Part 6 (1/2)
A great deal of poaching used to be accomplished by nets, into which both partridges and pheasants were driven. If skilfully alarmed--that is, not too much hurried--these birds will run a long way before rising, and, if their tracks are known, may be netted in considerable numbers.
But of recent years, since pheasants especially have become so costly a luxury to keep, the preserves and roosting-places have been more effectually watched, and this plan has become more difficult to put in practice. In fact, the local man thinks twice before he puts his foot inside a preserve, and, if possible, prefers to pick up outside. If a preserve is broken into the birds are at once missed, and there is a hue and cry; but the loss of outsiders is not immediately noticed.
The wire is, perhaps, the regular poacher's best implement, and ground game his most profitable source of income. Hares exist in numbers upon the downs, especially near the localities where the great coursing meetings are held, where a dozen may be kicked out of the gra.s.s in five minutes. In these districts of course the downs are watched; but hares cannot be kept within bounds, and wander miles and miles at night, limping daintily with their odd gait (when undisturbed) along the lanes leading into the ploughed fields on the lower slopes and plains. The hills--wide and almost pathless, and practically dest.i.tute of fences-- where the foot leaves no trail on the short gra.s.s and elastic turf, are peculiarly favourable to illicit sport.
Though apparently roaming aimlessly, hares have their regular highways or ”runs;” and it is the poacher's business to discover which of these narrow paths are most beaten by continuous use. He then sets his wire, as early in the evening as compatible with safety to himself, for hares are abroad with the twilight.
Long practice and delicate skill are essential to successful snaring.
First, the loop itself into which the hare is to run his head must be of the exact size. If it be too small he will simply thrust it aside; if too large his body will slip through, and his hind leg will be captured: being crooked, it draws the noose probably. Then if caught by the hind leg, the wretched creature, mad with terror, will shriek his loudest; and a hare shrieks precisely like a human being in distress. The sound, well understood by the watchers, will at once reveal what is going forward. But there may be no watchers about; and in that case the miserable animal will tug and tug during the night till the wire completely bares the lower bone of the leg, and in the morning, should any one pa.s.s, his leaps and bounds and rolls will of course be seen.
Sometimes he twists the wire till it snaps, and so escapes--but probably to die a lingering death, since the copper or bra.s.s is pretty sure to mortify the flesh. No greater cruelty can be imagined. The poacher, however, is very anxious to avoid it, as it may lead to detection; and if his wire is properly set the animal simply hangs himself, brought up with a sudden jerk which kills him in two seconds, and with less pain than is caused by the sting of the sportsman's cartridge.
Experience is required to set the loop at the right height above the ground. It is measured by placing the clenched fist on the earth, and then putting the extended thumb of the other open hand upon it, stretching it out as in the action of spanning, when the tip of the little finger gives the right height for the lower bend of the loop-- that is, as a rule; but clever poachers vary it slightly to suit the conformation of the ground. A hare carries his head much higher than might be thought; and he is very strong, so that the plug which holds the wire must be driven in firmly to withstand his first convulsive struggle. The small upright stick whose cleft suspends the wire across the ”run” must not be put too near the hare's path, or he will see it, and it must be tolerably stiff, or his head will push the wire aside.
Just behind a ”tussocky” bunch of gra.s.s is a favourite spot to set a noose; the gra.s.s partially conceals it.
The poacher revisits his snares very early in the morning, and if he is judicious invariably pulls them up, whether successful or not, because they may be seen in the day. Half the men who are fined by the magistrates have been caught by keepers who, having observed wires, let them remain; but keep a watch and take the offenders red-handed. The professional poacher never leaves his wires set up all day, unless a sudden change of weather and the duck's frost previously mentioned prevent him from approaching them, and then he abandons those particular snares for ever. For this reason he does not set up more than he can easily manage. If he gets three hares a night (wholesale price _2 s.h.i.+llings 6 pence_ each) he is well repaid. Rabbits are also wired in great numbers. The loop is a trifle smaller, and should be just a span from the ground.
But the ferret is the poacher's chief a.s.sistant in rabbiting: it takes two men, one on each side of the ”bury,” and a ferret which will not ”lie in”--i.e. stay in the hole and feast till overcome with sleep.
Ferrets differ remarkably in disposition, and the poacher chooses his with care; otherwise, if the ferret will not come out the keepers are certain to find him the next day hunting on his own account. Part of the secret is to feed him properly, so that he may have sufficient appet.i.te to hunt well and yet be quickly satisfied with a taste of blood. Skill is essential in setting up the nets at the mouth of the holes; but beyond the mere knack, easily acquired, there is little to learn in ferreting.
The greatest difficulty with any kind of game is to get home un.o.bserved with the bag. Keepers are quite aware of this; and in the case of large estates, leaving one or two a.s.sistants near the preserves, they patrol the by-ways and footpaths, while the police watch the cross-roads and lanes which lead to the villages. If a man comes along at an exceptionally early hour with coat-pockets violently bulging, there is a _prima facie_ case for searching him. One advantage of wiring or netting over the gun is here very noticeable: anything shot bleeds and stains the pocket--a suspicious sign even when empty; strangulation leaves no traces.
Without a knowledge of the policeman's beat and the keeper's post the poacher can do nothing on a large scale. He has, however, no great trouble in ascertaining these things; the labourers who do not themselves poach sympathise warmly and whisper information. There is reason to think that men sometimes get drunk, or sufficiently so to simulate intoxication very successfully, with the express purpose of being out all night with a good excuse, and so discovering the policeman's ambuscade. Finding a man whom he knows to be usually sober overtaken with drink in a lonely road, where he injures none but himself, the policeman good-naturedly leads him home with a caution only.
The receivers of game are many and various. The low beer-shop keepers are known to purchase large quant.i.ties. Sometimes a local pork-butcher in a small way buys and transmits it, having facilities for sending hampers, etc, unsuspected. Sometimes the carriers are the channel of communication; and there is no doubt the lower cla.s.s of game dealers in the provincial towns get a good deal in this way. The London dealer, who receives large consignments at once, has of course no means of distinguis.h.i.+ng poached from other game. The men who purchase the rabbits ferreted by the keepers during the winter in the woods and preserves, and who often buy 100 pounds worth or more in the season, have peculiar opportunities for conveying poached animals, carefully stowed for them in a ditch on their route. This fact having crept out has induced gentlemen to remove these rabbit contracts from local men, and to prefer purchasers from a distance, who must take some time to get acquainted with the district poachers.
The raiders, who come in gangs armed with guns and shoot in the preserves, are usually the sc.u.m of manufacturing towns, led or guided by a man expelled through his own bad conduct from the village, and who has a knowledge of the ground. These gangs display no skill; relying on their numbers, arms, and known desperation of character to protect them from arrest, as it does in nine cases out of ten. Keepers and policemen cannot be expected to face such brutes as these fellows; they do sometimes, however, and get shattered with shot.
The ”mouchers” sneak about the hedgerows on Sundays with lurcher dogs, and snap up a rabbit or a hare; they do not do much damage except near great towns, where they are very numerous. Shepherds, also, occasionally mouch--their dogs being sometimes very expert; and ploughmen set wires in the gateways or gaps where they have noticed the track of a hare, but it is only for their own eating, and is not of much consequence in comparison with the work of the real local professional.
These regular hands form a cla.s.s which are probably more numerous now than ever; the reasons are--first, the high value of game and the immense demand for it since poultry has become so dear, and, secondly, the ease of transmission now that railways spread into the most outlying districts and carry baskets or parcels swiftly out of reach. Poaching, in fact, well followed, is a lucrative business.
Some occasional poaching is done with no aid but the hand, especially in severe weather, which makes all wild animals ”dummel,” in provincial phrase--i.e. stupid, slow to move. Even the hare is sometimes caught by hand as he crouches in his form. It requires a practised eye, that knows precisely where to look among the gra.s.s, to detect him hidden in the bunch under the dead, dry bennets. An inexperienced person chancing to see a hare sitting like this would naturally stop short in walking to get a better view; whereupon the animal, feeling that he was observed, would instantly make a rush. You must persuade the hare that he is unseen; and so long as he notices no start or sign of recognition--his eye is on you from first entering the field--he will remain still, believing that you will pa.s.s.
The poacher, having marked his game, looks steadily in front of him, never turning his head, but insensibly changes his course and quietly approaches sidelong. Then, in the moment of pa.s.sing, he falls quick as lightning on his knee, and seizes the hare just behind the poll. It is the only place where the sudden grasp would hold him in his convulsive terror--he is surprisingly powerful--and almost ere he can shriek (as he will do) the left hand has tightened round the hind legs. Stretching him to his full length across the knee, the right thumb, with a peculiar twist, dislocates his neck, and he is dead in an instant. There is something of the hangman's knack in this, which is the invariable way of killing rabbits when ferreted or caught alive; and yet it is the most merciful, for death is instantaneous. It is very easy to sprain the thumb while learning the trick.
A poacher will sometimes place his hat gently on the ground, when first catching sight of a sitting hare, and then stealthily approach on the opposite side. The hare watches the hat, while the real enemy comes up unawares, or, if both are seen, he is in doubt which way to dash. On a dull, cold day hares will sit till the sportsman's dogs are nearly on them, almost till he has to kick them out. At other times in the same locality they are, on the contrary, too wild. Occasionally a labourer, perhaps a ”fogger,” crossing the meadows with slow steps, finds a rabbit sitting in like manner among the gra.s.s or in a dry furrow. Instantly he throws himself all a-sprawl upon the ground, with the hope of pinning the animal to the earth. The manoeuvre, however, frequently fails, and the rabbit slips away out of his very hands.
The poacher is never at rest; there is no season when his marauding expeditions cease for awhile; he acknowledges no ”close time” whatever.
Almost every month has its appropriate game for him, and he can always turn his hand to something. In the very heat of the summer there are the young rabbits, for which there is always a sale in the towns, and the leverets, which are easily picked up by a lurcher dog.
I have known a couple of men take a pony and trap for this special purpose, and make a pleasant excursion over hill and dale, through the deep country lanes, and across the open down land, carrying with them two or three such dogs to let loose as opportunity offers. Their appearance as they rattle along is certainly not prepossessing; the expression of their canine friends trotting under the trap, or peering over the side, stamps them at the first glance as ”snappers up of unconsidered trifles;” but you cannot arrest these gentlemen peacefully driving on the ”king's highway” simply because they have an ugly look about them. From the trap they get a better view than on foot; standing up they can see over a moderately high hedge, and they can beat a rapid retreat if necessary, with the aid of a wiry pony. Pa.s.sing by some meadows, they note a goodly number of rabbits feeding in the short aftermath. They draw up by a gateway, and one of them dismounts. With the dogs he creeps along behind the hedge (the object being to get between the bunnies and their holes), and presently sends the dogs on their mission. The lurchers are tolerably sure of catching a couple-- young rabbits are neither so swift nor so quick at doubling as the older ones. Before the farmer and his men, who are carting the summer ricks in an adjacent field, can quite comprehend what the unusual stir is about yonder, the poachers are off, jogging comfortably along, with their game hidden under an old sack or some straw.
Their next essay is among the ploughed fields, where the corn is ripening and as yet no reapers are at work, so that the coast is almost clear. Here they pick up a leveret, and perhaps the dogs chop a weakly young partridge, unable to fly well, in the hedge. The keeper has just strolled through the copses bordering on the road, and has left them, as he thinks, safe. They watch his figure slowly disappearing in the distance from a bend of the lane, and then send the dogs among the underwood. In the winter men will carry ferrets with them in a trap like this.
The desperate gangs who occasionally sweep the preserves, defying the keepers in their strength of numbers and prestige of violence, sometimes bring with them a horse and cart, not so much for speed of escape as to transport a heavy bag of game. Such a vehicle, driven by one man, will, moreover, often excite no suspicion though it may be filled with pheasants under sacks and hay. A good deal of what may be called casual poaching is also done on wheels.
Some of the landlords of the low beer-houses in the country often combine with the liquor trade the business of dealing in pigs, calves, potatoes, etc, and keep a light cart, or similar conveyance. Now, if any one will notice the more disreputable of these beer-houses, they will observe that there are generally a lot of unkempt, rough-looking dogs about them. These, of course, follow their master when he goes on his short journeys from place to place; and they are quite capable of mischief. Such men may not make a business of poaching, yet if in pa.s.sing a preserve the dogs stray and bring back something eatable, why, it is very easy to stow it under the seat with the potatoes. Sometimes a man is bold enough to carry a gun in this way--to jump out when he sees a chance and have a shot, and back and off before any one knows exactly what is going on.
Somehow there always seems to be a market for game out of season: it is ”pa.s.sed” somewhere, just as thieves pa.s.s stolen jewellery. So also fish, even when manifestly unfit for table, in the midst of sp.a.w.ning time, commands a ready sale if overlooked by the authorities. It is curious that people can be found to purchase fish in such a condition; but it is certain that they do. In the spring, when one would think bird and beast might be permitted a breathing s.p.a.ce, the poacher is as busy as ever after eggs. Pheasant and partridge eggs are largely bought and sold in the most nefarious manner. It is suspected that some of the less respectable breeders who rear game birds like poultry for sale, are not too particular of whom they purchase eggs; and, as we have before observed, certain keepers are to blame in this matter also.
Plovers' eggs, again, are an article of commerce in the spring; they are protected now by law, but it is to be feared that the enactment is to a great extent a dead letter. The eggs of the peewit, or lapwing, as the bird is variously called, are sought for with great perseverance, and accounted delicacies. These birds frequent commons where the gra.s.s is very rough, and interspersed with bunches of rushes, marshy places, and meadows liable to be flooded in the winter. The nest on the ground is often made in the depression left by a horse's hoof in the soft earth-- any slight hole, in fact; and it is so concealed, or rather differs so little from the appearance of the general sward around, as to be easily pa.s.sed unnoticed. You may actually step on it, and so smash the eggs, before you see it.