I passed a second inn and, halfway between that and a third inn, I was ferried over a river, just after which an owl appeared and proceeded to fly away from me bit by bit. I took my little gun, however, and at a quarter past 12 – for the night was not in the least dark – risked loosing off a shot. It struck its target, even though the horse was going at full pace, but one side of the bird was shot to pieces so that it could not be stuffed.