Fish, Flesh and Fowl.

Having disposed of agonised sports and put the criminal classes out of court, let us turn to naturalised sport, which is so assiduously advertised to attract the tourist. With the hearty disapproval of the Tourist Department, the whole-hearted disavowal of the Publicity Department, the deep disgust of the Railway Department and the deeper distrust of my readers (if any), I propose to postulate preposterously upon the sporting chances offered by our Grand National cross-country hunts. As we all know, by studying the windows of fishmongers, New Zealand teems with fish, flesh and fowl accessible to the hand of the hunter; i.e., the fish in the water, the flesh on the land, and the fowl in the air. The hunter who knows his book of birds and beasts, therefore, will not make the mistake of stalking the wapiti with whoopee, the “rainbow” with a spade, or the wild duck with a syphon or other aerated weapon. page 14 Let us get our hooks into fishing first. Much has been told about fishing, but only half will bear repeating. I knew a fisherman who averred that he had been chased by a fish, which proves that fishermen are what we all know they are.