Hunting for Grouse.
" Occasionally a mighty Nimrod from the city comes out to hunt game in my neighbourhood," said a Greenfield farmer not long since.
" A few days ago I saw a swell of a chap edging up through my sugar bush to the wheat field. He had on long-legged boots, and was togged and belted and strapped out in regular hunter fashion. He looked just too purty for anything. He carried a darling of a gun, and he went dodging around as if he expected to start up a Bengal tiger from behind every stump. I took a short cut to the barn and turned the old. peacock loose. The old bird understood what was wanted of him. He pulled down his eye at me and started for the back lots. I followed down along the fence, and pretty soon I saw that swell hunter break cover from the woods. He was after quail, and he soon sighted the peacock. The. bird had his tail fanned out and his head up, and could be seen half a mile away. Nimrod gob his gun off liis shoulder and began to creep up, and by-and-bye he blazed. I saw the whole charge of shot tear into the ground yards away from the old bird, but he knew his business. He fell down, wings and legs flopping, and pretty soon he expired. Tho young man with the darling of a gun reached him about the same time as I did. " Beautiful shot !" says he. " I reckon,'' says I ; " but what are you out after ?"
" Grouse," says he, " and this is the finest one I ever saw."
" Grouse, you numskull ; but you have killed my peacock !"
Well, the usual results followed. His chin began to quiver, the cold sweat started out, and he wanted to know how much I would take to let shim off. I went him to the house, to see the old woman. She has got a way of wiping her eyes and choking her voice over the death of that peacock which always brings in Sdols. extra. She let this young swell off with lOdols., which is tlu* usual price; and as he started down the highway the old bird got up and marched back to the barn with a chuckle that set every hen laughing. That's five times we've played it on the swell Nimrods within sis months, and I expect more fun this summer than a horse can draw.— American paper.
Hunting for Grouse.
Otago Witness, Issue 1805, 25 June 1886, Page 27
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