The only way
was to put salt on their tails. There would be no difficulty in doing
that, I thought, and how delighted I was to know that birds could be
caught so easily! Off I ran to the salt-barrel and filled my pockets
and hands with coarse salt used to make brine in which to dip the
hides; for I wanted to catch a great many doves--armfuls of doves.
In a few minutes I was out again in the plantation, with doves in
hundreds moving over the ground all about me and taking no notice of
me. It was a joyful and exciting moment when I started operations, but
I soon found that when I tossed a handful of salt at the bird's tail
it never fell on its tail--it fell on the ground two or three or four
inches short of the tail. If, I thought, the bird would only keep
still a moment longer! But then it wouldn't, and I think I spent quite
two hours in these vain attempts to make the salt fall on the right
place. At last I went back to my mentor to confess that I had failed
and to ask for fresh instructions, but all he would say was that I was
on the right track, that the plan I had adopted was the proper one,
and all that was wanted was a little more practice to enable me to
drop the salt on the right spot. Thus encouraged I filled my pockets
again and started afresh, and then finding that by following the
proper plan I made no progress I adopted a new one, which was to take
a handful of salt and hurl it at the bird's tail.
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