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Words: 20577 in 9 pages
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a looker-on to suppose him insane.
There is a method in his madness, however. This remarkable adjustment of the white cloth is supposed to transform the man into a bull or other horned animal. He pretends to paw the earth, tosses his make-believe horns, turns round and round, pretending to scratch himself in true bovine fashion. It is irresistibly comic to watch him, and a little attention generally pleases him to such an extent that he will redouble his efforts and multiply his ridiculous pranks until the spectator is thrown into convulsions of laughter.
There are several distinct varieties of quail in India; they frequent open places near rivers, keeping near the ground when flying, and running rapidly among the grasses. The hunters spread fine nets around two sides of the field, and at the end they place a large cage with one or more decoy birds inside.
The idiotic-looking cow has all his wits about him. He proceeds warily; his keen eye detects the coveys of quail, and sees which way they are running. He is no more like a cow than that respectable animal is like a cucumber, but his ruse succeeds wonderfully. He moves about, tosses his head, switches his ingeniously contrived tail, and so manoeuvres that he keeps the running quail away from the unprotected edges of the field.
When they get to the verge protected by the net they begin to take alarm. They are probably a little uncertain about the peculiar-looking "old cow" behind them, and running along the net, they see the decoy quail apparently feeding in great security and comfort. The V-shaped mouth of the large basket cage looks invitingly open. The puzzling nets are barring the way, and the cow is gradually closing up behind.
As the hunter moves along, he rubs two pieces of dry stick gently up and down his thigh with one hand, thus producing a crackling sound. It is not enough to startle the birds into flight, but alarms them sufficiently to make them get out of the way. One bird, perhaps a little bolder than the others, irritated by the queer crackling sound, now enters the basket, when the others follow like a flock of sheep, and once in, the puzzling shape of the entrance prevents their exit.
Hunters will not unfrequently bag twenty or thirty brace of quail in one field by this absurdly appearing but ingenious method.
MAY I COME IN?
May I come in? My little Grace Peeps round the door with laughing face. I lift my head, and feign surprise At wistful mouth and roguish eyes.
I know she'll trip across to me, And give me kisses, one, two, three. May she come in? Of course she may-- The sweetest thing I've seen to-day.
CHATS ABOUT PHILATELY.
BY J. J. CASEY.
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