Part 18

The forward hand was an outcome of pigeon shooting, like the very straight stock. The first can be theoretically defended by those who do not require to swing with their game, just as the over straight stock is a good expedient for shooting a little more over a rising pigeon than the unassisted intention of the shooter would accomplish.

The method of pushing out the left arm may be good for some people and bad for others. There is not the slightest doubt that there are not only individuals who do best with either plan, but that different methods of shooting are each most suitable to different individuals.

Individuals may be divided into those who have long arms and narrow shoulders, and those who have short arms and are wide between the shoulders. The former class have much more room for play with three sides of the triangle (of gun, left arm, and width of body), always kept at nearly the same length, than have the short-armed, wide-chested men, who, in swinging the gun a greater degree to the right than they turn the body, increase the necessity for one long side to the angle much more than the others do. But the hand holding the barrel is not a fixture, and can slide down to the fore end as the necessity for the long left arm increases by swinging to the right. This is obviously the Prince of Wales’ method. However, when the swing round to the right is very far, the position of the fore end stops the hand at a certain point.

But the various manners of shooting also seem to necessitate two different methods of holding with the left hand. Much has been said about the necessity for holding well forward, but the reasons advanced in support of this method do not bear examination by the light of physics. It has been urged that the outstretched arm properly relieves the trigger hand from the necessity of assisting in the aim. It is doubtful whether it should, and it is quite certain it does not, relieve the trigger hand, but on the contrary throws more work upon it. The proof of this is very easy. Let the gun be grasped in the centre of gravity by the left hand and presented, the trigger hand being unemployed. It will be found a difficult but a possible operation. Then shift the left hand up the barrel as far as it will go, and try to bring the gun up from the “ready” to the “present.” This will be found much more difficult, and probably impossible. Obviously, then, the outstretched arm is not the way to hold a gun if the left arm is to do the pushing and pulling about. This reason, which has been very much relied upon, breaks down entirely; but that is not to say that the forward hand is wrong, but only that its advantages are but little understood, although they are fully appreciated.

In order to present a gun at a point of aim that is still, probably the extended arm is always the best, whether the point of aim is a point in front of fast crossing game, or a motionless object, or a straight-away bird. This can be supported by another very simple experiment. The gun presented at a point is much more apt to “wobble” than when it is intentionally kept moving in any one direction. One of its worst “wobbles” is a drop of the muzzle at the instant the trigger is pulled. It is caused by sympathetic action of the muscles. In order to avoid “wobble” of any kind, it is best to hold the hands as far on either side of, or rather in front and behind, the centre of gravity as possible. To try this, let the gun be presented and aimed without the butt resting on the shoulder; first, with the hands in the usual positions; second, with one hand on either side to right and left of the centre of gravity—that is, just in front of the breech. The tendency to “wobble” will be easily observed in the latter holding and aiming. If one should be so steady as not to see it, then a trial of the same thing in a high side wind will very quickly show which is the steadiest way of holding.

But even if we are such clever shots as to require no swing to get on to “the spot” for the first barrel, we shall certainly require to swing for the second shot, or, alternatively, adopt the plan of taking the gun down from the shoulder and re-presenting it. For this reason the position of the left hand is not ideal for the second barrel when it is outstretched to the full length of the arm, or when the arm is shortened with the elbow bent is the position ideal for getting on a point without swing. It is doubtful whether such a thing as the latter can happen on fast crossing game, because there is obviously unconscious swing in the act of bringing the gun from the “ready” to the “present.”

There is no doubt that the learner, as well as the gunner who is temporarily out of form, are best served by a method in which they can most easily swing the gun, because it is by the act of swinging the gun with the game that good form is so often recovered, through increase of confidence, after a partial absence without leave. But the act of swinging can be done as much with the body as with the arms, and certainly lateral swing can be very effective when partly accomplished in this way.

AT WARTER PRIORY. LORD LOVAT IN THE DALES ]

One of the most fertile causes of missing is swinging round with the arms and shoulders, and not with the hips. Obviously, if the shooter can always keep facing his game, the triangle sides made with gun, arm, and body all remain of the same length, and besides, the head and eye remain relatively in the same position, and absolutely in the same line with the rib and sight of the gun and game. If, then, a shooter can rely upon thus facing his game, he has more need of bringing up the gun to a point than he has of muscular contraction of the arms in pushing and pulling about the gun, in swinging with the game.

Still, we can none of us afford to be handicapped, and there are occasions when the arms must swing for all they are worth, and for this reason an easy position for the left hand is desirable, although that position need not necessarily be looked for on the trigger guard, or even on the fore end of the gun. There is a medium in all things, and assuredly those who strain to get their hands more forward than looks comfortable are likely to miss in consequence. This remark is made because the author has seen some beginners striving to reach forward, because they have read that it is proper; whereas they looked as strained as if they were on the rack, and besides, killed no game.

One of the most awkward attempts is to try to follow game overhead and fail to get enough in front to fire. There is then no time to turn round. When turning round is necessary, it should be done with the gun at the “ready,” not at the “present,” and not until the foot is planted firmly should the gun be raised. Any following round with the gun, or even with the eye if the game is going over, will not prove very deadly as a rule. The late Lord Hill and his brother, the Hon. G. Hill, were as good pheasant shots as anybody is, or has been, and it was very obvious that they both went round and planted a firm foot before looking for their game from overhead.

The two positions of holding the left hand may be seen in the shooting of the Prince of Wales, with the straight arm, and in Mr. R. Rimington Wilson, with the bent left elbow.

The question has often been asked, What should one do in case a neighbour hits a bird that is obviously going away to die? It seems to depend on what your neighbour would wish: a bad sportsman, if that is not a paradox, may ask you why you are shooting his dead birds. That is only because he would rather run the risk of leaving wounded game than lose the off chance of claiming another bird. But a good sportsman would generally know by the appearance of the game whether it was likely to fall within reasonable distance; also he would know that by the unwritten laws of sport first blood constitutes ownership without any claim being made, and there should be no false pride that prevents wounded creatures being added to the bag as expeditiously as possible. There is another consideration. It is the worst possible form to cause much time to be occupied in looking for wounded game. It spoils the sport.

At the same time, one who values the good opinion of others will avoid a practice of sharing birds, or shooting at those more properly the targets of the next man. There is often a doubt as to whose shot a bird properly is. It is not good that both shooters should decline the chance for the sake of the other, but generally one man knows the other’s form so well, that if the latter does not take the bird at one particular instant of time, it may be taken as left alone for the former to deal with.

Probably anyone who remembers the sound advice given in

“Be to others kind and true, As you’d have others be to you,”

will make no mistake in shooting form, and will certainly never allow his gun to rake the flanks of his neighbours as he swings his body in walking in line, nor will he allow a gun at any instant, loaded or unloaded, in loading or unloading, to point at anybody for a fraction of a second. Besides which, he will rather let off a dozen woodcocks, unshot at, than run the risk of putting out beaters’ eyes, or of being told that, “although that gun seems so harmless on the game, it has probably got some shot in it.” Besides this, a shooter is responsible for the care, and also the appearance of care, of his loader, and the two things are not quite the same; for although care implies that shooters’ bodies are safe, it does not always refrain from attacking their nerves. For instance, when empty guns are jerked about, aligning everybody in turn, it is quite safe for the bodies, but very bad for the nerves of those who do not know the guns are unloaded.

Drawing for places is the best plan of posting guns. The author has found any other way, such as trying to give the best places to the honoured guest, very unsatisfactory. You never can give the best places to some people, for they do not know how to stand still. The writer has sometimes had the best shooting himself when he has taken the worst place, simply because the “honoured guests” were acting as “flankers,” and sending the game elsewhere that should have gone to them. To show yourself as little as you like, but to move not at all, is obviously a part of good shooting form.

It is hardly necessary to say that it is not the best of form to tell a fellow-guest that the management of the beat is “rotten,” and then to make some remark that your host translates into flattery. The fellow-guest may have taken your criticism as a useful hint to the host already, with your own “great authority” attached to it.

Somewhere the author has heard that His Majesty has expressed his opinion that a pheasant shared is a good deal worse than a pheasant missed; and in the head keeper’s room at Sandringham hang some verses which therefore obviously have the King’s approval, the more surely because they hang there in spite of their greater precept than polish. They appear to round off a chapter on form in shooting with a Royal behest. Part of them read—

“Never, never let your gun Pointed be at anyone: That it may unloaded be, Matters not the least to me. You may kill or you may miss, But at all times think of this: All the pheasants ever bred Won’t repay for one man dead.”

CRACK SHOTS—I

Bailey’s Magazine initiated an interest-provoking scheme when it set its readers to work to solve the difficult problem of which twelve men were the most expert in each branch of sport. It started with polo, in an article by Mr. Buckmaster, wherein the play of each man was reviewed in the true impartial spirit of criticism. The names had just then almost been officially given to the world in the Hurlingham “recent form” list; and this the readers of Bailey confirmed. In one article the twelve best fishermen were voted for; and fly fishing, unlike polo, is a private sport; unlike shooting, it is not even carried out in private parties, and really there was nothing to go upon except the literary efforts of the fishermen voted upon. Because a man can write and can interest fishermen, he need not necessarily be a clever angler. Francis Francis was the one; by all accounts he was very far from the other. Consequently, the voting for anglers of highest form was on a totally different basis from that of the less private as well as the wholly public sports. Had we set the ballot-box going for crack marksmen (exclusive of riflemen and pigeon shots) sixty years ago, the man who must have come to the top was Colonel Hawker. He would have been there by right of the story he told to young shooters, for whether he was the superb marksman suggested by his writings or not, there was nobody to challenge it—no one who had shown that he knew woodcraft and watercraft half as well. Probably there has never been anyone since who could hold a candle to the Colonel for a complete knowledge of the latter art and science (for gunnery was as much a concern of his as the habits of fowl). Had we voted, we must inevitably have placed him top of the tree; because game shooting then was not a thing to be conducted in large parties, but was a concern only of my friend, my pointer, and myself. There were no spectators except the beaters, who were up the trees to mark, and the gamekeeper, who carried a game-bag, and perhaps rode a shooting pony.

Pigeon shooting did a little, a very little indeed, to make for publicity years afterwards; and there were occasional matches shot at partridges, but these were sometimes more by way of testing the game capacity of estates than the shooting skill of the marksmen. Thus on one occasion there was a match shot in the south-west corner of Scotland and in Norfolk on the same day, and although Norfolk won by a little, the bags were near enough together to prove that the two districts were then very equal as natural partridge country. That they are very unequal now only proves that the more care has been bestowed upon game in the Eastern Counties.

But had there been any voting for crack marksmen in those days, it is certain that, after Hawker, the men who were most talked of (the match makers) would have come out next. They alone were heard of by all sportsmen, and the sporting magazines had chronicled their prowess. Other shooters were “born to flush unseen, and waste their powder on the desert hare”—to misquote to fit the occasion.

In these times in a sense it is different. Men do see each other shoot in parties up to fourteen. But it is clear that when parties, even half as big, are constantly changing, and meeting fresh guns every time, that the form of any individual amongst them soon gets to be known as accurately as that of any race-horse in training at headquarters. This is how it happens that it has been possible to select a dozen men of mark and marksmanship difficult to displace in the consensus of opinion of the men they meet and shoot with.

But just as the majority were never heard of when George Osbaldeston, Lord Kennedy, Horatio Ross, Coke of Norfolk, Colonel Anson, and the rest, were shooting matches, so it may very well be that the best shots of our day never shoot in big parties, and are not known as good shots at all. There are still large numbers of shooters so much sportsmen that they think of woodcraft and sportsmanship first, and only of marksmanship as a secondary and necessary accomplishment.

What, after all, is putting a bullet into the heart of a stag at 100 or 150 yards distant? Any gun-maker’s assistant could make sure of doing it at the standing deer, provided he did not happen to suffer from buck fever, and unless he was a sportsman at heart he would not. But to stalk that stag is a problem of a very different character. The novice will probably make a mess of the simple business of following the heels of his stalker—he who carries his rifle, finds the stag, stalks him, puts “his gentleman” in position, places the rifle in his hand, and tells him when to fire. When the latter can do all that without the stalker’s assistance, he may, and will, flatter himself that the mere shooting straight was quite an elementary stage in the art of woodcraft, and that marksmanship counts for very little indeed in the most fashionable and most sporting use of firearms in Britain. Besides this, stalking is as private as fishing with the dry fly; and again, had our ancestors had to select a stalker for premier position, it would have been Scrope first and the rest nowhere, just on the same grounds as before: Scrope had described his splendid sport in his book.