We have a cat which, when thirsty, sometimes drinks from an open tub, balancing herself on the edge. When the water is too low for lapping she will dip a front paw and lick off the water in delicate and dainty fashion. Bloodthirsty creatures require deep drinks: stoats and weasels go often to water. But creatures which feed on green-stuffs seldom drink water directly, but in the shape of dew, or the moisture of their food. Sheep, when feeding off root-crops in autumn and winter, have little need of water, and rabbits and hares are not great drinkers. Partridges are among many birds that may drink only of raindrops or dew, or quench their thirst with juicy seeds or insects. Dry summers always mean plenty of partridges—yet one hears, each dry summer, that partridges are dying in numbers from drought. It is rather the absence of moisture-supplying insects that is fatal to the birds.
The Untimely Opening
Midsummer Day might be marked as the partridge's birthday, since the majority of birds are hatched about that time—a month later than the majority of pheasants break their shells. People are sometimes puzzled when they realise that pheasants are preserved for two months longer than partridges. The reason, of course, is that pheasants mature slowly, and partridges quickly. But are partridges given fair grace? We think not—and would advocate a later opening day for partridge-shooting. Not a partridge of the year is matured on September 1, in size, or strength of flight, or endurance. The young birds are still in the drab-feather stage; their legs are bright yellow, an infallible token of youthfulness; and it is rare, before October, to find one with the horseshoe chestnut feathers on its breast, or with rufous head—the signs of maturity. The heavy toll taken on small shoots during the first fortnight of September is not only unfair, but unwise, and often fatal to the good prospects of future seasons. Another mistake commonly made is the shooting of too many hares in September. Many of the does are still suckling leverets; and does, that breed for the most part in the fields, form a large proportion of the hares met with in September partridge shooting.
THE LONG DAY CLOSES
LONDON. EDWARD ARNOLD.
'Ware Wire
Wire netting is the cause of many a tragedy to young pheasants. One may see it stretching for miles on the fringe of woods as a fence against rabbits. Suppose a hen pheasant, with her brood, has been making an excursion to the fields. She comes to the wire and finds her return passage barred. Seeing that most of her little ones have wriggled through the meshes, the mother flies over, and goes on. But as often as not she leaves behind her one or two chicks, and these the flower of her flock—for they are the ones so well grown as to be just too large to pass through the meshes. Sooner or later, after fluttering to find a loophole, the little necks become caught, and after a few frantic struggles the chicks hang themselves. Or night comes on, and some prowling vermin saves them from a slow death by exhaustion through their vain efforts.