Longnetting
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 spawning their senses seem to become dulled, and then they are not difficult to approach in the water. They seek the highest reaches to spawn and stay for a considerable time on the spawning beds. A salmon offers a fair mark, and these are obtained by spearing. The pronged 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 allthings 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.
Man Spearing a Salmon
The flesh of spawning 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 spawning 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 asharp 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 class 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 youngergeneration. 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 fishing 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 localAngling Association 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 mattrass, 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 spawning. 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 asthe 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 rushing 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.
"Going sinuously and snake-like through the wet meadows"
Poacher Presenting Salmon to Constable
Looking back it does not seem long since county constables first became an institution 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.
Chapter 8.
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 blackcock 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 shimmering 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 thesesights 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 thefences. 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, woodcock, or snipe.
Poacher with Grouse by Wire Fence
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 assert 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 shines 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 cock 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 grasses. About eight eggs are laid, and the cock 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 isdifficult 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 positionit 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 cock 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 detectwhere 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 coveyis bagged at one sweep. Silk nets have three good qualities for night work, those made of any other material being cumbersome 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.
Bagging a Covey with a Silk Net
The planting of grain patches along the moor-side has been mentioned, and on these in late autumn great numbers of birds are bagged.Grouse are exceedingly fond of oats, and in the early morning the stooks are sometimes almost black with them. A pot shot here from behind a wall or fence is generally a profitable one, as the heavy charge of shot is sent straight at the "brown." Black-game are as keen as red grouse on oats, and a few sheaves thrown about always attracts them. Although the blackcock is a noble bird in appearance, he is dull and heavy, and is easily bagged. Early in the season the birds lie until almost trod upon, and of all game are the easiest to net. They roost on the ground, and usually seek out some sheltered brae-side on which to sleep. If closely watched at evening, it is not difficult to clap a silk net over them upon the first favourable night, when both mother and grown young are bagged together. That there are gentlemen poachers as well as casuals and amateurs, the following incident relating to black-game shows: "On a dull misty day they are easily got at: they will sit on the thorn bushes and alders, and let the shooter pick them offone by one. I remember once, on such a day, taking a noble sportsman who was very keen to shoot a blackcock, up to some black game sitting on a thorn hedge. When he got within about twenty-five yards he fired his first barrel (after taking a very deliberate aim) at an old grey hen. She took no notice, only shaking her feathers a little, and hopping a short distance further on. The same result with the second barrel. He loaded again and fired. This time the old hen turned round, and looked to see where the noise and unpleasant tickling sensation came from, and grew uneasy; the next attempt made her fly on to where her companions were sitting, and our friend then gave up his weapon to me in despair. Black game grow very stupid also when on stubbles; they will let a man fire at them, and if they do not see him, will fly round the field and settle again, or pitch on a wall quite near to him. Grouse will do the same thing. There is not much 'sport' in such shooting as this, but when out alone, and wanting to make a bag, it is a sure and quick way to doso. It may be called 'poaching'—all I can say is, there would be many more gentlemen poachers if they could obtain such chances, and could not get game in any other way."
Both grouse and black game may frequently be brought within range by placing a dead or stuffed bird on a rock or a stone wall. A small forked stick is made to support the head and neck of the decoy "dummy," which, if there are birds in the vicinity, soon attracts them. As a rule the lure is not long successful, but sufficiently so as to enable the poacher to make a big bag. Upon one occasion I made a remarkable addition to our fur and feather. In the darkness a movement was heard among the dense branches of a Scotch fir, when, looking up, a large bird which seemed as big as a turkey commenced to flutter off. It was stopped before it had flown many yards, and proved to be a handsome cock Capercailzie in splendid plumage. Had I been certain as to what it was I certainly should not have fired.
Grouse stalking is fascinating sport, and by this method I usually made my greatest achievements. The stalking was mainly done from behind an old moorland horse, with which I had struck up an acquaintance; and it learned to stand fire like a war veteran. I used to think it enjoyed the sport, and I believe it did. With the aid of my shaggy friend I have successfully stalked hundreds of grouse, as its presence seemed to allay both fear and suspicion. Firing over its back, its neck, or beneath its belly—all were taken alike, patiently and sedately. An occasional handful of oats, or half a loaf, cemented the friendship of the old horse—my best and most constant poaching companion for years.
Chapter 9.
If
well trained lurchers are absolutely necessary to hare poaching, ferrets are just as important to successful rabbit poaching. Nearly nothing in fur can be done without them. However lucky the moucher may be among pheasants, partridge, or grouse, rabbits are and must be the chief product of his nights. Of the methods of obtaining them—field netting, well-traps, shooting—all are as nothing compared with silent ferreting.
In the north we have two well-defined varieties of ferret—one a brown colour andknown as the polecat-ferret; the other, the common white variety. The first is the hardier, and it is to secure this quality that poachers cross their ferrets with the wild polecat. Unlike lurchers, ferrets require but little training, and seem to work instinctively. There are various reasons why poachers prefer white ferrets to the polecat variety. At night a brown ferret is apt to be nipped up in mistake for a rabbit; while a white one is always apparent, even when moving among the densest herbage. Hence mouchers invariably use white ones. Gamekeepers who know their business prefer ferrets taken from poachers to any other. I was always particularly careful in selecting my stock, as from the nature of my trade I could ill afford to use bad ones. Certain strains of ferrets cause rabbits to bolt rapidly, while others are slow and sluggish. It need hardly be said that I always used the former. Even the best, however, will sometimes drive a rabbit to the end of a "blind" burrow;and after killing it will not return until ithas gorged itself with blood. And moretroubleis added if the ferret curls itself up for an after-dinner sleep. Then it has either to be left or dug out. The latter process is long, the burrows ramify far into the mound, and it is not just known in which the ferret remains. If it be left it is well to bar every hole with stones, and then return with a dead rabbit when hunger succeeds the gorged sleep. It is to guard against such occasions as these that working ferrets are generally muzzled. A cruel practise used to obtain among poachers of stitching together the lips of ferrets to prevent their worrying rabbits and then "laying up." For myself I made a muzzle of soft string which was effective, and at the same time comfortable to wear. When there was a chance of being surprised at night work I occasionally worked ferrets with a line attached; but this is an objectionable practice and does not always answer. There may be a root or stick in which the line gets entangled, when there will be digging and no end of trouble to get the ferret out. From these facts, and the great uncertainty of ferreting, it will be understood why poacherscan afford to use only the best animals. A tangled hedgebank with coarse herbage wasalways a favourite spot for my depredations. There are invariably two, often half a dozen holes, to the same burrow. Small purse nets are spread over these, and I always preferred these loose to being pegged or fixed in any way. When all the nets are set the ferrets are turned in. They do not proceed immediately, but sniff the mouth of the hole; their indecision is only momentary, however, for soon the tip of the tail disappears in the darkness. And now silence is essential to success, as rabbits refuse to bolt if there is the slightest noise outside. A dull thud, a rush, and a rabbit goes rolling over and over entangled in the purse. Reserve nets are quickly clapped on the holes as the rabbits bolt, the latter invariably being taken except where a couple come together. Standing on the mound a shot would stop these as they go bounding through the dead leaves, but the sound would bring up the keeper, and so one has to practise self-denial. Unlike hares, rabbits rarely squeal when theybecome entangled; and this allows one to ferret long and silently. Rabbits bolt best on a windy day and before noon; after that they are sluggish and often refuse to come out at all. This is day ferreting, but of course mine was done mainly at night. In this case the dogs always ranged the land, and drove everything off it before we commenced operations. On good ground a mound or brae sometimes seemed to explode with rabbits, so wildly did they fly before their deadly foe. I have seen a score driven from one set of holes, while five or six couples is not at all uncommon. When ferrets are running the burrows, stoats and weasels are occasionally driven out; and among other strange things unearthed I remember a brown owl, a stock-dove, and a shell-drake—each of which happened to be breeding in the mounds.
Man with Lurcher
The confines of a large estate constitute a poacher's paradise, for although partridge and grouse require land suited to their taste, rabbits and pheasants are common to all preserved ground. And then the former may be takenat any time, and in so many different ways. They are abundant, too, and always find a ready market. The penalties attached to rabbit poaching are less than those of game, and the conies need not be followed into closely preserved coverts. The extermination of the rabbit will be contemporaneous with that of the lurcher and poacher—two institutions of village life which date back to the time of the New Forest. Of the many mouching modes for taking conies, ferretting, as already stated, and field netting are the most common. Traps with steel jaws are sometimes set in runs, inserted in the turf so as to bring them flush with the sward. But destruction by this method is not sufficiently wholesale, and the upturned white under-parts of the rabbit's fur show too plainly against the green. The poacher's methods must be quick, and he cannot afford to visit by day traps set in the dark. The night must cover all his doings. When the unscrupulous keeper finds a snare he sometimes puts a leveret into it, and secretes himself. Then he waits, and captures the poacher "inthe act." As with some other methods already mentioned, the trap poacher is only a casual. Ferretting is silent and almost invariably successful. In warrens, both inequalities of the ground, mounds, and ditches afford good cover. My best and most wholesale method of field-poaching for rabbits was by means of two long nets. These are from a hundred to a hundred and fifty yards in length, and about four feet high. They are usually made of silk, and are light and strong, and easily portable. These are set parallel to each other along the edge of a wood, about thirtyyards out into the pasture. Only about four inches divides the nets. A dark windy night is best for the work, as in such weather rabbits feed far out in the fields. On a night of this character, too, the game neither hears nor sees the poacher. The nets are long—the first small in mesh, that immediately behind large. When a rabbit or hare strikes, the impetus takes a part of the first net and its contents through the larger mesh of the second, and there, hanging, the creature struggles until it is knocked on the head with a stick. Immediately the nets are set, two men and a brace of lurchers range the ground in front, slowly and patiently, and gradually drive every feeding thing woodwards. A third man quietly paces the sward behind the nets, killing whatever strikes them. In this way I have taken many scores of rabbits in a single night. On the confines of a large estate a rather clever trick was once played upon us. Each year about half-a-dozen black or white rabbits were turned down into certain woods. Whilst feeding, these stood out conspicuously from therest, and were religiously preserved. Upon these the keepers kept a close watch, and when any were missing it was suspected what was going on, when the watching strength was increased. As soon as we detected the trick, we were careful to let the coloured rabbits go free. We found that it was altogether to our interest to preserve them.
During night poaching for rabbits and hares the ground game is driven from its feeding ground to the woods or copses. Precisely the reverse method is employed during the day when the game is in cover. The practice is to find a spinny in which both rabbits and hares are known to lie; and then to set purse nets on the outside of every opening which may possibly be used by the frightened animals. The smaller the wood or patch of cover the easier it is to work. A man, with or without a dog, enters the covert, and his presence soon induces the furry denizens to bolt. As these rush through their customary runs they find themselves in the meshes of a net, and every struggle only makes them faster. This methodhas the disadvantage of being done in the light, but where there is much game is very deadly.
Snares for hares and rabbits are not used nearly so much now as formerly. For all that, they are useful in outlying districts, or on land that is not closely watched. For hares the snare is a wire noose tied to a stick with string, and placed edgeways in the trod. To have the snare the right height is an important matter; and it will be found that two fists high for a hare, and one for a rabbit, is the most deadly. Casuals set their snares in hedge-bottoms, but these are no good. Two or three feet away from the hedge is the most killing position—for this reason: when a hare canters up to a fence it never immediately bounds through; it pauses about a yard away, then leaps into the hedge-bottom. It is during this last leap that it puts its neck into the noose and is taken. If a keeper merely watches a snare until it is "lifted," good and well; but to put a hare or rabbit into it and then pounce on the moucher—well, that is a different matter. It is not difficult to see wherea hare has been taken, especially if the run in which the snare was set was damp. There will be the hole where the peg has been, and the ground will be beaten flat by the struggles of the animal in endeavouring to free itself.
Field-netting for rabbits may be prevented in the same way as for partridges—by thorning the ground where the game feeds. It is quite a mistake to plant thorns, or even to stake out large branches. The only ones that at all trouble the poacher are small thorns which are left absolutely free on the ground. These get into the net, roll it up hopelessly in a short time, and if this once occurs everything escapes. Large thorns are easily seen and easily removed, but the abominable ones are the small ones left loose on the surface of the ground.
The most certain and wholesale method of rabbit poaching I ever practised was also the most daring. The engine employed was the "well-trap." This is a square, deep box, built into the ground, and immediately opposite to a smoot-hole in the fence through which therabbits run from wood or covert to field or pasture. Through a hole in the wall or fence a wooden trough or box is inserted. As the rabbits run through, the floor opens beneath their weight, and they drop into the "well." Immediately the pressure is removed the floor springs back to its original position, and thus a score or more rabbits are often taken in a single night. In the construction of these "well-traps," rough and unbarked wood is used, though, even after this precaution, the rabbits will not take them for weeks. Then, they become familiar; the weather washes away all scent, and the "well" is a wholesale engine of destruction. All surface traces of the existence of the trap must be covered over with dead leaves and woodland debris. The rabbits, of course, are taken alive, and the best way of killing them is by stretching them across the knee, and so dislocating the spine. If the keeper once finds out the trap the game is up. Whilst it lasts, however, it kills more rabbits than every other stroke of woodcraft the poacher knows.
Chapter 10.
When
it is known that a man's life is one long protest against the Game Laws he has to be exceedingly careful of his comings and goings. Every constable, every gamekeeper, and most workers in woodcraft are aware of the motives which bring him abroad at night. More eyes are upon himthan he sees, and no one knows better than he that the enemies most to be feared are those who are least seen; and the man who has tasted the bitterness of poaching penalties will do everything in his power to escape detection. Probably the greatest aid to this end is knowing the country by heart; the field-paths and disused bye-ways, the fordable parts of the river, and a hundred things beside. The poacher is and must be suspicious of everyone he meets.
In planning and carrying out forays I was always careful to observe two conditions. No poaching secret was ever confided to another; and I invariably endeavoured to get to the ground unseen. If my out-going was observed it often entailed a circuit of a dozen miles in coming home, and even then the entry into town was not without considerable risk. The hand of everyone was against me in my unlawful calling, and many were the shifts I had to make to escape detection or capture. To show with what success this may be carried out, the following incident will show.
Donkey with Panniers
I conceived the idea of openly shooting certain well-stocked coverts during the temporary absence of the owner. These were so well watched that all the ordinary measures at night seemed likely to be baffled. To openly shoot during broad day, and under the very eye of the keeper, was now the essential part of the programme; and to this end I must explain as follows: The keeper on the estate was but lately come to the district. Upon two occasions when I had been placed in the dock, I had been described as "a poacher of gentlemanly appearance," and "the gentleman poacher again." (My forefathers had been small estatesmen for generations, and I suppose that some last lingering air of gentility attached to me). Well, I had arranged with a confederate to act as bag carrier; he was to be very servile, and not to forget to touch his cap at pretty frequent intervals. After "making up" as a country squire—(I had closely studied the species on the"Bench")—and providing a luncheon in keeping with my temporary "squiredom," we started for thewoods. It was a bright morning in the last week of October, and game—hares, pheasants, and woodcock—was exceedingly plentiful. The first firing brought up the keeper, who touched his hat in the most respectful fashion. He behaved, in short, precisely as I would have had him behave. I lost no time on quietly congratulating him on the number and quality of his birds; told him that his master would return from town to-morrow (which I had learned incidentally), and ended by handing him my cartridge bag to carry. A splendid bag of birds had been made by luncheon time, and the viands which constituted the meal were very much in keeping with my assumed position. Dusk came at the close of the short October afternoon, and with it the end of our day's sport. The bag was spread out in one of the rides of the wood, and in imagination I can see it now—thirty-seven pheasants, nine hares, five woodcock, a few rabbits, some cushats, and the usual "miscellaneous." The man of gaiters was despatched a couple of miles for a cart to carry the spoil,and a substantial "tip" gave speed to his not unwilling legs. The game, however, was not to occupy the cart. A donkey with panniers was waiting in a clump of brush by the covert side, and as soon as the panniers were packed, its head was turned homeward over a wild bit of moorland. With the start obtained, chase would have been fruitless had it ever been contemplated—which it never was. I need not detail the sequel to the incident here, andmay say that it was somewhat painful to myself as well as my bag carrier. And I am sorry to say that the keeper was summarily dismissed by the enraged squire as a reward for his innocence. As to the coverts, they were so well stocked, that after a few days' rest there appeared as much game as ever, and the contents of our little bag were hardly missed.
Attired like a Quaker
Another trick to which my co-worker used to resort was to attire himself in broad-brimmed hat and black coat similar to those worn a century ago by the people called Quakers. In the former he carried his nets, and in the capacious pockets of the latter the game he took. These outward guarantees of good faith, away from his own parish, precluded him from ever once being searched. I have already remarked, and every practical poacher knows it to be the fact, that the difficulty isnot so much to obtain game as to transport it safely home. Although our dogs were trained to run on a hundred yards in advance so as to give warning of the approach of a possible enemy—even this did not always save us. A big bag of game handicaps one severely in a cross-country run, and it is doubly galling to have to sacrifice it. Well, upon the particular occasion to which I refer there was to be a country funeral with a hearse from the neighbouring market town, and of this I was determined to take advantage. By arranging with the driver I was enabled to stow myself and a large haul in the body of the vehicle, and, although the journey was a cramped and stuffy one, we in time reached our destination. As we came behind the nearest game shop the driver undid the door, and the questionable corpse was safely landed.
I need hardly say that in a long life of poaching there were many occasions when I was brought to book. These, however, would form but a small percentage of the times I was "out." My success in this way was probablyowing to the fact that I was chary as to those I took into confidence, and knew that above all things keeping my own council was the best wisdom. Another moucher I knew, but with whom I would have nothing to do, was an instance of one who told poaching secrets to village gossips. The "Mole" spent most ofhistime in the county gaol, and just lately he completed his sixty-fifth incarceration—only a few of which were for offences outside the game laws. Well, there came a time when all the keepers round the country side had their revenge on me, and they made the most of it. I and my companion were fairly caught by being driven into an ambuscade by a combination of keepers. Exultant in my capture, the keepers from almost every estate in the neighbourhood flocked to witness my conviction. Some of them who had at times only seen a vanishing form in the darkness, now attended to see the man, as they put it. As I had always been followed at nights by an old black bitch, she, too, was produced in court, and proved an object of much curiosity. Well,our case was called, and, as we had no good defence to set up, it was agreed that my companion should do the talking. Without letting it appear so, we had a very definite object in prolonging the hearing of the case. There was never any great inclination to hurry such matters, as the magistrates always seemed to enjoy them. "We had been taken in the act," my co-worker told the bench. "We deserved no quarter, and asked none. Poaching was right by the Bible, but wrong by the law,"—and so he was rushing on. One of the Justices deigned to remark that it was a question of "property" not morality. "Oh!" rejoined the "Otter," "because blue blood doesn't runin my veins that's no reason why I shouldn't have my share. Butit's a queer kind of property that's yours in that field, mine on the turnpike, and a third man's over the next fence." The end of it was, however, a fine of £5, with an alternative. And so the case ended. But that day the keepers and their assistants had forgotten the first principles of watching. The best keeper is the one that is the least seen. Only let the poacher know his whereabouts, and the latter's work is easy. It was afterwards remarked that during our trial not a poacher was in court. To any keeper skilled in his craft this fact must have appeared unusual—and significant. It became even more so when both of us were released by reason of our heavy fine having been paid the same evening. Most of the keepers had had their day out, and were making the most of it. Had their heads not been muddled they might have seen more than one woman labouring under loaded baskets near the local game dealers; these innocently covered with mantling cresses, and so, at the time, escapingsuspicion. Upon the memorable day the pheasants had been fed by unseen hands—and had vanished. The only traces left by the covert side were fluffy feathers everywhere. Few hares remained on the land; the rest had either been snared or netted at the gates. The rabbits' burrows had been ferreted, the ferrets having been slyly borrowed at the keeper's cottage during his absence for the occasion. I may say that, in connection with this incident, we always claimed to poach square, and drew the line at home-reared pheasants—allowing them "property." Those found wild in the woods were on a different footing, and we directed our whole knowledge of woodcraft against them.
Two Men in Court
Here is another "court" incident, in which I and my companion played a part. We came in contact with the law just sufficient to make us know something of its bearings. When charged with being in possession of "game" we reiterated the old argument that rabbits were vermin—but it rarely stood us in good stead. On one occasion, however, we scored.Being committed for two months for "night poaching," we respectfully informed the presiding Justice that, at the time of our capture, the sun had risen an hour; and further, that the law did not allow more than half the sentence just passed upon us. Our magistrate friend—to whom I have more than once referred—was on the bench, and he told his brother Justices that he thought there was something in the contention. The old Clerk looked crabbed as he fumbled for his horn spectacles, and, after turning over a book called "Stone's Justices' Manual," he solemnly informed the bench that defendants in their interpretation were right. We naturally remember this little incident, and as the law has had the whip hand of us upon so many occasions, chuckle over it.
We invariably made friends with the stone-breakers by the road-sides, and just as invariably carried about us stone-breakers' hammers, and "preserves" for the eyes. When hard pressed, and if unknown to the pursuing keeper, nothing is easier than to dismiss the dog, throw off one's coat, plump down upon the first stone heap on the road, and go to work. If the thing is neatly done, and the "preserves" cover the face, it is wonderful how often this ruse is successful. The keeper may put a hasty question, but he oftener rushes after his man. Mention of stone-heaps reminds me of the fact that they are better "hides" for nets than almost anything else, especially the larger unbroken heaps. We invariably hid our big cumbrous fishing nets beneath them, and the stones were just as invariably true to their trust.
Going back to my earliest poaching days I remember a cruel incident which had a very different ending to what its author intended. A young keeper had made a wager that he would effect my capture within a certain number of days, and my first intimation of this fact was a sickening sight which I discovered in passing down a woodland glade just at dawn on a bright December morning. I heard a groan, and a few yards in front saw a man stretched across the ride. His clothes werecovered with hoar frost, he was drenched in blood, and the poor fellow's pale face showed me that of the keeper. He was held fast in a man-trap which had terribly lacerated his lower limbs. He was conscious, but quite exhausted. Although in great agony he suffered me to carry him to a neighbouring hay-rick, from whence we removed him to his cottage. He recovered slowly, and the man-trap which he had set the night before was, I believe, the last ever used in that district.
Injured Man being Carried
Chapter 11.
When
I had finished the last chapter I thought I had completed my work, but the gentleman who is to edit these "Confessions" now tells me that I am to confess more. He reminds me that I cannot have been an active poacher nearly all my life without having had numerous personalencounters with keepers and others. And in this he is right. But there is some difficulty in my additional task for the following reasons: I have never cared to take much credit to myself for having broken the head of a keeper, and there is but little pleasure to me in recounting the occasions when keepers have broken mine. However, speaking of broken heads reminds me of an incident which was amusing, though, at the time, somewhat painful to me.
One night in November when the trees were bare, and the pheasants had taken to the branches, we were in a mixed wood of pine and beech. A good many birds roosted on its confines, and, to a practised eye, were not difficult to see against the moon as they sat on the lower limbs of the trees, near the trunks. I and my companion had old, strong guns with barrels filed down, and, as we got very near to the birds, we were using small charges of powder. As the night was windy the shots would not be heard very far, and we felt fairly safe. When we had obtainedabout three brace of birds, however, I heard a sudden crash among the underwood, when I immediately jumped behind the bole of a tree, and kept closely against it.
The head-keeper had my companion down before he could resist, and I only remained undiscovered for a few seconds. One of the under-keepers seized me, but, being a good wrestler, I soon threw him into a dense brake of brambles and blackthorn. Then I bolted with the third man close behind. I could easily have outrun him over the rough country that lay outside the wood, but—ah! these "buts"—there was a stiff stone fence fully five feet high betwixt me and the open. Unless I could "fly" the fence he would have me. I clutched my pockets, steadied myself for the leap—and then sprang. I heard my pursuer stop for a second to await the issue. Weighted as I was I caught the coping, and fell back heavily into the wood. As soon as the keeper saw I was down he rushed forward and hit me heavily on the head with a stave. The sharp corner cut right through the skin,and blood spurted out in little jets. Then I turned about, determined to close with my opponent if he was inclined for further roughness. But he was not. When he saw that the blood was almost blinding me he dropped his hedge-stake, and ran, apparently terrified at what he had done. I leaned for a few moments against the wall, then dragged myself over, and started for a stream which ran down the field. But I felt weaker at every step, and soon crept into a bed of tall brackens, and plugged the wound in my head with a handful of wet moss, keeping it in position with my neckerchief. After this I munched some bread and hard cheese, sucked the dew from the fern fronds, and then fell into a broken sleep. I must have slept for four or five hours, when I woke thirsty and feverish, and very weak. I tried to walk, but again and again fell down. Then I crawled for about a hundred yards, but this caused my wound to bleed afresh, and I fainted. Just as day was coming a farm labourer came across, and kindly helped me to his cottage. He and hiswife bathed my head and eyes, and then assisted me to the bed from which they had just risen. At noon I was able to take some bread and milk, and at night, an hour after darkness had fallen, I was able to start for home.
Well, the sequel came in due time. We each received a summons (my companion had been released after identification), we were tried in about a fortnight from the date of our capture. There was a full bench of Magistrates; my companion pleaded guilty (with a view to a lenient sentence); myself—not guilty. In the first instance the case was clear, but not one of the three keepers (to their credit) would swear to me. They looked me carefully over, particularly my assailant. He was reminded that it was a fine, moonlight night. Yes, but his man, he thought, was taller, was more strongly built, and looked pale and haggard—no, he would not say that I was the man—in short, he thought I was not. Then came my innings. The keeper had sworn that, after running a mile, the poacher he chased had turned on him, and threatened to "do for him," if he advanced;that he had hit him on the head with his stick, and must have wounded him severely. He was also careful to explain that he had done this in "self defence." I then pointed out to the "bench" that it was no longer a matter of opinion; that I claimed to have my head examined, and asked that the Police Superintendent, who was conducting the case, should settle the point.
But my assumption of an air of injured innocence had already done its work, and the presiding Magistrate said there was no evidence against me; that the case as against me was dismissed.
I had hard work to get out of the box without smiling, for even then the pain in my head was acute, and I was not right for weeks after. I knew, however, that my wound was a dangerous possession, and close attention to my thick, soft hair, enabled me to hide it, always providing that it was not too closely examined. My companion was less fortunate, and his share of the proceedings, poor fellow, was "two months."