The two positions of holding the left hand may be seen in the shooting of the Prince of Wales, with the straight arm, and in Mr. R. Rimington Wilson, with the bent left elbow.
The question has often been asked, What should one do in case a neighbour hits a bird that is obviously going away to die? It seems to depend on what your neighbour would wish: a bad sportsman, if that is not a paradox, may ask you why you are shooting his dead birds. That is only because he would rather run the risk of leaving wounded game than lose the off chance of claiming another bird. But a good sportsman would generally know by the appearance of the game whether it was likely to fall within reasonable distance; also he would know that by the unwritten laws of sport first blood constitutes ownership without any claim being made, and there should be no false pride that prevents wounded creatures being added to the bag as expeditiously as possible. There is another consideration. It is the worst possible form to cause much time to be occupied in looking for wounded game. It spoils the sport.
At the same time, one who values the good opinion of others will avoid a practice of sharing birds, or shooting at those more properly the targets of the next man. There is often a doubt as to whose shot a bird properly is. It is not good that both shooters should decline the chance for the sake of the other, but generally one man knows the other’s form so well, that if the latter does not take the bird at one particular instant of time, it may be taken as left alone for the former to deal with.
Probably anyone who remembers the sound advice given in
“Be to others kind and true,
As you’d have others be to you,”
will make no mistake in shooting form, and will certainly never allow his gun to rake the flanks of his neighbours as he swings his body in walking in line, nor will he allow a gun at any instant, loaded or unloaded, in loading or unloading, to point at anybody for a fraction of a second. Besides which, he will rather let off a dozen woodcocks, unshot at, than run the risk of putting out beaters’ eyes, or of being told that, “although that gun seems so harmless on the game, it has probably got some shot in it.” Besides this, a shooter is responsible for the care, and also the appearance of care, of his loader, and the two things are not quite the same; for although care implies that shooters’ bodies are safe, it does not always refrain from attacking their nerves. For instance, when empty guns are jerked about, aligning everybody in turn, it is quite safe for the bodies, but very bad for the nerves of those who do not know the guns are unloaded.
Drawing for places is the best plan of posting guns. The author has found any other way, such as trying to give the best places to the honoured guest, very unsatisfactory. You never can give the best places to some people, for they do not know how to stand still. The writer has sometimes had the best shooting himself when he has taken the worst place, simply because the “honoured guests” were acting as “flankers,” and sending the game elsewhere that should have gone to them. To show yourself as little as you like, but to move not at all, is obviously a part of good shooting form.
It is hardly necessary to say that it is not the best of form to tell a fellow-guest that the management of the beat is “rotten,” and then to make some remark that your host translates into flattery. The fellow-guest may have taken your criticism as a useful hint to the host already, with your own “great authority” attached to it.
Somewhere the author has heard that His Majesty has expressed his opinion that a pheasant shared is a good deal worse than a pheasant missed; and in the head keeper’s room at Sandringham hang some verses which therefore obviously have the King’s approval, the more surely because they hang there in spite of their greater precept than polish. They appear to round off a chapter on form in shooting with a Royal behest. Part of them read—