ds; the next he
dived into a burrow. Looking round the bush, I now saw the pheasant in
the hedge, that crossed at right angles in front; this was fortunate,
because through that hedge there was another meadow. 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. My finger felt the
trigger, and the least increase of pressure would have been fatal; but
in the act I hesitated, dropped the barrel, and watched the beautiful
bird.

That watching so often stayed the shot that at last it grew to be a
habit: the mere simple pleasure of seeing birds and animals, when they
were quite unconscious that they were observed, being too great to be
spoilt by the discharge. After carefully getting a wire over a jack;
after waiting in a tree till a hare came along; after sitting in a mound
till the partridges began to run together to roost; in the end the wire
or gun remained unused. The same feeling has equally checked my hand in
legitimate shooting: time after time I have flushed partridges without
firing, and have let the hare bound over the furrow free.

I have entered many woods just for the pleasure of creeping through the