60 THE DEER OF EPPING FOREST.
with a light wind—and the ground dry, a most important thing in our
favour ; for, had the coverts been wet, the labour of shifting the nets
would have been considerably increased. As it was, each net, when
gathered up into a long sack like a hop-pocket, required four men to
transport it. Had it been wet, its weight would have been doubled.
Park Wood hangs against the side of a hill; below it is a deep coombe,
and on the opposite side a treeless down, with here and there a
rugged mass of flint cropping up through the smooth, short turf-
As we gazed upon the wood across the valley, it seemed to hang like
a picture against the down. We could see the beaters enter on the
left, and move steadily towards the top right-hand corner, where we
knew the nets were placed. At intervals, the leaves being off, we
could catch a glimpse of the startled roes as they moved furtively
amongst the hazels, now dashing onward like hares, now pausing to
look back and listen, with their large brown ears thrown forward in
sharp profile against the silvery bark of the ash. It was a sight to
gladden the eyes of a huntsman. Nothing seemed wanting but the
"music," and we almost longed for a cry of hounds to complete our
enjoyment of the scene. But hounds on this occasion would have
frustrated all our plans. They would have moved the deer too fast,
driven them out of the coverts, and we should probably not have
caught one. It was the steady advance of a line of beaters that we
wanted; now hanging back on the left, now sweeping round on the
right, then onwards and upwards, gradually giving the deer the proper
direction, until about twenty or thirty yards from the net, when a
judicious wave of the hat by a man in ambush would cause a sudden
headlong rush, and the next moment a brown struggling mass would
be enveloped in the yielding toils. From Park Wood, with four now
in the van, we proceeded to Meriden Wood, where several deer broke
covert before our preparations were completed. The toils, however,
were not laid here in vain, for we took a fine buck with horns in
velvet, and a well-grown young doe.
We had now as many as were needed, without having quitted
Mr. Pleydell's ground ; but, at the invitation of Mr. Hambro, and in
the hope of being able to secure a brace for the Zoological Society,
in whose gardens the roe deer happened to be unrepresented, we
turned towards Milton Abbey, and proceeded to draw the lovely
wooded slopes of Delcombe, now moving a pheasant, now flushing
a woodcock by the way, while, from time to time, the rabbits seemed
to vie with each other in showing the deer the way to the nets. But