excitement when one was taken.

Another interesting moment was when the coupe de l'année was being
made. Parts of the woods were cut down regularly every year, certain
squares marked off. The first day's work was the marking of the big
trees along the alleys which were to remain--a broad red ring around
the trunks being very conspicuous. Then came the thinning of the
trees, cutting off the top branches, and that was really a curious
sight. The men climbed high into the tree, and then hung on to the
trunk with iron clamps on their feet, with points which stuck into the
bark, and apparently gave them a perfectly secure hold, but it looked
dangerous to see them swinging off from the trunk with a sort of axe
in their hands, cutting off the branches with a swift, sharp stroke.
When they finally attacked the big trees that were to come down it was
a much longer affair, and they made slow progress. They knew their
work well, the exact moment when the last blow had been given, and
they must spring aside to get out of the way when the tree fell with a
great crash.

There were usually two or three big battues in November for the
neighbouring farmers and small proprietors. The breakfast always took
place at the keeper's house. We had arranged one room as a
dining-room, and the keeper's wife was a very good cook; her omelette
au lard and civet de lièvre, classic dishes for a shooting breakfast,
were excellent. The repast always ended with a galette aux amandes
made by the chef of the château. I generally went down to the kennels
at the end of the day, and it was a pretty sight when the party
emerged from the woods, first the shooters, then a regiment of beaters
(men who track the game), the game cart with a donkey bringing up the
rear--the big game, chevreuil or boar, at the bottom of the cart, the