at the wild-swan is the great object of the sportsman's desire: he is not naturally so shy a bird as the wild-duck, but still his long neck, and acute sense of hearing, render great caution necessary. If, as often happens, he is feeding along the shore, you have only to plant yourself in an advantageous situation a good way ahead, and it will not be long before he makes his appearance; but if he is feeding at the mouth of some brook or stream, you must crawl in the same way as when after wild-ducks. Should you get within a distant shot of a hooper, and are not close to the water-side, instead of firing from where you are, rush down to the edge of the loch, and before the swan can take wing, you will have gained ten yards upon him. When the thaw begins after very hard weather, they are almost sure to be feeding at the mouths of any mountain-burns that run into the loch. Should you see hoopers feeding greedily, nearly out of range of your gun, in place of taking the random shot, try to prevent their being disturbed, and return at dusk of evening or grey of morning, when they will most likely have come pretty close to the shore, especially if any little rivulets run into the loch near: this rule applies to most water-fowl. If a swan be alarmed by an enemy on shore, his wont is not to fly, but to swim majestically away.

Widgeon and teal are approached in the same way as wild-ducks, only the widgeon are less shy than the ducks, and the teal than the widgeon. You may sometimes, in calm weather, see widgeon in a large flock purring and whistling a couple of hundred yards from the shore; you need give

yourself no trouble about them, as they will probably not leave their resting-place until they feed in the evening. Always try to get a heavy shot at widgeon, which, with a little patience, you may generally accomplish. Teal are usually in small flocks; so that, if you can get two or three in line, you had better fire, for fear of losing the sitting chance altogether. I once killed six at a shot; but, except when they collect in small ponds and drains. about the loch-side, so good an opportunity seldom occurs. I have occasionally seen shovellers on our lochs; but only in the hardest winters. They resemble wild-ducks in their habits the only one I ever shot was among a flock of ducks.

Good sport need never be expected when the loch is large, as many of the fowl swim up creeks, and among the morasses in-shore, where it is difficult even to get a flying shot; while those that remain on the margin of the loch are so concealed by the bushes, &c., that it is quite impossible to see them. The lower the loch the better; at all events the shore should be clearly defined. At such times, wild-fowl have always favourite haunts for feeding and resting.

There is a common saying, that specimens of all the different kinds of water-fowl which frequent the loch in winter present themselves during the harvest-moon. This is erroneous; for even the morillon, earliest of the diver tribe, seldom appears so soon; and the tufted and scaupducks, dun-birds, &c., never until the winter sets in. Multitudes of wild-ducks do come down from the moors,

during harvest, to feed upon the corn-fields on the banks of some of the larger lochs, and, when the stubble becomes bare, return to the moor-lochs until these are frozen over, which again drives them back. This is the only foundation for the vulgar error. A day or two is generally sufficient to freeze over these little lochs, and their occupants then come down to the larger ones, the greater parts of which remain open long after the storm has set in. Now is the time for the wild-fowl shooter: if the ground is covered with snow, so much the better. The fowl are then in groups close to the shore, pinched with cold and hunger, seeking shelter and a scanty morsel. If at the same time it is windy, with drifts of snow, no weather can be more propitious for ducks, widgeon, teal, and all wild-fowl that feed at the margin. When the snow is falling thick and fast, a capital sitting shot may sometimes be obtained, though the ground be so bare as to offer no concealment. In most cases, however, it is best not to take the cover off your gun till the shower moderates a little, as snow is so apt to penetrate, and make it miss

fire.

If the weather be open, the higher the wind the better, as it drives to the shore whatever fowl are upon the loch, although until the frost sets in they will be comparatively few.

The most auspicious weather for divers is one of those frosty days, accompanied by mist, when the loch is perfectly calm, and looks like a mirror dimmed by one's breath. You may then hear their plash in the water—

sometimes even before they can be seen; and, if care is taken to make no rustling among the bushes, when they are above water, you have every prospect of a good chance. The smoothness of the surface and the mist makes each bird appear twice as large as it is, which enables you much more easily to catch sight of them coming up from the dive. The mist is also an excellent shroud if the ground is open, without a tree or bush to hide behind, when the birds are above water.

The wild-fowl shooter must never forget that the true proof of his skill consists in obtaining sitting shots, and stopping a number of fowl at one discharge; and, unless with divers, must not think of a flying right and left.

As an instance of what may be done by patience and caution, I may conclude this paper by mentioning that the gamekeeper of a relation, having seen a flock of ducks pitched upon the shore, and no way of getting near them but over a bare field, crawled flat upon his face a distance of three hundred yards, pushing his gun before him, not daring even to raise his head, and at last got within such fair distance that he stopped four with his first barrel, and one with the other, securing them all. His gun was only that he had been

a small fowling-piece. I should add

trained to deer-stalking, under his father, from a boy.

THE PEAT ISLE

A SQUARE flat island on Loch Lomond, called Inch Moan, but familiarly known as "The Peat Isle," (from the people of Luss having liberty to cast peats there,) is a favourite resort of every kind of wild-fowl. At a little distance, it appears almost level with the water, on which account, as well as from its mossy formation, it abounds in swamps and morasses. This may partly account for the partiality of the wild-fowl to its shores. But there are stronger reasons still: the retired wild character of the place, seldom visited by man, except for an occasional boat-load of peats, added to which the shallowness of the water at the edges, growing deep so very gradually, is most favourable to their feeding. In the season, the further end of the island, having a grassy margin and bottom, is much frequented by flocks of wild-ducks and widgeon; on many occasions I have put up not less than a thousand in one company. In the severest weather, the sea-eagle continually resorts there to prey upon the wildfowl; and so voracious is it at this time that my father's