Sketches From My Life: By The Late Admiral Hobart PashaHobart-Hampden, Augustus Charles
History
Sketches From My Life: By The Late Admiral Hobart Pasha
Hobart-Hampden, Augustus Charles
Adventure and adventurers; United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Blockades
and certainly was the largest stag I have ever met with, either in
Scotland or in Austria. During the sixteen years that I have passed in
the East I have only succeeded in killing four of these splendid
animals. This I attribute very much to the want of proper deerhounds,
which unfortunately I have not been able to procure.
The crowd of beaters make so much noise that the deer slip away at the
sides of the thick covers unseen, whereas dogs would drive them more in
a straight line towards the shooters if they are properly posted. In
addition to this, it is always a great advantage when the hounds give
tongue, and so warn the sportsman of the whereabouts of the game. These
hounds, called 'colpoys,' can be procured in Roumania and Hungary. There
is another description of deer found near the sea-coast in some parts of
Asia Minor, which I will describe. It is in fact the pure wild fallow
deer that stocks the parks of Europe, and if I am rightly informed is
only to be found wild in Asia Minor, and even there it is rare.
I understand that in India or in Africa, where there are hundreds of
different sorts of deer, the real fallow is not to be found. While
shooting at a place called Camaris, near to Gallipoli, two years since,
I discovered several herds of these deer, beautiful creatures, wild as
hawks, and accordingly laid myself out to shoot some of them if
possible. I tried driving, stalking, and every manœuvre to circumvent
them, without success. At last one day I started with my beaters to a
place where there were many tracks of fallow deer. I was posted at a
sort of small mountain pen, having on one side of me a young friend of
mine, and at the other a native (these fellows won't go out unless they
are allowed to carry their guns).
Shortly after the beaters had begun to halloo, a fallow hind glided by
between me and my young friend, like a ghost. Not a sound in the wood
gave notice of its approach. It was even quieter in its movements than a
hare would have been. I put up my gun to fire, but seeing my friend's
head right in the way and in a line with its muzzle, I waited a second,
but the deer was gone. I had scarcely got over my disappointment when I
heard the branches breaking in the wood very near to me, and suddenly a
deer sprang right over my head, taking a flying leap, like a hunter
would do over a fence.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account