Towards the end of January rabbits begin to fall off in condition. As food becomes less nourishing their reserve supplies of fat gradually dwindle. But with the end of the game season the price on their heads begins to rise: and the keeper who has hard work to meet the expenses of a shoot looks to the rabbit-catch of February to swell the credit side of his accounts. Most people know that a hen pheasant is more tender and delicate to eat than a cock, though cock and hen may be of the same age. So with rabbits—those who sell rabbits might well charge a penny or two more for the does than for bucks. The countryman knows that the tenderest rabbits are those that he may skin with the least difficulty.
The Moucher's Excuse
While the gamekeeper is seldom at fault in the matter of a ready excuse, he meets many people who are his superior in carrying ever-ready lies on their lips. From poachers and mouchers, as the haunters of hedge-sides are called, he might learn the lesson that no excuse is better than a fine excuse that is shallow. One Sunday morning a keeper, dressed in his go-to-meeting clothes—a useful disguise—came sauntering silently down a road bounded by unkempt hawthorn hedges. His trained ear caught the sound of a dog careering past him on the field-side of the road: then he saw the dog's master, who, on seeing him, set up a sudden and energetic whistling. Of this the dog took no notice; with his nose well down, he rushed on to a rabbit-burrow and began digging furiously. "These hedges are full of rats," remarked the dog's master. "My dog killed five just now." Asked what had happened to their bodies, Mr. Moucher replied calmly, "He swallowed 'em whole." On the keeper suggesting that there was not much chance of finding a rat in the rabbit's burrow, the moucher agreed, called off his dog, and went his way. In the hedges there was no sign of a rat, but a few rabbits managed to eke out an existence, though heavily persecuted by gentlemen of the road.
When Hounds come
The opening of the hunting season proper brings a new anxiety to the keeper. While it opens in early November, no date is recognised. The keeper would like to see one fixed, and he would make it after his coverts had been shot at least once. Many shooting men would also like to see the idea established that hounds should not come to their woods until after the first shoots, especially where there are many hares. Often a landowner will refuse a master's request for permission to come his way until he has done with his coverts. The keeper does not so much object to the hounds merely passing through when in full cry, for then the hounds run in a compact body, and pay no attention to game. They only disturb a line about ten yards wide right through the woods. What disturbs every game-bird and hare in the place is drawing a covert, particularly when scent is bad and foxes are in evidence, but not to be forced away. Unhappy the keeper who must throw open his coverts at all seasons while other neighbouring coverts are closed. The prohibition of one wood often leads to the closing of many more; and hunt officials are well advised to break down, by every power of persuasion, all restrictions which favour one or two keepers at the expense of brother keepers. At any rate, we think it would be an excellent idea that the keeper whose coverts are always open to hounds should have double the reward paid for a find to the keeper whose coverts are open only after Christmas.
When Hounds are gone
Those who shoot in the wake of hounds are no sportsmen. To state a case in illustration of this: A sportsman has the shooting of a wood bounded on one side by another's fields. In days gone by he was glad to keep a fox for hounds, and gladly he would throw open his wood to the hunt, in a reasonable way. In the cause of sport, he was content that his pheasants and hares should be driven out of his wood into his neighbour's fields and hedgerows. But when he found that his neighbour was the sort of man to shoot in the wake of hounds, so that the evicted creatures were given no fair chance to return to their home-wood, but instead were shot in the afternoon following a morning visit of hounds—he felt compelled to close his wood to the hunt, with the natural sequence that he was soon compelled to bar the covert to foxes also. No shooting days in the wake of hounds should be a golden rule for all neighbourly neighbours.