This is their habit--and the closer you are underneath them the less chance of their perceiving you: for a pigeon perched rarely looks straight downwards.

If flying, it is just the reverse; for then they seem to see under them quicker than in any other direction.
Slowly lifting the long barrel of the gun--it was fortunate the sunlight glancing on the bright barrel was not reflected towards the oak--I got it to bear upon the bird; but then came a doubt.

It was all eight-and-twenty yards across the angle of the meadow to the oak--a tremendous long shot under the circumstances.

For they would not trust us with the large copper powder-flask, but only with a little pistol-flask (it had belonged to the pair of pistols we tried to find), and we were ordered not to use more than a charge and a half at a time.
That was quite enough to kill blackbirds.

(The noise of the report was always a check in this way; such a trifle of powder only made a slight puff.) Shot there was in plenty--a whole tobacco-pipe bowl full, carefully measured out of the old yellow canvas money-bag that did for a shot belt.