Memoirs of a griffin : $b Or, A cadet's first year in IndiaBellew, Francis John
General
Memoirs of a griffin : $b Or, A cadet's first year in India
Bellew, Francis John
India -- Description and travel
Captain Belfield, from his perfect knowledge of the language and the
people—whom, I observed, he always treated with great kindness—was soon
able to ascertain the spot in the neighbourhood of the river where the
game was to be found (there is but little, comparatively, in this part
of Bengal), and which I should probably have been long in discovering;
to them we accordingly went, and found hares, black partridges, and
abundance of real snipes, which I perceived did not differ in the
smallest degree from English ones; and I had the supreme felicity of
bagging something more respectable than paddy-birds and snippets, which
I afterwards treated with proper contempt.
The captain, although he had been so long on the retired list as a
sportsman, fired a capital good stick nevertheless, and knocked the
black partridges about, right and left, in great style; indeed, he once
or twice, to borrow a not very delicate sporting phrase, “wiped my nose”
in a very off-hand manner, proofs of his powers as a marksman with which
I could have readily dispensed; as next probably, to a smack in the
face, there are few things more disagreeable than having your “nose
wiped.”
The black partridge of India, I must inform the reader, is a beautiful
bird; its breast (_i.e._, the male’s), glossy shining black, spangled
with round and clearly defined white spots; its haunts are the long
grass on the borders of jheels and marshes, from whence it creeps, in
the mornings and evenings, into the neighbouring cultivation.
When flushed, up he goes, as straight as a line, to a certain elevation,
and then off with him, at a right angle, like a dart. He is by no means
an easy shot, though, from his mode of rising, it would appear
otherwise.
It will be long ere I forget the thrill of pleasure I experienced when I
dropped my first black partridge on this occasion, and how pompously,
after ascertaining his specific gravity, I consigned him to my bag,
taking him out about every five minutes, to indulge in another
examination. It is difficult to express the contempt with which I then
viewed my quondam friends, the snippets and paddy-birds.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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