Shooting at driven deer is much less fatiguing than stalking. The drive is fixed to come off at a certain hour, and the sportsmen ride ponies or walk to their posts, each carrying his own rifles—as the foresters are all employed in beating. The ponies are then left in charge of some boys, and each man is allotted a post in which he can make himself comfortable, put on his cloak and eat his lunch; pipes also are not forbidden for a while. But, after a bit, he must, on no account, move or leave his place, even if there is snow on the ground and he is perished with cold, for it is very possible that a few deer, not belonging to the drive, might be feeding just below the ridge of the hill, and, seeing other deer disturbed and coming towards them, they would probably feed quietly over the pass close to all the guns. If they were to see anyone move, they would at once bolt back whence they came, and every deer in sight would know that they were fleeing from danger, and would refuse to come up the pass. But if they were allowed to move quietly on till all the guns were passed, they would soon disappear, and their fresh tracks would be of use in keeping the deer which followed from being suspicious of any lurking danger.
The first deer to appear over a pass are usually a hind and calf; and hearts begin to beat furiously as, after many hours of waiting, they walk slowly past the line of guns, pricking their long ears forward and staring right and left suspiciously. Suddenly the hind gives a start—she has come across a footprint; she sniffs at it, quickens her pace, and trots away with her little calf beside her. All at once she gets a puff of the wind and away she goes—bark, bark, bark—but as there are no other deer in sight she can do no harm. Then some more hinds come on, followed by a few small staggies, and the excitement among the guns becomes intense as they know now that the drive has begun. As the first deer get the wind and begin to gallop, a grand Royal appears. He passes most of the rifles scathless—for there is no greater crime than to fire at one of the first few deer and so turn all the others back—but the last gun, seeing that there are now plenty of good stags over the brae, lets fly at him and may bowl him over (this is purely imaginary, for my experience is that he does not bowl him over), then crack, crack, go the other rifles as barrel after barrel is fired—two or three rifles to each man, and two barrels to each rifle—and the fat and heavy deer come panting by, bewildered by the incessant firing and the whizz of the bullets about their ears, driven forward by the shouts of the beaters behind, who are pressing them on to their death, and terrified when some magnificent beast makes a plunge forward on receiving its death-wound, and tears up the soft ground with its hoofs as it rolls over and over, its thick horns crashing against the rocks. Then the last and heaviest of the deer come rushing down the pass followed by the beaters, capless and perspiring. The ground is strewn with dead and dying, the sportsmen leave their posts and each claims his deer (many more claims being made for the large than for the small ones); the dogs are let loose after the wounded, and thus the most successful drive of the season comes to an end.
The ponies which have conveyed the sportsmen up the mountain now come in useful to carry home the dead beasts; and, in the evening, after dinner, the ladies, in their dainty dresses and flashing diamonds, come out across the yard to inspect the trophies of the chase which are laid out on the ground in front of the larder; while the weird and fantastic scene is lighted up by blazing torches held aloft by kilted Highlanders.
Diane Chasseresse.
SHOOTING.
By Lady Boynton.
"The reason firm, the temperate will,
Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill."
"A mingled yarn—good and ill together."