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next appeared a duiker； and i put the gun to my shoulder and fired repeatedly but without result； since the creature had vanished before i could manage to sight it。
that was a discouraging day； and those that followed it were no better。 one day； i was sitting on a rock in a clearing when a guinea fowl trotted past； followed soon by about twenty other guinea fowl； in single file。 i lifted my gun and shot at each of them。 it was exactly like shooting in a fun fair； with rabbits； or what you like； moving before you on a band。 i missed all twenty of the guinea fowl； and thought how much easier it would be if only they were prepared to keep still。 from this thought my success was born； and since it was based entirely on the habits of guinea fowl； i shall now describe them—from a sportsman’s； not a naturalist’s； point of view。
guinea fowl move in flocks of anywhere from ten to two hundred。 they can be heard a long way off； because of a chink； chink； chinking sound they make； like stones rubbing together under water。 when disturbed； which they regularly are； since this chinking advertises their presence to every enemy for miles around； they set up a raucous plaint and run extremely fast in all directions。 if they stuck to doing this； they would be practically invulnerable； but； no—curiosity is their downfall。 more often than not； before they have run any distance they fly up into trees to see what is going on。 their wings are weak； and once in the trees they are reluctant to launch themselves into space。
having considered these facts and all their implications； i set out one day with the rifle and wandered around until i heard the “chink； chink。” i crept toward it。 then i heaved a large stone at it。 there was a scurrying； and presently seventy…four guinea fowl flew up into trees all around me。 i knew there were seventy…four because i sat on a log counting them and deciding which looked the youngest and fattest。 i then carefully aimed at this one and fired。 the bird started perceptibly； and settled back and watched a leaf that had been dislodged from a frond three feet above its head float down to my feet。 i tried again。 how difficult it is to keep a gun barrel still became apparent to me only now that i had all the time in the world to practice it。 i walked to a nearby tree and laid the barrel against its trunk for support。
the bird i had chosen was about four yards away。 i kept the rifle steady long enough to shoot it in the crop。 it fell； and i dispatched it with another shot； in the eye； and went home with it。 the family； naturally； assumed it had been shot on the wing； and in the eye at that—the first shot going unnoticed—and a letter with this news was at once sent to my brother。
thereafter； my technique； while remaining substantially the same； developed small refinements。 for instance； though a properly trained dog would have been useless to me； we did have a dog perfect for my purposes。 i took him along。 he went full pelt toward the “chink； chink” as soon as he heard it； and by the time i arrived； dozens of guinea fowl were already perched on every tree； watching the dog； who was bouncing and yelling below them； satisfactorily distracting their attention from me while i arranged myself and chose my bird at leisure。
a guinea fowl beset by a yapping dog tends to show uneasiness by turning slowly around and around on its perch； but it turns on its own axis and so presents a more or less stable target。 there was one occasion when a bird sitting on a low bush was so fascinated by the dog that i was able to lean over and pluck it off the branch by the legs。 then i wrung its neck。 i have never before revealed this deplorable incident to a soul。 when i took the fowl home； i explained that the bullet had struck its beak and stunned it； and said carelessly that it sounded very like one of my brother’s more tortuous feats。
i knew very well that when my brother came home； that would be the end of me。 and； in fact； on the evening of his arrival my brother took me into the bush； saying； “now； let’s see you do it。”
the dog went yapping off after a flock of guinea fowl。 i shot negligently at a bird rising into a tree； shrugged； and said self…critically； “damned bad shot。” my brother； of course； saw at once that all sport with that flock was at an end； but the dog continued to whine pointedly under various plump birds while my brother and i walked off in search of airborne targets。
this happened several times。 my mother plained that the larder was empty。 then； luckily； my brother got a duiker that had presented a long shot downhill in bad light。 we ate the duiker for a whole week （the main disadvantage of living in a sportsman’s paradise is the tedium of the diet） and i was able to say that it was altogether unsporting to kill things while we were in no need of meat。 but then there were ten days more of my brother’s holidays to get through； and my exposure was clearly imminent。 i tried to defer it by saying that i was incapable； for psychological reasons； of shooting anything while watched。 i went off into the bush by myself； and my brother secretly followed and caught me in the act of shooting a sitting bird at four or five yards。 i told him his behavior was sneaking and caddish； but he was too shocked to listen。 he felt the blow to the family honor so profoundly that he said nothing that evening at supper。 i think he was wondering how to break it to my father in the least traumatic way。
that night； my brother went out spot…shooting—hunting with a light。 spot…shooting the way he did it was not unsporting； because he saw to it that the chances were substantially on the other side。 only crude types use the headlights of cars； my brother fixed a weak bicycle lamp to his forehead and went forth into the night like a quixotic cyclops。 the usual practice is to fix the eyes of an animal with the light； then walk as close as possible to the hypnotized creature and shoot it。 my brother’s method meant that the creature would be interested but not fixed。 it would have plenty of opportunity to run away。
he returned from that expedition severely depressed。 apparently； he had seen two green eyes fifty yards off。 they had not moved。 he had shouted； but nothing had happened。 he’d switched off his head lamp and fired between the eyes。 they had not moved。 he had fired again。 it was obviously impossible that he could have missed； but he had fired three times more。 then he had walked up to his target convinced that he would find five corpses piled up there。 he had found； instead； two glow…worms on a log。 the incident was such a blow to his pride that he forgot to discuss my case with my parents。 this was； on the whole； lucky for the household； which； after my brother went back to school； i continued to supply with meat until one happy day when i was able to leave for the city and the delights of civilization。
my talents as hunter were useful on one other occasion。 it happened that while in the city i became engaged； or attached—the precise word for this relationship evades me—to a young man who was in every way a sportsman。 his conceptions of honor were intricate； and caused me hours of introspection； as a