close time, was so common that the cottagers fed their poultry upon it through the winter.

Several fish were killed each over 20 lbs. in weight. Than netting, another way of securing salmon and trout from the sp.a.w.ning redds is by "click" hooks. These are simply large salmon hooks bound shaft to shaft and attached to a long cord; a bit of lead balances them and adds weight. These are used in the "dubs" when spearing by wading is impracticable. When a salmon is seen the hooks are simply thrown beyond it, then gently dragged until they come immediately beneath; when a sharp click sends them into the soft under parts of the fish, which is then dragged out. As the pike, which is one of nature's poachers, is injurious to our interests as well as those of the angler, we never miss an opportunity of treating him in the same summary manner. Of course, poaching with click-hooks requires to be done during the day, or by the aid of an artificial light. Light attracts salmon just as it attracts birds, and tar brands are frequently used by poachers. A good, rough bulls-eye lantern, to aid in spearing, can be made from a disused salmon canister. A circular hole should be made in the side, and a bit of material tied over to hide the light when not in use. Shooting is sometimes resorted to, but for this cla.s.s of poaching the habits and beats of the water bailiffs require to be accurately known. The method has the advantage of quickness, and a gun in skilful hands and at short distance may be used without injuring the fleshy parts of the fish. That deadly bait, salmon row, is now rarely used, the method of preparing it being unknown to the younger generation. It can, however, be used with deadly effect. Although both ourselves and our nets were occasionally captured, the watchers generally found this a difficult matter. In approaching our fis.h.i.+ng grounds we did not mind going sinuously and snake-like through the wet meadows, and as I have said, our nets were rarely kept at home. These were secreted in stone heaps, and among bushes in close proximity to where we intended to use them. Were they kept at home the obtaining of a search warrant by the police or local Angling a.s.sociation would always render their custody a critical business. When, upon any rare occasion, the nets were kept at home, it was only for a short period, and when about to be used. Sometimes, though rarely, the police have discovered them secreted in the chimney, between bed and mattra.s.s, or, in one case, wound about the portly person of a poacher's wife. As I have already said, the women are not always simply aiders and abettors, but in the actual poaching sometimes play an important part. They have frequently been taken red-handed by the watchers. Mention of the water-bailiffs reminds me that I must say a word of them too. Their profession is a hard one--harder by far than the poacher's. They work at night, and require to be most on the alert during rough and wet weather; especially in winter when fish are sp.a.w.ning. Sometimes they must remain still for hours in freezing clothes; and even in summer not unfrequently lie all night in dank and wet herbage. They see the night side of nature, and many of them are as good naturalists as the poachers. If a lapwing gets up and screams in the darkness the cleverer of them know how to interpret the sound, as also a hare rus.h.i.+ng wildly past. I must add, however, that it is in the nature of things that at all points the fish poacher is cleverer and of readier wit than the river watcher.

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Looking back it does not seem long since county constables first became an inst.i.tution in this part of the country. I remember an amusing incident connected with one of them who was evidently a stranger to many of the phases of woodcraft. We had been netting a deep dub just below a stone bridge, and were about to land a splendid haul. Looking up, a constable was watching our operations in an interested sort of way, and for a moment we thought we were fairly caught. Just as we were about to abandon the net and make off through the wood, the man spoke. In an instant I saw how matters stood. He failed to grasp the situation--even came down and helped us to draw the net on to the bank. In thanking us for a silvery five-pound salmon we gave him he spoke with a southern accent, and I suppose that poachers and poaching were subjects that had never entered into his philosophy.

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Chapter 8.

GROUSE POACHING.

For pleasurable excitement, to say nothing of profit, the pick of all poaching is for grouse. However fascinating partridge poaching may be; however pleasurable picking off pheasants from bare boughs; or the night-piercing screams of a netted hare--none of these can compare with the wild work of the moors. I am abroad on the heather just before the coming of the day. My way lies now along the rugged course of a fell "beck," now along the lower shoulder of the mountain. The grey dissolves into dawn, the dawn into light, and the first blackc.o.c.k crows to his grey hen in the hollow. As my head appears above the burn side, the ever-watchful curlews whistle and the plovers scream. A dotterel goes plaintively piping over the stones, and the "cheep, cheep," of the awakening ling-birds rises from every brae. A silent tarn lies s.h.i.+mmering in a green hollow beneath, and over its marge constantly flit a pair of summer snipe. The bellowing of red deer comes from a neighbouring corrie, and a herd of roe are browsing on the confines of the scrub. The sun mounts the Eastern air, drives the mists away and beyond the lichen patches loved by the ptarmigan--and it is day.

A glorious bird is the red grouse! Listen to his warning "kok, kok, kok," as he eyes the invader of his moorland haunts. Now that it is day his mate joins him on the "knowe." The sun warms up his rufus plumage, and the crescent-shaped patch of vermilion over the eye glows in the strong light. It is these sights and sounds that warm me to my work, and dearly I love the moor-game. Years ago I had sown grain along the fell-side so as to entice the grouse within range of an old flint-lock which I used with deadly effect from behind a stone wall. Then snares were set on the barley sheaves and corn stooks, by which a brace of birds were occasionally bagged. In after years an unforseen grouse harvest came in quite an unexpected manner. With the enclosure of the Commons hundreds of miles of wire fencing was erected, and in this way, before the birds had become accustomed to it, numbers were killed by flying against the fences. The casualties mostly occurred during "thick" weather, or when the mists had clung to the hills for days. At such times grouse fly low, and strike before seeing the obstacle. I never failed to note the mist-caps hanging to the fell-tops, and then, bag in hand, walked parallel to miles and miles of flimsy fence.

Sometimes a dozen brace of birds were picked up in a morning; and, on the lower grounds, an occasional partridge, woodc.o.c.k, or snipe.

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Grouse are the only game that ever tempted me to poach during close time, and then I only erred by a few days. Birds sold in London on the morning of the "Twelfth" bring the biggest prices of the season, and to supply the demand was a temptation I could never resist. Many a "Squire," many a Country Justice has been tempted as I was, and fell as I fell. It is not too much to say that every one of the three thousand birds sold in London on the opening day has been poached during the "fence" time. In the north, country station-masters find hampers dropped on their platforms addressed to London dealers, but, as to who brought them, or how they came there, none ever knows.

The only true prophet of the grouse-moors is the poacher. Months before the "squire" and keeper he knows whether disease will a.s.sert itself or no. By reason of his out-door life he has accuracy of eye and judgment sufficient to interpret what he sees aright. He is abroad in all weathers, and through every hour of the day and night. His clothes have taken on them the duns and browns of the moorlands; and he owns the subtle influence which attracts wild creatures to him. He has watched grouse "at home" since the beginning of the year. On the first spring day the sun s.h.i.+nes brightly at noon. The birds bask on the brae, and spread their wings to the warmth. As the sun gains in power, and spring comes slowly up the way, the red grouse give out gurgling notes, and indulge in much strutting. The fell "becks" sparkles in the sun; the merlin screams over the heather, and the grouse packs break up. The birds are now seen singly or in pairs, and brae answers brae from dawn till dark. The c.o.c.k grouse takes his stand on some grey rock, and erects or depresses at pleasure his vermilion eye-streak. Pairing is not long continued, and the two find out a depression in the heather which they line with bents and mountain gra.s.ses. About eight eggs are laid, and the c.o.c.k grouse takes his stand upon the "knowe" to guard the nest from predaceous carrion and hooded crows. If hatching is successful the young birds are quickly on their legs, and through spring and summer follow the brooding birds. They grow larger and plumper each day, until it is difficult to detect them from the adult. Meanwhile August has come, and soon devastating death is dealt out to them. The sport, so far as the poacher is concerned, begins at the first rolling away of the morning mists; and then he often makes the best bag of the year. It was rarely that I was abroad later than two in the morning, and my first business was to wade out thigh-deep into the purple heather. From such a position it is not difficult to locate the crowing of the moorbirds as they answer each other across the heather. When this was done I would gain a rough stone wall, and then, by imitating the gurgling call-notes of c.o.c.k or hen I could bring up every grouse within hearing. Sometimes a dozen would be about me at one time. Then the birds were picked off as they flew over the knolls and braes, or as they boldly stood on any eminence near. If this method is deadly in early August, it is infinitely more so during pairing time. Then, if time and leisure be allowed, and the poacher is a good "caller," almost every bird on a moor may be bagged.

The greatest number of grouse, and consequently the best poaching, is to be had on moors on which the heather is regularly burned. Grouse love the shoots of ling which spring up after burning, and the birds which feed upon this invariably have the brightest plumage. On a well-burnt moor the best poaching method is by using a silk net. By watching for traces during the day it is not difficult to detect where the birds roost, and once this is discovered the rest is easy. The net is trailed along the ground by two men, and dropped instantly on the whirr of wings. The springing of the birds is the only guide in the darkness, though the method skilfully carried out is most destructive, and sometimes a whole covey is bagged at one sweep. Silk nets have three good qualities for night work, those made of any other material being c.u.mbersome and nearly useless. They are light, strong, and are easily carried. It is well to have about eighteen inches of glazed material along the bottom of the net, or it is apt to catch in dragging. Where poaching is practised, keepers often place in the likeliest places a number of strong stakes armed with protruding nails. These, however, may be removed and replanted after the night's work; or, just at dusk a bunch of white feathers may be tied to point the position of each.