Disgraceful about those French people eating larks, said a friend, and he went to the Complete Shakespeare and opened up at Romeo and Juliet. Here, he said, Juliet's chamber, and enter Romeo and Juliet. And then she speaks.
Juliet: Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet near day; It was the nightingale, and not the lark, That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear; Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate tree; Believe me, love, it was the nightingale. Romeo: It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale: look love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east; Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops. I must be gone and live, or stay and die.
So Juliet pleads on and Romeo says, more or less, all right I'll stay and face being put to death. At which, Juliet admits that it is indeed the lark, and bids him hurry away.
This was quoted in a French magazine which then gave the history of lark-eating from Athenian days on, and finally came to the point with the recipe for lark casserole with truffles and foie gras.
All of which reminds us that the game season is on us. Wild duck are in the shops and many other species have been legitimate prey since September 1st, down to golden plover and snipe. Woodcock, in theory, may be shot from November 1st, but they usually come, in some number, well after that date. Depending on the degree of cold in their habitat. That curlew may be shot from November 1st to 30th is always a puzzler. But it may not be traded. Pheasant also begins Nov 1st.
The friend who condemned the shooting of larks at least confirmed the extent of Shakespeare's knowledge of wild life. Isn't there a story that, in his youth, he was caught poaching and brought before the Beak? Y