o up, and a peculiar uneasiness manifest
itself: very shortly the birds will fly off, after one or two
preliminary circles round, to the feeding ground they have selected,
though if properly fed they will not go far. All that has to be done is
to observe where the ducks feed, and place the guns either in the line
of flight between the birds' home and their feeding ground or round the
feeding ground itself.

No sport is more fascinating than this--the absolute solitude, the dull
red glow of the light fading in the west, gradually getting fainter and
fainter, the light shiver of the reeds, as a breath of wind rustles
through them, and best of all the whistle of beating pinions high
overhead, betokening the welcome intelligence that birds are circling
round, and making a full inspection of the feeding ground before
alighting. Don't move now whatever you do, your retriever, sitting close
at your side, will move his head quite enough, without your stirring as
well: if you watch him you will soon get a pretty good idea as to where
the birds are.

Presently the noise becomes louder, and then with a loud "swish" the
birds come right at you. Throw up your gun quietly and quickly and fire
at once--don't dwell on your aim, and let us hope that the dog has no
difficulty in retrieving a bird that was evidently cleanly killed.

Ducks, like other birds, always alight facing the wind, and this fact
must be borne in mind when selecting the stand. Should there be no wind
to speak of, it is best to face the fading light, unless the ducks are
known to make a practice of coming from one particular direction.

They are most capricious birds, here to-day, and gone to-morrow, but
this all adds to the fascination of the sport. I remember once killing
eight ducks at a particular spot one evening, and not even getting a
shot the next, although there were hundreds of ducks in the
neighbourhood. Very different sport to this does one get in the East.
The man who goes Flight Shooting there is almost certain of good sport,
provided he knows what he is about. Well I remember a certain evening in
Upper Burmah. It was at Alon on the river Chindwin, and during the last
Burmese war.

We were not supposed to go far from the Fort, but if we took an armed
escort with us, no objection was raised.

There was a large "jheel" about two miles from the Fort, which was much
overshot by the small garrison quartered there, and during the day
little could be see