Beyond the meadow there was a cornfield which extended across to a preserved wood.

But the open stubble afforded no cover--any one walking in it could be seen--so that the pheasant had to be got at from one side only.

It was necessary also that he should be shot dead without fluttering of wings, the wood being so near.
The afternoon sun, shining in a cloudless sky--it was a still October day--beat hot against the western side of the hedge as I noiselessly walked beside it.

In the aftermath, green but flowerless, a small flock of sheep were feeding--one with a long briar clinging to his wool.

They moved slowly before me; a thing I wanted; for behind sheep almost any game can be approached.
I have also frequently shot rabbits that were out feeding, by the aid of a herd of cows.